The Westies

The Westies Rock City Winery Chicago

May 22 – great seats available now!!!
http://www.citywinery.com/chicago/tickets/the-westies-5-22.html
May 30 - http://www.citywinery.com/chicago/tickets/the-westies-5-30.html

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Westies in Nashville, Memphis and Jackson

Westies Are Coming! Look forward to seeing you soon!

William Collier’s March 5th

Hi-Tone March 6th

Duling Hall March 7th with drivin’ n’ cryin’

 

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Click Here to listen to the playlist and download The Westies free EP…

http://twangville.com/17297/mayers-playlist-for-fall-2013-part-3/

Reprinted from OnTourMag.com

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The Westies: life of a wayfaring tough

Posted: January 13th, 2014 ˑ

The Westies were Hell’s Kitchen’s most notorious Irish-American gang. Between the late 60s and mid-80s, they were responsible for more than 100 deaths and a myriad of other crimes. Quite the accomplishment when their numbers never boasted more than 20. An accumulation of political power and criminal master-mindedness lead the Irish gang to undeniable notoriety as the most feared men of the Irish mob. Less organized, highly reckless, and infinitely more hazardous to New York’s west side, the romanticized tragedy of this Irish lore has not been lost. In fact, it has been resurrected. A new group of hardened individuals have adopted the moniker, their intentions entirely more pure. They still manage to sink into the ever-dark, tragic, and romantic notions that result in poetic allure. Through music this time, not with the hot end of a sly piece of metal.

Folk-Americana powerhouse, The Westies, are resurrecting the thrill and terror of those darkened Hell’s Kitchen alleyways with biting lyrics that leave a shimmer of sweat above your brow. Described as a, “collective of musicians that rotate in and out depending on availability,” the show is undeniably visual and hard-hitting. Michael McDermott heading the vagabonds, with wife Heather Horton on co-vocals and fiddle. The two are the tellers of folklore gone awry. Weaving reality into fable, they sing sweet lullabies of haunting love and sorrow. John Pirrucello (guitar, pedal, mandolin), Chris Merrill (bass), Dan Ingenthron (keys), and Robert Dicke (drums) round out the Westies. All around, a kitchen-sink of undeniably polished musicians hailing from Nashville and beyond. The Westies synchronize smoky vocals with flowing instrumentals that lead you on an ever-enchanting stroll through grittier times.

McDermott (traveling under an Irish tough alias-Johnny Darkstar-which is a greatly underrated decision that never came to full fruition) writes deeply and darkly. He’s never known anything else but the life of rock, “all I ever wanted to do was write songs and tell stories, like my grandparents and parents did from a long Irish lineage. With that lineage came a proclivity for drink, for mayhem, and a wee bit of crime. It’s a fire that took some time to temper. ” Drawing from his own personal inspiration and having a handful of extremely talented individuals hailing from impressive corners of music, the picture they paint is calmingly frightening. These are adrenaline pumping nighttime stories, singing you to the ghostly beyond. But, more importantly, the outfit has the ability to entertain in an organically beautiful fashion. The Westies tell stories of a late grandfather who was shot, not killed, by the infamous Jesse James. An heirloom, passed down to each son, inspires one of the most hauntingly beautiful songs, Death. Somber melodies, praising good friends gone. Raconteur family man McDermott banters with his wife, Heather Horton, and actively jives the audience with spitfire sarcasm and wit. This Irish family of drinkers, gypsies, malefactors, and lyricists are bound together for eternity. Sure to set their lore immortal as the original heathens of Hell’s Kitchen did so many years ago.

-Cole Scott, junior editor, On Tour Magazine

The ,“Ameri-gangsta-cana,” group will be touring the East coast in support of their forthcoming album. You can enjoy their EP teaser, West Side Stories, on iTunes in the meantime.

- See more at: http://ontourmag.com/archives/the-westies-wayfaring-refrain/#sthash.bfXkdrYA.dpuf

Westies – Heading East…

See you next week on the East Coast!

