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| Sir Stonesalot |
Yeah, I think I can cover most of those...and what I don't have I can get from Uncle Wiggly.
Do we know what time we are leaving on Sunday?
I gotta work a double on Saturday, so I can't do any shopping for booze. Can I ask you'se guys to do the buyin' and I'll kick in however much you need kicked in.
I'm partial to whiskey for this particular trip. Jameson's is OK, but I prefer Powers(Shane's fave, according to his book...)if yer going Irish. And, of course, Guinness.
Man, I can't tell you how happy I am that you decided to stick it out and do this. I've been waiting for this show for 15+ years. And now it's here. It just wouldn't have been the same if you weren't there to see it with me.
I was listening to If I Should Fall this morning, and your mum flashed into my head. Memory plain as day, we were sitting around drinking coffee in her living room. We were playing that CD for her, and I remember watching her eyes light up....her eyes were dancing. I remember her laughing at all the right times, clapping along. "Oh wonderful, wonderful." she would say. I also remember how funny the line "Now get the fuck off to bed" struck her. Plain as day man. I was sitting on MY couch, but it felt like I was still sitting on HER couch....
So not only am I gonna have a wee nip for Danny Boy...I'm having a few for yer mum too.
I have Vicodin to help out with the hang over.
My only rule, that I hope we can stick to...is to not end up in the NYPD drunk tank. Although, all things considered, that would be an appropos end to the trip.... |
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| FPM C10 |
Yeah, I think I can cover most of those...and what I don't have I can get from Uncle Wiggly.
COOL. IF YOU CAN JUST COME DOWN A HALF HOUR EARLY WE'LL TAKE CARE OF BURNING THE DISKS (I DON'T THINK IT'LL ALL FIT ON ONE)
Do we know what time we are leaving on Sunday?
WE WERE THINKING A BIT BEFORE NOON - THERE'S NO REAL RUSH. SUNDAY'S THE EASIEST DAY FOR THAT DRIVE.
I gotta work a double on Saturday, so I can't do any shopping for booze. Can I ask you'se guys to do the buyin' and I'll kick in however much you need kicked in.
CAN (AND WILL) DO!
I'm partial to whiskey for this particular trip. Jameson's is OK, but I prefer Powers(Shane's fave, according to his book...)if yer going Irish. And, of course, Guinness.
THANKS FOR THE TIP - CAN YOU BRING THAT BOOK ALONG?
Man, I can't tell you how happy I am that you decided to stick it out and do this. I've been waiting for this show for 15+ years. And now it's here. It just wouldn't have been the same if you weren't there to see it with me.
YEAH, I DON'T KNOW WHAT THE HELL I WAS THINKING. WALLOWING IN SELF PITY, I GUESS, WHICH IS SOMEWHAT APROPOS. BUT I WOULDN'T MISS THIS FOR THE WORLD, AND WE DO NEED TO SEE IT TOGETHER. BROWNIE, ON THE OTHER HAND, HAS BAILED ON US.
I was listening to If I Should Fall this morning, and your mum flashed into my head. Memory plain as day, we were sitting around drinking coffee in her living room. We were playing that CD for her, and I remember watching her eyes light up....her eyes were dancing. I remember her laughing at all the right times, clapping along. "Oh wonderful, wonderful." she would say. I also remember how funny the line "Now get the fuck off to bed" struck her. Plain as day man. I was sitting on MY couch, but it felt like I was still sitting on HER couch....
YEP. I REMEMBER THAT DAY PERFECTLY TOO. OF COURSE IT'S MY MOM WHO TAUGHT ME HOW TO IGNORE ALL THE OTHER NATIONALITIES IN MY BLOODSTREAM AND ACCENTUATE THE IRISH. SHE LOVED THE POGUES (OF COURSE) AND THAT SONG MADE HER LAUGH SO MUCH...
