As it's ok with Sean, here it is:
Rock'n'Reel, March/April 2007
The Pogues, Manchester Evening News Arena, Manchester
by Simon Kay
There are things that are undeniably Christmassy. For some people it's a TV schedule full of slightly dated feel-good films. For others, it's the presence on their plate of a Brussels sprout. For me it's the sound of The Pogues. But before you start humming and swaying, it's not just because of that song, great though it is. Perhaps it's because he was born on Christmas Day, but festive imagery constantly reoccurs in the lyrics of Shane MacGowan, almost as if he is trying to exorcise the ghosts (another recurring theme) of his various Christmases past.
With these thoughts in mind, we arrived at the Arena expecting something a little special. We were not the only ones. While we queued to show our tickets, fans sporting the iconic ill-fitting suits and fedoras, which are so much a part of the whole Pogues 'image', surrounded us. Many of them were already drunk beyond comprehension, but that didn't matter. This was the place to be and they knew it. It almost seemed wrong to be sober in such company.
After a solid set from The Saw Doctors who, as always, were also well represented by their own loyal fans, the main act began. It would be charming to think that the vaguely ordered chaos was all carefully choreographed with minutely precise timing, but let's face it, it wasn't. Shane was gently guided on to the stage and positioned in front of the microphone where he swayed slightly and blinked at the expectant crowd. There was no doubt that he was drunk. But the quality of the evening's show depended on just how drunk he was and we knew it.
After what seemed like an eternity, he leant forward and slurred into the microphone, "This one's called 'Streams of Whiskey'." Within seconds the pint pots were flying and, for the next two hours, we were treated to The Pogues at their very best. There was no new material, just a relentless barrage of classic tracks from The Pogues' back catalogue, ranging from well-known hits like 'A Pair Of Brown Eyes' and 'The Irish Rover', to lesser-known songs such as 'Tuesday Morning', 'Kitty' and the anti-Cromwellian diatribe, 'Young Ned Of The Hill'.
The audience was euphoric throughout, although the greatest reaction of the evening was when the band launched into the Ewan MacColl anthem 'Dirty Old Town'. Despite its none too flattering portrayal of Salford, only a few hundred yards from where we were, on the far bank of the River Irwell, the crowd went positively wild.
There's always something of the predictable about encores -- everyone knows that The Pogues would never end a gig just before Christmas without playing that song. And play it they did -- this time with Ella Finer, the daughter of band member Jem Finer, doing a sterling service in the Kirsty MacColl part. And finally, as the arena filled with a blizzard from the snow machines while Shane and Ella waltzed around the stage, I actually realised that it was Christmas.
Copyright Rock'n'Reel

