Tuesday night in Boston Review

[Quincy Dan]

Here is a review of Tuesday night's show from the major paper from the south of Boston. He does all right here, until ,magically, Terry Woods becomes the sax-playing banjo player (banjoist,banjoer,banjo-guy?)

CONCERT REVIEW: The Pogues live up to the legend at Orpheum


The Pogues played the Orpheum Theater in Boston last night. They play there again tonight. (Courtesy photo)
By CHAD BERNDTSON
For The Patriot Ledger

The Pogues blew the doors off the Orpheum last night, satiating a wildly enthusiastic crowd for the first of two sold-out Boston shows. The Irish collective’s greatest attribute - aside from its near-perfect marriage of traditional Irish music and instrumentation with a hard-charging punk aesthetic - is that i-ts live experience outdoes even its own stilted legend. The stories of hard drinking, fist-pumping and boundless energy are all true, of course, but the debauchery of the myth overshadows the intense warmth, conviviality and triumph of the reality.

The two gigs here are part of the eight the band has planned in the United States, which are its first in its original lineup here since 1989. Four straight nights at the Nokia Theater in Manhattan’s Times Square will close the tour starting Friday.

Frontman Shane MacGowan, back where he ought to be after getting tossed from the band in 1991, remains every inch the loveable disaster, his vocals a mash of slurs, screams and grunts to punctuate singing that plays fast and loose with pitch and syntax. One of pop music’s great iconoclasts, his ability to imbibe continues to astound, and even before he kicked off last night with ‘‘Streams of Whiskey,’’ it was clear he was several sheets to the wind, though he wouldn’t miss a single cue, lyric, or entrance the whole night.

Indeed, he would continue the whole evening, eventually hauling out a bottle of said liquid onstage with him, spilling it everywhere, occasionally pausing long enough to track down where he put his cup or knock over his microphone stand, or mock conduct the band, or mutter something completely incomprehensible.

The band itself was a spry ensemble, every bit as vigorous, nattily dressed and on target as MacGowan was haggard and disheveled (an undone necktie stayed slung around his shoulders the whole evening). His was a longed-for presence each time he left the stage, though, which he would do periodically to allow others vocal spotlights. Guitarist Philip Chevron (‘‘Thousands Are Sailing’’), drummer Andrew Ranken (‘‘Star of the County Down’’), and tin whistle player Spider Stacy all took turns on lead vocals, and Stacy even dedicated ‘‘Tuesday Morning’’ to our own Dropkick Murphys, one of countless bands the Pogues inspired.

The music, which spanned 25 songs over the course of nearly two hours, was often brilliant and occasionally transcendent. This was a crowd that demanded nothing less. The hardcore Pogues fans were out in force, those who could recite detailed band histories, and who knew all the words to such gems as ‘‘Sally MacLennane,’’ ‘‘Bottle of Smoke’’ and the beloved ‘‘Fairytale of New York,’’ and were not going to let a little thing like Orpheum security keep them from jigging in the aisles.

They bounced all the way from the opening strains of ‘‘Whiskey’’ through such delights as ‘‘Repeal of the Licensing Laws,’’ the set-ending ‘‘Sick Bed of Cuchlainn’’ and, to close the first encore, traditional showstopper ‘‘The Irish Rover.’’ The Pogues didn’t scrimp on ballads, either: ‘‘Pair of Brown Eyes,’’ ‘‘Dirty Old Town’’ and ‘‘Rainy Night in Soho’’ were easy highs.

Dominating were the throttling drum-bass work of Ranken and bassist Darryl Hunt, and the ferocious stylings of both multi-instrumentalist Jem Finer and accordion player James Fearnley, who also handles guitar parts and the occasional piano. And if you don’t think an accordion can be ferocious, you’ve never seen Fearnley in action.

The night’s most poignant moment was saved for the second encore, when the band finally got ’round to the bittersweet ‘‘Fairytale’’ and brought out Jem Finer’s daughter, Ella Finer, in a brightly colored dress. Finer sang the part of the duet that belonged to the late Kirsty MacColl, and then proceeded to waltz with MacGowan. Ace banjoist Terry Woods’ switch to saxophone at the end of the song signaled that ‘‘Fiesta’’ would close things up.

Opening duties fell to Dorchester punks the Street Dogs, whose stock continues to rise since their 2003 formation.

The Pogues - The Pogues, with Street Dogs and William Elliott Whitmore, last night at the Orpheum, Boston. A second, sold-out show is tonight.

[Mike from Boston]

Thanks for posting.

[Mike from Boston]

Thanks for posting QD!

[Heather]

I think he gets the message.

[Irish Rover]

Cheers Dan

[welsh rover]

Good one

[Eric V]

The stories of hard drinking, fist-pumping and boundless energy are all true, of course, but the debauchery of the myth overshadows the intense warmth, conviviality and triumph of the reality.

I think this is easily my favorite review I can remember ever reading. I especially like what I quoted, and "the intense warmth, conviviality and triumph of the reality" is the best part. Here's to the warmth!

[CraigBatty]

Here's to the warmth, indeed m'chara. And here's a health to the company!

[CraigBatty]

The stories of hard drinking, fist-pumping and boundless energy are all true, of course, but the debauchery of the myth overshadows the intense warmth, conviviality and triumph of the reality.

I think this is easily my favorite review I can remember ever reading. I especially like what I quoted, and "the intense warmth, conviviality and triumph of the reality" is the best part. Here's to the warmth!

Hey dude yer at 999 posts. Who's an upside down devil, then?