SIT DOWN BY THE FIRE
Sit down by the fire
And I'll tell you a story
To send you away to your bed
Of the things you hear creeping
When everyone's sleeping
And you wish you were out here instead
It isn't the mice in the wall
It isn't the wind in the well
But each night they march
Out of that hole in the wall
Passing through on their way
Out of hell
They're the things that you see
When you wake up and scream
The cold things that follow you
Down the Boreen
They live in the small ring of trees on the hill
Up at the top of the field
And they dance on the rain
And they dance on the wind
They tap on the window
When no-one is in
And if ever you see them
Pretend that you're dead
Or they'll bite off your head
They'll rip out your liver
And dance on your neck
They dance on your head
They dance on your chest
They give you the cramp
And the cholic for jest
They're the things that you see
When you wake up and scream
The cold things that follow you
Down the Boreen
They live in the small ring of trees on the hill
Up at the top of the field
They play on the wind
They sing on the rain
They dance on your eyes
They dance in your brain
Remember this place
It is damp and it's cold
The best place on earth
But it's dark and it's old
So lie near the wall
And cover your head
Good night and God bless,
Now fuck off to bed
***********************
So not only am I gonna have a wee nip for Danny Boy...I'm having a few for yer mum too.
OH MY YES. BECAUSE SHE AND DANNY BOY WILL BE UP IN IRISH HEAVEN HAVING A WEE NIP, BEAMING DOWN ON US. IF THEY'RE NOT AT THE NOKIA THEMSELVES!
I have Vicodin to help out with the hang over.
My only rule, that I hope we can stick to...is to not end up in the NYPD drunk tank. Although, all things considered, that would be an appropos end to the trip....
I THINK MAYBE WE SHOULD LEARN THE WORDS TO 'GALWAY BAY' JUST IN CASE....
HAVE YOU CHECKED OUT THE POGUES' BOARD? "The Wake of the Medusa". PHILIP CHEVRON POSTS ON IT REGULARLY! MY BOARD NAME IS O'BLIVION. |
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| Candace Youngblood |
I have nominated myself as the alcohol purchaser...
SS--
Guinness: Will one case be enough? I will only need 2-3 beers for myself. I don't know if Butterbean drinks it.
Whiskey--...I have only used Jameson in car bombs, but I'll look for whateveritscalled. Maybe I'll buy an assortment.
I'm the Pogues newbie on this trip. I have only been listening for...well since I've been with FPM. 2 1/2 years. I am excited and glad to be getting the rare chance of seeing them. And glad to be sharing it with you guys. We'll have a blast!
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| Sir Stonesalot |
John Powers Irish Whiskey tastes like jet fuel, and kicks like a mule in a foul mood. You don't have to buy that stuff on my account. I'm cool with Jameson's. Whatever you guys like the most. I fuckin' drink just about anything. Jameson's is good in coffee for a bit of the hair o' the dog in the morning....
I think one case of Guinness is plenty. I know that Butterbean doesn't drink it, so without Brownie tagging along, there's just the three of us drinking it. I mean, I'm sure we'll have a few out as well, so one case should make it.
I am NOT drinking any of that Bailey's stuff. I'm strickly sluggin' straight outta the bottle.
Flea, I think I can lay my hands on that book pretty easily. I'll try to remember it for you. It's not very good, but worth a look.
I'll bring the soundboard that I have too... |
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| FPM C10 |
SOUNDBOARD??? SOUNDBOARD!!!????
What soundboard is THAT, pray tell?
Well, I'm not sure that a Pogues soundboard would tell the tale. But I'd still like to hear it.
Hey, have you rented the DVD about Shane called "If I Should Fall From Grace With God" yet? I know you're on that Netflix thingy, and I think they have it. |
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| FPM C10 |
Mr. MacGowan is not the only King-Hell Genius Songwriter in the Pogues....
