T in the Park: The Pogues review
WALKING on stage with his fag defiantly in hand, flames on shirt (not from his cigarette, although the state Shane McGowan was in last night it felt like merely a matter of time), the Pogues frontman made his entrance and in one, short, puff cost T in the Park a fine or flouting the smoking ban on Scotland by lighting up in an enclosed space.
After a brief Irish jig from the rest of the band, McGowan mumbles and fumbles his way in to 'Streams of Whisky', a subject he clearly knows a thing or two about. None of the security guards braved a confrontation with him to remind him that the ADVERTISEMENT smoking ban in Scotland means he could be fined. It's doubtful he would have cared, anyway, or would have been able to register the objection.
Technically, however, he still put on a good show, with fans, some of whom looked far too young to remember The Pogues from their heyday, heartily singing along. What MacGowan did say, he mumbled incomprehensibly into the microphone, but the crowd didn't seem to care; they were lapping up his presence.
The disgruntled tone of his singing voice still managed to filter through, and he filled in the gaps between his vocals by swinging the microphone and haphazardly dancing to a groove only he knew the rythm to, grabbing any opportunity to mock-conduct the rest of his band, who were, needless to say, more together than their frontman.
'There's only one Shane MacGowan!' was the chant of choice. Quite.
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