-Reviews: The Pogues at 02 Brixton Academy

[Zuzana]

Gigview: The Pogues at 02 Brixton Academy, London reviewed

Tim Glanfield
December 21, 2010
Beehive City

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Rating: * * * * *

They say if you remember a Pogues gig … you weren’t there – and so the age old problem of reviewing their concerts rears its ugly head once again.

Aching all over, stinking and with a rather fuzzy head, I know that something special happened last night on the snowy streets of South London, but putting my finger on it will be a challenge.

By the looks of the raucous swaying crowd queuing to enter the Academy, I don’t think I was the only one who thought it was my right – neigh my duty – to drink my body weight in Guinness at the local Irish pub before entering the hallowed venue.

And so it began, the umpteen members of the band took to the stage before Shane MacGowan – all dressed in black, with a cowboy hat on – stumbled amongst them.

A man of few words (that anyone can understand) MacGowan and company let the music do the talking as they set about knocking out The Best of The Pogues for just under an hour and a half.

Streams of Whiskey rather appropriately began an evening of high spirits. The crowd didn’t need asking twice, within seconds plastic pint glasses (many still full of beer) began to rain down from the heavens as the assembled throng jumped, jostled and jigged their way towards Christmas.

Sally MacLennane, A Pair of Brown Eyes and The Irish Rover had a similar affect on the five thousand or so punters who had by now forgotten it was minus five outside and begun to strip their layers off and toss them across the auditorium in the ultimate act of winter defiance.

Grab a woman, grab a man, grab anyone … note perfect the band played on as impromptu love-ins began to take hold around Brixton Academy. The booze was starting to take its toll – some hugged the person next to them because they were so moved by the occasion, others because it was nearly Christmas … but most, I suspect were simply looking for someone to stop them from falling down after a hundred units of alcohol.

There are few bands – for all their rock and roll credentials – that can inspire such hedonism. Tonight Matthew, I’m Shane MacGowan … and not just the hardcore in the front five rows, every man, woman and (child?) was living the rock and roll dream … encore, we crowed from half an hour in … the band responded in style, with two.

The calm before the storm manifested itself in the form of archetypical Christmas classic A Fairytale of New York, which the masses bellowed with such ferocious passion, there was little need for MacGowan to be on stage at all.

The calm you say – surely that was the end? What was the storm?

Dad-ada-da,dada … da-da-dada … da-da-dada … da-da-da …

Those still with any possessions left to lose after 90 minutes of vigorous jigging, it was time to say goodbye … keys, wallets, mobile phones and loose change began skidding across the floor as the crowd drunkenly partied like it was 1989.

Yes, it was Fiesta, and yes it was mayhem. Minutes seemed like hours as I – along with five thousand drunken Irish friends (for we were all Irish, and all friends for that moment) – summoned energy reserves that we really shouldn’t have had left to make sure this thing ended with a bang.

Exhausted, dazed and slightly battered, I stood in a sea of empty booze resceptacles as the house lights went up.

What had just happened? I’m not sure anyone knew … but whatever it was, it was a good thing.

Walking out onto the cold streets of Brixton, the snow fluttered down as the crowds continued partying on the pavement and in the road.

Several rather underdressed revellers had obviously failed in their attempts to reclaim the outdoor-wear they’d so urgently removed earlier in the evening … but even the man in a vest with no shoes didn’t look unhappy, for he - like all of us - had for another year been filled with a warming dose of Pogues-love …

… it’s the only Christmas present anyone needs.


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(c) Honeycomb Publishing & Media Ltd 2010

[Christine]

… it’s the only Christmas present anyone needs.

Could not agree more!

[old barney greyheron]

That's fookin' brilliant!

[Zuzana]

The Pogues, O2 Academy Brixton, review

Andrew Perry
22 Dec 2010
The Telegraph

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The electricity in the room as the London Irishmen rolled out their Eighties primetime hits completely overwhelmed.
Rating: * * * *

This latest jaunt from London Irishmen the Pogues was billed as their “Farewell Christmas Tour”, positing an end to a seasonal institution that began as recently as 2004. Back then, the newly reunited band’s leader, Shane MacGowan, was in such a state of booze- and drug-induced disrepair, it seemed a miracle that he was even contemplating performing live.

