So here it is, later than a Lance Armstrong
apology, my review of Dropkick Murphys supported
by Teenage Bottlerocket. The Crowns should also
have an honourable mention here too, however thanks
to a mix up with the guestlist, I spent their
set in the pub down the road from The Forum while
frantically flicking through my phone’s
contacts calling Trigger and the tour manager.
Eventually, after battling through the snow and
beer I made it back to the venue and was allowed
in. I resisted the urge to cliché the hell
out of the box office by yelling “DON’T
YOU KNOW WHO I AM?” because frankly, nobody
did.
Teenage Bottlerocket emerged, coated in tattoos
and hooded and the Wyoming quartet wasted no time
in tearing into their songs with reckless abandon.
An early favourite was ‘Welcome to the Nuthouse’
from their album Warning Device. Channelling early
Offspring and NOFX their performance was energetic,
frantic, and catchier than Russell Brand with
Norovirus. More pop punk energy lifted from Warning
Device filled the Forum followed with ‘In
the Basement’, after which lead singer Ray
Carlisle proclaimed his love for having his girlfriend
urinate in his mouth. A nasty image, sure, but
I’d wager it’d be a welcome departure
from the Tuborg he was drinking throughout the
set.
A little Dropkick Murphys cheerleading came before
a breakneck version of The Ramones’ ‘Blitzkrieg
Bop’ came later in the set, which was another
highlight. Nothing warms a chilly January crowd
like a blast of New York vintage. All in all,
Teenage Bottlerocket were incredibly good fun,
and, having been largely unaware of the band before
the evening began, they certainly gained a new
fan in yours truly. TB were tight-sounding and
entertaining, as only a band entering their second
decade together can be and it’s clear to
see that they’ve certainly honed their skills
on the live scene. Long may the guys continue.
It was then time for Dropkick Murphys. The traditional
entrance to Irish folk music built the tension
before Boston’s flagship band launched into
the aptly titled opener ‘The Boys are Back’,
from recently released album Signed and Sealed
in Blood and the place erupted, making enough
noise to compensate for the 500 or so unfortunate
victims absent due to the weather. As you’d
expect from the Dropkicks there was crowd interaction-a-plenty
and enough beer swilling to drown the Boston Tea
Party. ‘Johnny, I hardly Knew Ya’
drew a spirited sing along, with cries of “Haroo-haroo”
echoing up to the rafters – a perfect storm
of drunken sentimentality and kick-in-the-face
Irish violence. It really was fantastic stuff.
Ken Casey lead the ramshackle bunch through ‘Going
Out in Style’ at full tempo, bellowing vocals
over bagpipes and whipping the crowd into a frenzy
that continued right through to the baseball-inspired
‘Jimmy Collins’ Wake’, which
was cut short thanks to a power failure that caused
an unwanted delay to proceedings. It appeared
that HMV’s recent retail woe had extended
to their sponsored venues. I suppose we should
expect nothing less from a company that can’t
even control their Twitter account. Still, the
delay provided a much needed break for beer refills
for most of the attendees while giving Casey the
chance to rest his trademark raspy vocals and
before long normal service resumed at full pelt.
Following the unscheduled mid-session interval,
‘Guns of Brixton’ was dropped into
the set, continuing the unofficial classic punk
covers theme of the evening before ‘Out
of Our Heads’ provided all the bouncing
and stranger hugging that one could possibly need
on a Thursday night and ‘Rose Tattoo’
- another from the new album – was an instant
sing along. Are there any Dropkicks songs that
aren’t?
Towards the end of the set came ‘I’m
Shipping Up to Boston’ – unarguably
the band’s most well known song thanks to
a lengthy video starring Matt Damon and some bloke
from The Shining. Some bands find such a successful
song something of a monkey on the back, but not
Dropkicks; they performed as if it was the first
time it had been aired, and the crowd reacted
in a similar fashion.
The encore contained the usual stage antics as
‘Barroom Hero’, ‘End of the
Night’ and ‘Skinhead on the MBTA’
were rattled through, by which time throats were
sore, bars were dry and t-shirts were soaked with
sweat. If there’s anything that can be taken
from this review, anything at all, then it should
be the overriding feeling that you should, nay
must, see Dropkick Murphys live the next time
they’re in the UK. It’s simply incredible.
And it wasn’t their fault the PA fucked
up.
Teenage Bottlerocket 4/5
Dropkick Murphys4/5
Review By Jack Turner
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