Album Review: Say Hello To The Provos – The Music Of Freedom Struggle by The Kelly Brothers
Released in 1975 on INAC Records, Say Hello To The Provos is a raw and unapologetic dive into the folk traditions of protest music. This isn’t your typical feel-good record; it’s steeped in political grit, with lyrics that pull no punches about freedom struggles and resistance. Hailing from the US but channeling an unmistakably Irish spirit, The Kelly Brothers crafted something both timeless and haunting—a soundtrack for revolutionaries.
The album straddles genres like Folk, World, Country, and even dips its toes into what some might call "Non-Music," given how stripped-down and authentic it feels. Credit goes to John Kelly's raspy lead vocals and guitar work, Tommy Kelly’s banjo plucking soul straight out of history, and Brian Charette holding down the bass lines. Together, they create a sound that’s as much storytelling as it is music.
Two tracks stand out immediately—“Say Hello To The Provos” and “Dirty Old Town.” Let’s start with the title track. It’s impossible not to remember this one because it smacks you right in the face with its boldness. The song doesn’t shy away from controversy, naming names and calling out forces of oppression. You can almost picture dimly lit pubs filled with fervent whispers turning into shouts when this tune comes on. Its driving rhythm and defiant tone make it unforgettable.
Then there’s “Dirty Old Town,” a cover that somehow feels reborn here. While the original by Ewan MacColl paints a grim urban landscape, The Kelly Brothers infuse it with a sense of resilience. John Kelly’s voice cracks just enough to remind you he’s lived through hard times too. The sparse instrumentation lets every word hit home, making it less about nostalgia and more about survival against all odds.
Other tracks like “Boolavogue” and “Patriot Game” keep the energy high while staying rooted in tradition. But honestly, it’s the way these songs blend anger, hope, and sorrow that makes the album stick with you long after the needle lifts off the vinyl.
If I’m being real, listening to this record feels like sitting around a campfire where everyone has scars to show and stories to tell. There’s nothing polished or overly produced—it’s just honest-to-God music made by people who cared deeply about their message. That said, don’t expect easy answers or cheerful melodies. This is the kind of album that leaves you thinking, maybe even arguing, well after it ends.
Here’s the kicker: In today’s world of auto-tuned pop stars and playlist algorithms, albums like Say Hello To The Provos feel like relics. But maybe we need relics now more than ever. Because beneath the layers of politics and rebellion lies a simple truth—music can still move mountains if you let it. Or at least spark a damn good conversation.