February 4th in Pittsburgh – Club Cafe

February 5th in Asbury Park, NJ- The Saint

February 6th in NYC at Rockwood Music Hall

February 7th in Philly at The Tin Angel

Feb 8th – Cambridge – We regret that we had to cancel our show in Cambridge with sincere apologies to Atwoods.

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WXRT Presents The Westies and Bodeans on New Year’s Eve

 

 

Click Here for New Year’s Eve Tickets

Click Here for Schuba’s Tickets

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Noisetrade Sampler – Free 5 song download

Click Here to Download.

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First EP – Oct 8th

On iTunes

On CD Baby

 

iTunes Announcement - Westies

Bellevue, Birds and A Lot Of Blood

The men’s room was downstairs. It wasn’t so much that i had to go; it was a good excuse to extricate myself from this scene that was becoming weirder by the minute. I got into the men’s room and approached the urinal. Upon undoing my belt i heard the door open and i looked over my shoulder. I was a little coked up but more than that i was feeling nervous. It was one of Seb’s goons.

“Hey” I said

Before i could unzip i turned back around, so as to face him.

” So listen Mike, tell your friend to watch his fucking mouth.” Goon said

” He’s not my friend, i just met the guy tonight, in fact we’ll just blow out of here and call it a night.” I replied with a hint of pleading

” You don’t have to do that, just tell him to watch it is all ” Goon moved past me to the urinal and began to piss. I remember thinking…

i’m outta my league here, there’s no way this is happening to me. These guys are for real.

The door opened again, and because of the smallness of the men’s room it now opened into me, so i had to jockey out of the way.

It was Seb. Now it was a mini pow wow in the men’s room with two mobsters, cocaine, cops upstairs and a guy i’m with acting like a douche bag. This ain’t good….this ain’t good at all.

The Goon explained to Seb what he had told me. Seb didn’t seem particularly concerned or interested. He took a piss. Goon offered me some more coke, which i did. I asked Seb if he wanted to and he said he couldn’t because he had to go see his P.O. (Parole Officer) in the morning and there was always a threat of random drug testing. The vibe in the bathroom went from tense to friendly pretty quick.  I’ve always been fairly adept in talking my way out of a dangerous situation in the past. This however, was new terrain for me…to use a sports analogy; I was in the Majors now.

We walked upstairs and much to my chagrin I saw Mick at the piano again with the girls all around him. Singing and playing the hits of the day.

” Oh shit ” i muttered under my breath.

I was just warned to have Mick watch himself and sure as shit he’s at it again. I didn’t even have to look at Goon and Seb to know the mood was changing right back to tense. We sit down at the table; the bill had come and Seb hands it to me and said,

” Here, you and your friend can take care of this ”

I looked down at the bill and it was just north of a hundred dollars. Knowing i didn’t have that kind money cuz we had spent most of what we had buying cocaine from the older mob guy earlier, i began to panic. Mick and the girls were singing ” She Talks To Angels” at this point and i began to sweat. I went to the waitress and asked if they had an ATM. They didn’t, but she said the bodega next store had one. I went and withdrew 120 dollars, which i believe was my limit. That would just about cover it, with tip.

Seb was ready to go home. The cops had now left; party seemed to be winding down. I just wanted to get the fuck out of there, get on a bus and head to the airport. We were all standing on the sidewalk and Mick said,

“Lets all head to my place ”

Seb said, “Nah i gotta be somewhere early, i’m calling it a night.”

The girls were clearly still ready to party. Incredulously the guys left the girls with us and hopped in a cab. The night now suddenly seemed like perhaps, it could turn itself around.

We got back to Mick’s apartment in the Village and it was a loft with a long hallway and basically one room. We proceeded to put some music on, pour some drinks and there on the table, was a pretty sizable pile of cocaine. It must have been an hour and it must be getting near 4:30 am when Mick pulled me aside.

” That one girl is a drag, she’s lame, lets get her out of here”

Of the three girls, one girl, although she was as coked up as the rest of us, wasn’t having fun. She was becoming antisocial, mean, bitter, unstable. Her name was Jen. The other two strippers Sammi and Lisa were very engaging, fun and ready to party.

