Jeff Conlon

Vocals, Acoustic and Electric Guitars, Bagpipes

Sometimes opportunity doesn’t knock. It shows up at a gig you’re playing, and convinces you to chat over a beer. In the case of Jeff Conlon joining The Highland Rovers Band™ , opportunity was wearing an HRB manager’s jacket. It was at a gig at The Playwright in Stamford when Conlon met HRB Manager Mike Madden and first considered the possibility of joining the Rovers.

“I didn’t want to get involved with another band, though I knew they get a really good following,” Conlon says today.

Madden’s background with the Marshall Tucker Band was a common thread for Conlon. That night, The Jeff Conlon Band played every MTB song it knew, didn’t take a single break and veered away from the Irish music except for a few Saw Doctors tunes.

That was the first encounter, and it was enough to bring Madden back, along with HRB’s Tommy Portera (whom Conlon considers “the best front man” he’s ever seen). At a little Irish bar in Woodside, Queens, Portera jammed with Conlon, and a germ of an idea became a full-blown flu.

It wasn’t much later that Conlon joined the Rovers on stage at The Skybox in Fairfield, Connecticut for a brief set. The Scotsman (HRB friend and talented musician Patrick Boyer) performed one song, with Conlon accompanying him on bagpipes.

“The crowd went nuts,” Conlon recalls. Still, Conlon was cognizant of the resistance he would meet from some fans of the original HRB.

“I know there were certain people there who didn’t want to see me there,” he said. So Conlon posted a note on the band’s Web site to express his appreciation for the opportunity. “I said, ‘By no means do I think I’m replacing anybody in this band. I’m just going to do my best.’ “

Conlon’s “best” was a long time in the making. A native New Yorker (Forest Hills, Queens), Conlon grew up listening to the music that his parents played on an eight-track tape machine. The artist that made the biggest impression was Harry Chapin, who became Conlon’s inspiration for learning to play the guitar. Reinforcing that was Conlon’s 7th grade teacher, who would bring his guitar to class and play Chapin’s music as well as others. That nailed it for Conlon. “I said, ‘Man, this is what I need to do.’ “

Conlon grew up the middle child of five, in a family that listened to an endless amount of Irish music – everything from the Clancy Brothers and Wolfe Tones to any-and-all of the traditional fare. After his dislike of music lessons, Conlon decided to learn how to play chords on his own. From there, Conlon’s interest turned to songwriting.

It became part of Conlon’s busy childhood, where he enjoyed popularity in school except when it came to his musical tastes.

“I felt like such a Klondike when all my friends were learning Ozzy Osbourne and The Kinks, and I was learning Harry Chapin, Gordon Lightfoot and James Taylor. I thought, ‘I wish I could do that with ‘em, but I can’t play guitar. If I wasn’t enjoying playing it, I was gonna quit again.’ “

Conlon persisted and began playing out. He took a gig at a place called Breezy Point, playing guitar on the beach for mostly friends and family. Next came gigs in Rockaway, Queens at the now-defunct Blarney Castle Green Rose Café. Conlon, only a senior in high school at the time, played there every other Friday, and was loving life.

“I’d look like a big rock star. My friends and family would pack the place. I made $80 a night and thought I was the richest kid in town. I was too young to be drinking, but I was playing in the place.”

Then, life took another happy turn. Conlon met his wife, Carolyn, and his priorities and life changed. He became a police officer and put down the guitar for about five years. Family life ruled…....…until Conlon’s older brother, Steve, called with a tempting offer. “He said he had this gig for St. Patty’s weekend. I laughed and said, ‘You’re out of your mind.’ ”

They talked it out and decided to go for it. They debuted as The Conlon Brothers, brought in a bass player and drummer and went on to have a successful run on the Irish bar scene – playing Queens, Manhattan and Connecticut venues.

That lasted about four years. After that, Conlon’s new band, “Dead Mile Dance,” morphed into more Southern rock than Irish, and he found a renewed love in the music he had missed out on earlier.

But after about a year, the new band’s popularity led to increased responsibilities. Conlon was booking shows, managing the band and performing. The demands were many and Conlon had to reel back.

“I said ‘I need to pursue my original stuff.’ I was working in the studio on an album and decided to leave the band and go solo.”

Conlon’s recruitment into The Highland Rovers Band™ has been challenging, but worth every minute. Truth be told, Conlon felt like “the Tasmanian devil trying to be a church mouse.” His typical performance style was stunted by his concerns about not turning off loyal fans.

“I heard some who embraced it; and some who were not-so-warm. You know, there are diehard Billy Donaldson fans.”

To that, Conlon says: “Hey, so am I. He’s a great songwriter. He’s awesome at what he does. I’m just working for a living with this band, having a good time. I’m going to identify myself.”