UNSIGNED EMERALDS: A review of Quinn's Diaries
by Mike Farragher
From the Irish Voice - March 8, 2000
Hop on board this train without haste. There are not enough superlatives in a thesaurus to describe the greatness of this band, and I will be shocked if I get another disc this year that is as tasty as this one. This is why I got into the music reviewing business: to witness greatness first-hand and in turn expose you to it.

The Baltimore-based band infuses Clash-like punk into their Irish musical stylings with mind-blowing results. They effortlessly switch gears and become beatnik poets on 12-Round Knockout and the title track. They do take a wrong turn during the sensitive ballads. I found them to be a huge yawn. It’s hard to look at the sensitive white underbelly of such a great piss and vinegar bar band like this one. With that in mind, skip tracks 9,11, and 13. If I want faux cowboy-acoustic musings, I’ll chill with the super-fly guys in Bon Jovi.

The language is salty and the songs tell stories that I dare not print in this column. For any parents of underage Bainbridge Avenue gals, you had best lock them up. They find great sport, as they say during their re-worked version of Tell Me Ma, in chasing "peaches without fuzz."

No self-respecting Irish bar worth it’s salt should be without Pissed off Paddy Barman in their jukebox. This is a classic sing-song that sticks in your mind like wet gum in shag carpeting.

*****NO SELF RESPECTING IRISH PERSON SHOULD BE WITHOUT IT!