The plan was, that Mick was gonna tell the Sammi and Lisa that we’re gonna get rid of Jen and just sit tight. Mick and I ask for a word with Jen and we walk her slowly down the hallway telling her the party is over.

” What are you guys gonna do? Your still gonna hang? Why can’t i hang” in a plaintiff tone.

” Nah, it ain’t like that honey, i gotta wrap it up soon, i gotta take a bus to Newark and fly home for a show, this is the end of the line for me too” I assured her

” I don’t’ wanna leave, please?? please!! don’t make me leave please??” she was getting frantic.

” honey, don’t be silly….its no big deal, i’ll even walk you downstairs”

As we approached the front door, i saw that right next to the front door, on the left( as we approached) was his bathroom. As i turned the handle of the front door and began to open it and she jumped into the bathroom and locked the door. Mick and I looked at each other exasperated. I began knocking on the bathroom door and trying to coax her out. I could hear her whimpering. Mick and I looked at each other again with a, “what the fuck?” type look.

Mick gives up and leaves me at the bathroom door and walks down the long hallway where i could hear the girls laughing and music playing faintly in the distance. It must have been another 5 minutes of me trying to get Jen out of the bathroom and then i decided to join the party. I must have taken 3-4 steps down the hallway when i heard the bathroom door open. Fortunately for me, i turned around in time to see Jen lunging at me with scissors clutched in her hand held high above her head. I didn’t even have a second to even think about it but was able to grab her  right hand, with my left hand, as it came down at me. I grabbed her other arm and slammed her into one of his exposed brick walls….I pounded her right hand against the wall until she dropped the scissors. I must have made some kind of guttural, animalistic noise because Mick ran to my aid. I got her into a full nelson, wrestling hold that kept her arms away from me and i began to drag her down the hallway back to the front door. As i did that….Lisa came over and with the outside of her clenched fist……started pounding on Jen’s face. Her nose exploded with blood.

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?” i screamed, and tried to kick her away cuz i was still dragging Jen down the hallway toward the front door. Neighbors were pounding on the walls at this point. I remember dawn breaking and natural light coming through his windows like some cruel revealing laughter. Oh the humanity. The horror of it all.

She continued pounding on Jen until i got her to the door. Mick opened the door and i threw Jen out. I stepped back inside to close the door and Jen’s hand came in the crack of the door to prevent me from closing it. As if in some horror movie the bloody hand reaching from outside, it was total madness.

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TRYING TO DO!!!! GET YOUR HAND OUT!” I screamed.

She wouldn’t.

I put pressure on the door and then yelled, “GET YOUR FUCKING HAND OUT!!!”

she didn’t. The bloody hand contented to clutch at nothing as if it was clutching on to life itself.

This goes on for what seems an eternity. In actuality a couple minutes. The next thing i heard was a pounding from just the other side of the door.

“NYPD, LET THE GIRLS HAND OUT, OPEN THE DOOR!”

OH SHIT. I thought…..we’re fucked. I opened the door enough for the girl to get her hand out and then i shut the door and bolted it, before the cops could push it in.

BAM, BAM, BAM. “NYPD OPEN THE DOOR!”

i look down the hallway only to see Mick, Lisa and Sammy, around a glass table, cutting up a lines of coke….i heard one go so far as to say,as they were sizing up the lines.

” I don’t want that big of one.”….i see one lean over to snort a line, as i run down the hallway in utter disbelief at this new development. I’m on my own. If I didn’t know it before, i knew it now.

” WHAT THE FUCK YOU MORONS….THE COPS ARE HERE…..!”

Mick shovels the coke that was on the table into its baggie as i walk down the hallway still hearing the cops pound on the door. He follows me and hands me the baggie of blow.

At this point…i didn’t even care….i knew i had to open the door.

I put the blow in my pocket and i undid the bolt and opened the door…Jen is now sitting against the wall in the hallway. The cops gave her something to put over her face as she applied some pressure to some part of her face that was busted.

