It seems an eternity ago that I was in the basement of Nice N Sleazy’s, losing my religion to a band called The Cloverhearts.
A collection of session musicians gathered by an Australian has-been who claimed to be Celtic Ska–Punk (they were neither). The tepid, insincere, mockery of Celtic Punk left me aching for the real thing, and tonight it has arrived in the O2 Academy in the form of The Dropkick Murphys. We don our flat caps, put on our Bill Burr accents, and head to Southy to get our fix.
The support tonight is Gogol Bordello, who I remember from the song about wearing purple back in the late ’90s (it really has been that long!). They come out of the traps like they’re brand new and need to fight for a crowd though. The energy coming off this band is something to behold. You’re hard pushed to understand the lyrics, but the music is so hooky and anthemic that you need to dance. You don’t have a say in the matter… you’re moving.
The gypsy punk (their words, not mine) band pulls punk, ska, reggae, dub, and the kind of party tunes that the likes of most pop punk bands can only dream of. These guys could easily fill any room with this music, and the thought of them playing a festival is, quite frankly, exciting. I want to see every show they play and I regret driving tonight. I want a fun drink while getting my moves on.
By the end of the set, the crowd is nearly exhausted after emptying their tank on the dancefloor. You’d be forgiven for forgetting this isn’t the headliner.
The Dropkick Murphys come on following a mix of punk and Irish tunes playing on the PA. The crowd aren’t long in being reminded who the headliner is again. Vocalist Ken Casey frequently launching himself onto a plinth at the barrier so he can hang into the crowd and offer them the microphone as they sing along.
Jeff DeRosa deserves special credit for whipping out a new stringed instrument every song and throwing it around as if it were his primary tool. Without doubt, he is the dynamo on the stage for The Dropkick Murphys – and that’s not to take away from the rest of the band. Guitarist James Lynch rocks away from behind his mic stand with the presence of any guitar legend. If I had to make one complaint… I want more bagpipes up front and center. If you’re not in the perfect spot, you don’t get to see them tucked away in a back corner.
The set is in full singalong mode with the likes of ‘Where The Trouble Is At’ and ‘The Boys Are Back’ but I defy anyone who says that ‘Irish Rover’ wasn’t a highlight. We won’t mention the Gerry Cinnamon cover … ‘Shipping Up To Boston’ kicks off the two song encore and to be honest, we’re still buzzing off it. God help our throats in the morning.
The Murphys were relentless tonight and even though there’s some decent legends coming through town, there’s a glorious difference when it comes to these guys. Authentic celtic punk that doesn’t try too hard and instantly sends you to the docks of Boston. A fantastic escape.
Photos by Catching Light Photography
Catching Light Photography
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