KILMAINE SAINTS
By Keith Wilson
Photos by Steve Stoltzfus

Kilmaine Saints are placing their stamp on a very long and broad tradition. However, don’t expect a tranquil evening with a gentle fiddle and a weepy rendition of “Danny Boy.” The latter part of this old tradition has been fueled by punk rock and political unrest, and the Kilmaine Saints bring this raucous energy to the stage in spades.

Looking at the solidly booked schedule the band has in store for the first half of 2010, one would assume this was the result of years’ worth of reputation-building; in truth, the Kilmaine Saints came together just last year. The story began with McNaughton, who found inspiration long ago in Celtic punk pioneers like the Pogues and by others like Boston’s Dropkick Murphys and Flogging Molly. More recently, he reconnected with his Celtic roots by joining the Lochiel Emerald Society Pipes and Drums, where five of his eventual bandmates were members as well.

McNaughton had originally envisioned a simple, no-frills Celtic punk band. In the search for a singer, he admits, “We tried out a few different singers; we just got some real bad people trying out.” But one person, Brendan Power, seemed especially promising. There was mutual interest, and the added bonus that he was actually born in Ireland. But Power ultimately balked, primarily because he lived too far away to practice.

After presuming it was a lost cause, McNaughton says, “One night I got this weird drunken e-mail from him, saying, ‘I was just thinking about some of these songs you guys are going to be doing and, man, that’d be great.’ So he came over for the next practice.”

Also joining the band for the first time that practice was fiddler Liz Mallin. McNaughton had been looking for a fiddler and was beginning to despair of the process when he heard from Mallin, who seemed very eager to be involved in the project. However, after Googling her resume and seeing that she was classically trained and quite accomplished, McNaughton wanted to make sure she wasn’t going to be disappointed. He responded, saying, “Hey, we’re really not that good. I don’t know if this is going to be the right thing for you.” Fortunately, Mallin felt otherwise, and so at that next practice the Kilmaine Saints as it is now essentially came into being. Of bandmates Bill Brown and Frank Aponte, multi-instrumentalists who juggle everything from bagpipes to bodhran to Irish bouzouki, McNaughton jealously jokes, “They make me sick, because they can play any instrument.”

When the band attempted “The Leaving of Liverpool,” the tangible energy in the room was crackling. McNaughton says, “Everybody knew it. I was just like, ‘Ah, hell yeah!’”

Not long after that initial jam session, the Kilmaine Saints’ schedule began to fill with shows, and it was off to the races. “Things have taken off like crazy since then,” says an obviously excited McNaughton.

While Power was indeed born in County Mayo, Ireland, to an Irish mother and American father (they emigrated during his childhood), the rest of the band are all U.S. natives. However, one of the fascinating things about Celtic music and culture is its broad diaspora. As a result of unfathomable hardship during different historical periods, mass emigrations took place. There are nearly eight times as many Irish Americans as there are people living in Ireland. When punk rock began to be infused into Celtic folk music by bands like the Pogues, the importance of genetic pedigree for participation became even less important. The community tends to welcome all comers who share similar aesthetics or counterculture values. So while the members of Kilmaine Saints represent various heritages, what matters is that they give the songs their due, and that they play their hearts out every night.

Despite the fact that the band plays a number of familiar Irish folk tunes, McNaughton readily admits, “I’ve never liked the traditional music. I’ve always found it kind of boring.” He says that his love for the Pogues lit the spark initially. With great deference and respect given to the traditional Celtic folk music, McNaughton says, “There was enough of that out there. There are some really good traditional bands around here, but there wasn’t anybody doing that kind of in-between sound that was really harder.” That being said, Celtic punk doesn’t feel like too much of a departure from the politically charged, fiercely communal folk music the Kilmaine Saints have re-invented. The spirit of the movement just feels a bit more … tattooed.

That spirit fuels the Kilmaine Saints’ live show. McNaughton says, “You’ve got eight people on the stage and we’re all loving what we’re doing, so we’re just rocking the instruments.” The band currently plays about 75 percent covers, but I don’t think you’ll see any Staind, Trapt or other misspelled nu metal bands in their set list. They are mostly “punked out” traditional Celtic folk songs, songs that McNaughton says “have just been out there forever. Even if you’re not Irish, you just kind of know the stuff.”

Kilmaine Saints’ originals are primarily written by McNaughton, Aponte and Mallin. While the three are all writing with the same broad Celtic aesthetic in mind, McNaughton explains, “You can definitely tell it’s from three different people.” He describes his songs as “harder, faster, more bagpipe driven,” while Mallin’s are naturally “very fiddle-heavy and a little more traditional” and Aponte’s are “more melodic. He’s a big Black 47 fan.” McNaughton emphasizes that the completion of those songs is very much a team effort, and that every member of the band contributes to the process.

The next challenge for the Kilmaine Saints will be to capture this live synergy in the studio as they look toward recording a collection of originals and traditionals in May. “We’re going to try to record with as many people in a room at once, because we tend to feed off each other really well,” McNaughton says. “Hopefully that will bring some of the energy out of it.”