No official reason has been given for the cessation of such annual antics this year. They haven’t cut a record since 1996 – that one, which was written and recorded without MacGowan, was such a turkey that they’ve often vowed never to make another. There were a few messages between songs, all of them indecipherable, but the gist seemed to be: “It’s the last time till the next time.”

The audience, nevertheless, approached the event as if it was their last night on earth, rather than just their last ever Pogues Christmas gig (possibly). The electricity in the room, as the band rolled out the hits from their Eighties primetime, was at times completely overwhelming.

In the past, there has been a grizzly voyeurism about coming before the physical reality of MacGowan. On this occasion, two pints of colourless fluid, with ice and lemon, stood awaiting him on a table stage front, and each time he lurched off to the wings, he returned bearing a tumbler full of something whiskey-esque and a lit cigarette. Yet, now almost 53, he looked slimmer, and less deathly white than he has for some years. As he snarled and ranted, it was hard to confirm reports that he’d had a full repair job on his withered, stumpy teeth – certainly, there was no ring-of-confidence grin for his admirers.

Although their set was pretty much as it has always been, the Pogues frequently took your breath away. Songs like Sally McLennane and the instrumental Repeal of the Licensing Laws were a frantically punky take on the Irish jig, still original and undeniable, while The Band Played Waltzing Matilda was genuinely epic, inducing scenes akin to the Anfield Kop singing You’ll Never Walk Alone.


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© Copyright of Telegraph Media Group Limited 2010

[Zuzana]

The Pogues, Brixton Academy, London

Andy Gill
23 December 2010
The Independent

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* * * (out of five)

Off to the right of the stage, marked out in fluorescent tape, is a broad pathway leading into the wings of the Brixton Academy, with a couple of large taped arrows pointing stagewards. It's probably there to guide the roadies when they're humping gear in, but it's put to good use tonight when Shane MacGowan shuffles onstage uncertainly, as if an arrow might keep him on the straight and narrow. His bandmates have been greeted like homecoming heroes as they assemble, but that's nothing compared to the roar that rolls round the room when Shane staggers on. He's the drinking man's drinking man, someone blessed with the gift to wring beauty from what is clearly a tragic affliction.

Tonight's show is part of what the guitarist Phil Chevron describes as The Pogues' "first farewell tour", but there's scant valedictory element to it. Though fattened in places by a horn section, it's the same raucous riff-raff sound as always, the deceptively raggedy rustic-punk surface concealing a wealth of sly detail, particularly when Jem Finer's banjo, Terry Woods's cittern and Spider Stacy's tin whistle cut through the band's rowdy charge, dancing filigree lines around the riffs.

Though the band's undoubted icon, MacGowan takes frequent breaks, wandering back up the taped pathway to let his bandmates take the spotlight for a while. Spider Stacy does a lovely "Tuesday Morning", and Chevron, resplendent in pork-pie hat and what appear to be white spats, takes lead vocal on his own "Thousands Are Sailing", an anthemic crowd favourite. Another instrumental, Finer's "Metropolis", features a brash and throaty horn break of noir-ish manner, like a cop-show theme, while the arrangement of MacGowan's "London Girl" furnishes further evidence of the band's diversity, with its engaging cajun and ragtime overtones.

I confess I couldn't understand a word of MacGowan's inchoate between-songs patter, and I suspect he couldn't either. But as soon as the songs started he became a lucid and commanding presence, bringing to vivid life the rough-hewn charm and poignant melody of "A Pair of Brown Eyes", and restoring a gritty, populist appeal to folk standards like "And the Band Played Waltzing Matilda" and the climactic, rousing version of "Dirty Old Town", as heartwarming a community singalong as Ewan MacColl could have wished for his most famous song.


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©independent.co.uk

[Clash Cadillac]

Thanks for posting these Zuzana, I get goose bumps from every review and wish March would get here already.

[NewJerseyRich]

Excellent Zuzana Thank you! Clash and I seem to agree for once.......March can't get here fast enough!