David McRaney  |  Journalist

Football maintains healthy testosterone levels

It is not every day you can travel to downtown Hattiesburg, sit back with a pint of stout and enjoy a night of traditional Irish folk music as performed by a Gaelic-speaking anthropology professor who once spent three years in the jungles of New Guinea eating yams and observing local customs.

But, every once in a while, that night does come around, and this time it was on Thursday, at The Thirsty Hippo.

Over the course of three 50-minute sets, USM's own Jim Flannigan took his Hattiesburg audience through a myriad of songs about love, loss and Viagra as he stood behind his guitar and smiled honestly.

Still, one had no idea what to expect next from Flannigan. Occasionally he would perform a song in Gaelic, the language of the Irish village in which he grew up, and once he performed a musical monologue recounting Shakespeare's "King Lear" a-cappella.

The great thing about going to see Flannigan play is how open and honest he seems before, during and after the performance. He moves around the club talking to the patrons and laughing with them and often invites guests to grab a guitar and prove their merit. Many in the audience are familiar with his music and join in clapping or singing choruses, all of which adds to the traditional Irish atmosphere.

"There's just something about it that calms you," said Hattiesburg resident Burt Edwards. "The music can be very sad, but he's so full of life that you enjoy every second of it."

Flannigan often paused to tell how he came to learn the songs he played, or why he chose something in particular for the evening like a song about Lake Pontchartrain or a boat that was saved after a storm, both of which he dedicated to those who experienced Katrina.

Flannigan said he was the only Gaelic speaking individual in the path of Katrina. As a result, he phones in daily updates to Irish public radio throughout the ordeal.

But, for the most part, the night was nothing but mirth and merriment as people tried to count backwards from 20 in evens while Flannigan sang, or attempted to clap in odd time signatures through a fog of Guinness and Red Stripe.

It was as close to an Irish pub as one can get in the Hub City, and if you ever get a chance to catch the linguistics and anthropology professor sing through his exquisite lilt again, don't miss it.

Originally published in The Student Printz on October 4, 2005