Though I sought out the college radio and the music it was dispensing because I longed for material that was edgier, bracingly different, wholly challenging, I’ll admit that I had an enduring weakness for the bands that surely belonged there but plied their trade with more of a reliance on dependable forms. It was the fall of 1988 when I arrived and there were plenty of artists that were leaning on the tried-and-true in their songwriting and playing, probably of a few key predecessors that had cracked the marketplace with some yearning Americana. Placed against the cheap, slick hair metal that was then dominating MTV (and at time when the erstwhile music channel actually shaped the Top 40 charts with their selections), this stuff automatically sounded deep and authentic.

Hothouse Flowers was an Irish band that sounded as if they’d learned their traditional homeland folk from a tipsy bluesman at a Middle American roadhouse. Every song on their debut release People sounded as if the whole band had cracked their hearts clean open and poured the contents in. They may not have veered from the stalwart tones of Ireland more than the immediate forebears The Pogues or The Waterboys, but they were Irish enough to have a band member named Peter O’Toole (not that one, of course, but it still bolsters the bona fides). Mostly, they seemed to strive for the universality of shamelessly grand rock ‘n’ roll reeled off with the full expectation that anyone within earshot would be helpless to sing along. They sounded like they’d be a helluva live band.

I almost saw them once, giving me a chance to potentially prove that theory. They played a Friday night show at Headliners in Madison and I went down there from central Wisconsin with the Program Director from the radio station. Being a tad too youthful for the 21-and-up show, I was stopped at the door. My traveling companion went to the show while I killed time with a bad sequel at the nearby University Square 4 Theatre. When we met up later, he was drenched in sweat, cheerily and breathlessly telling me, “You missed a great show.” I know he was only being an honest reporter, but he didn’t need to rub it in.

Hothouse Flowers, “Feet on the Ground”

(Disclaimer: It appears to me that the debut album from Hothouse Flowers is no longer in print as a physical item. It can be purchased digitally, but what fun is that? Besides, acquiring it through that method may provide some compensation to a major online retailer and the besuited individuals at the record company, but it seems likely that artist will see none of those pennies, and it’s damn certain that the proprietor of your favorite local, independently-owned record store will not benefit. So why not visit the establishment down the road that needs your support and work with them to acquire a brand-spankin’ new copy of the greatest hits release from Hothouse Flowers, which appears to have a very good line-up. Everyone who deserves to be happy will be happy. This song isn’t on that compilation, so it’s posted here under the belief that it can’t be added to a collection by buying a new CD. If someone wants me to take it down and asks me to do so, I will gladly and promptly comply.)