” What’s going on here?”" the cop said as he moved into the apartment.

Right then as if on cue, Lisa breaks into emotional hysterics.

Sobbing she said,  ”Oh my God she went crazy, she tried to stab him with scissors and was completely out of her mind. I don’t know if she’s on something or what but she went nuts!”

I’m looking down at the ground, imagining what prison is gonna be like, but tried to psych myself into pulling this off with conviction. I look up to see the cop looking past Lisa, Mick, Sammi and myself, to see down into the room. He looks but he doesn’t make a move. I knew if he did we were all fucked. Or at least i was. There would most certainly be traces of coke all over the table and that would give him probably cause to search us and he would find the stuff on me. Lisa is still blubbering away with her story and pulling off what i remember to be an Academy Award winning performance.

After about 10 minutes of talking, the cop said ” Well, we’re gonna take her to Bellevue and get her fixed up, sounds like some kind of coke psychosis she’s in. ”  Implying he knows we are on coke but he’s not gonna do anything about it. He steps back into the hallway and his partner and girl descend down the stairs.

We close the door, exchange a ” that was a close one ” smile and then Mick said. ” Michael, gimme the shit.”

I do, and we all walk down the now bloodstained hallway,bathed in a beautiful morning light to have a line of blow. After the line, I decide i’m gonna leave. They halfheartedly tried to get me to stay.I go to Port Authority and get my ass home. My flight wasn’t until 1:30. I was gonna be 3 hours early but i didn’t care.

Somewhere over Pennsylvania i started to weep. I had to. It just came out of me. I didn’t know what had happened. How it happened. Most certainly why it happened. What was happening to my life? What was happening to me?

Landing at O’Hare I took the train back to the city and got to my apartment. Tj my roommate knew something was up by the look on my face. When he asked what was wrong i said ” you wouldn’t believe it if i told you.”

It was nearly 4pm. I hadn’t slept. The coke had worn off but the anxiety was just beginning. I had coke at home but i didn’t wanna do it. Didn’t wanna drink. I layed down in bed but couldn’t sleep. I decided I may as well get to the Abbey Pub where i was playing that night. I pulled up and my good friend Joe Lazar and his gal Marlo saw me struggling to get my amp out of the car and they helped me. I remember that act of friendship quite well, because i was so in need of support at that moment. The band got on stage and i think i did three songs. Bourbon Blue was one, Upscale Dive was another and then did Junkie Girl. I told the story you’ve just read and the crowd went from chatty to silent. I remember saying that we were designing McDermott action figures based on my prowess of disarming a crazy coked up stripper after she tried to stab me with scissors. People kind of laughed. I’m not sure they thought was i was saying was actually true. We did Junkie Girl third i think and after that song, i couldn’t go on. I apologized to the crowd and said ” If anybody wants your money back, please have it,,,,, I uh….just can’t go on like this,,,,i just can’t, i’m sorry”

i walked off stage.

I knew i couldn’t go on like this….no way.

Word of the nights escapades traveled back to Chicago and to my family. The next day they had an Intervention. That was fun.

It was horrible, but that’s another story for another time.

 

The bright side of this story is,,,,well,,,,nobody asked for their money back. Not bad right?

The Westies: Performing at FitzGerald’s American Music Festival – July 3rd

The Westies will be performing on Weds, July 3rd @ 7:30 PM. Get you tickets now!

 

Starting in 1981, FitzGerald’s American Music Festival has grown from a three-band barbeque night to one of the most critically acclaimed summer festivals in the Midwest.  The festival’s main focus is roots/Americana music — everything from straight-ahead rock to soul, rockabilly, country, blues, jazz and bluegrass.  We welcome bands from all over the country and right here at home.

Unlike many of the popular music festivals in the city, the American Music Festival is held on the grounds of the club, with two of the three stages in our club and SideBar and one outdoor stage on tented parking lot.  This setup makes for a more intimate, comfortable experience, with access to a full bar, air conditioning and real bathrooms!  Our festival tents offer seating and waitress service, and the FitzGerald family is always on hand to help with any special needs which might arise.