Molly Malone's

What would you expect from an Irish pub in Los Angeles? Everything in green, shamrocks on the walls, Guinness on tap? Well, maybe that last one is true, I wouldn’t know, but other than that, this is basically just another place to get a drink.

At least in the front room. A bar is a bar, but that’s not why most people come here.

To get there, starting at Wilshire and Fairfax, you go one block north on Fairfax and you can see the huge signs above the place on the west side of the street, just off the corner past Sixth Street. Really, I’m tellin’ ya, you can’t miss it. Once inside, however, the flashy lights are gone, and it’s as dark as most bars--not that I’ve been to many, you understand, but I’ve seen a lot on TV. But then, I’m reviewing this place as a music venue rather than a bar or eatery, so not that important.

I love the Independence poster, and remember seeing a Plunkett on the list of signees and immediately e-mailing Stacey Plunkett, one of my favorite musicians, to see if she was indeed Irish. She said she was, though by way of Atlanta. Not gonna even try to figure out that accent, especially considering she went to school in Bawston. There’s also a huge poster of James Joyce on the wall, but I’d be very surprised if anyone in the bar knew who he was, considering how glued they are to the overhead screens showing sports. There’s also plenty of photos and photo-sized prints, but it’s so dark there’s no way of knowing what they say.

As for the food, it’s a lot more typical bar food then the Hotel Cafe’s chicken quesadillas or Karma’s vegetarian bean-sprout stuff. Although the fries cost $5--five times more than McD’s--and are 5 times worse. That’s just the taste; I still suspect they were the culprits in the weeklong stomachache I had after that show.

So on to the music room! Yes, there are two parts to the place, the bar and the music room, though sometimes there’ll be acts on the tiny corner stage near the bar.

Take a left at the restrooms and go through that ominous-looking heavy door to the other room, a long rectangle with a small bar in the back that’s never in use, except for the bands to place and sell their swag. The walls are brick and like to shake when there’s too much bass in the mix, always making me wonder if the huge ads/mirrors/posters are gonna come tumbling down. There are a few tables and chairs, but usually people stand at the front of the stage so you can’t see anything if you’re sitting. The stage is usually too dark {especially for my camera}.

But the sound guy is one of the best in town, as is the music selection. A lot of the best who play at Hotel Café also play here, and it’s a cheerier ambiance. Plus there’s about one night a week when you actually get Irish music; I finally found out what Uillean pipes are. And even when a beautiful curly redhead, totally Irish-looking, turns out to be from Noo Yawk, it’s only the music that matters. . .