THOUSANDS ARE SAILING
(Philip Chevron)
The island it is silent now
But the ghosts still haunt the waves
And the torch lights up a famished man
Who fortune could not save
Did you work upon the railroad
Did you rid the streets of crime
Were your dollars from the white house
Were they from the five and dime
Did the old songs taunt or cheer you
And did they still make you cry
Did you count the months and years
Or did your teardrops quickly dry
Ah, no, says he, 'twas not to be
On a coffin ship I came here
And I never even got so far
That they could change my name
Thousands are sailing
Across the western ocean
To a land of opportunity
That some of them will never see
Fortune prevailing
Across the western ocean
Their bellies full
Their spirits free
They'll break the chains of poverty
And they'll dance
In Manhattan's desert twilight
In the death of afternoon
We stepped hand in hand on Broadway
Like the first man on the moon
And "The Blackbird" broke the silence
As you whistled it so sweet
And in Brendan Behan's footsteps
I danced up and down the street
Then we said goodnight to Broadway
Giving it our best regards
Tipped our hats to Mister Cohan
Dear old Times Square's favorite bard
Then we raised a glass to JFK
And a dozen more besides
When I got back to my empty room
I suppose I must have cried
Thousands are sailing
Again across the ocean
Where the hand of opportunity
Draws tickets in a lottery
Postcards we're mailing
Of sky-blue skies and oceans
From rooms the daylight never sees
Where lights don't glow on Christmas trees
But we dance to the music
And we dance
Thousands are sailing
Across the western ocean
Where the hand of opportunity
Draws tickets in a lottery
Where e'er we go, we celebrate
The land that makes us refugees
From fear of Priests with empty plates
From guilt and weeping effigies
And we dance
[Edited by FPM C10] |
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| FPM C10 |
from the NY Post:
IT'S WORKING ON THE SHANE GANG
March 18, 2006 -- THE POGUES
WITH more than a decade of hangovers and regrets since Shane MacGowan's last New York performance fronting the Pogues, the reunited band was a powerhouse of Celtic punk Thursday night.
At the first of a four-night musical binge at the Nokia Theatre (concluding tomorrow), MacGowan and company totally wowed the sold-out house.
MacGowan is older, but he's no wiser. The man remains scruffy and seemingly inebriated. Yet when he basks in the center-stage spotlight, he's able to transform stagger into swagger. And despite a mouth that's famously devoid of teeth, every song he sang had bite.
While most of the kids who packed the Nokia on Thursday were too young to have seen the band on its first go-around, this show found the original lineup in top form delivering a classic set.
All the great tunes were laid down for New York with a nod to traditional Irish music and a punk aesthetic that would have made the Ramones jig.
The performance opened with "Streams of Whiskey." That nod to Irish tea was a theme that ran through many of the evening's numbers. At this show, MacGowan was like Dean Martin, who cultivated an intoxicated cool as his Rat Pack image.
He was your favorite drunk who kept a bottle at his feet but didn't imbibe. Still, between songs he mumbled, grumbled and was as indecipherable as Popeye on shore leave. Likewise, his vocals were big, sloppy and slurringly wet - just as they should have been.
MacGowan was emphatic in his vocal conviction during "Bottle of Smoke" - so intense it felt like he was holding you by your lapels, half singing, half spraying you with spit.
And then Mr. Hyde yielded to Dr. Jekyll, and MacGowan was a romantic for the encore, the Pogues standard "A Fairytale of New York."
And it was a New York fairy tale for the devoted fans who've longed to hear the Pogues play live again. This once-upon-a-time band that self-destructed and reunited had a very happy ending at 12:01 a.m., ushering in the first minute of St. Patrick's Day with the celebratory - and decidedly non-Gaelic - "Fiesta."
[email protected]
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| Sir Stonesalot |
Fuck me.
24 hours. Lordy lordy just 24 more hours.... |
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| SheRat |
WELL, YOU FUCKERS?!?!?!?!
HOW WAS IT?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!? |
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| FPM C10 |
I don't remember being this keyed-up about ANY show, EVER.
Totally different than the Stones, who you were pretty sure were always coming back and, except for a rough spot in the 80s, were always there.
This is totally unexpected and you can't dare dream it'll happen again any time soon.
I don't know WHY in the hell we never saw them in the 80s - I never heard about them playing anywhere. I just read about a show they did on the Pier at Jones Beach with the Violent Femmes opening and Joe Strummer as a suprise guest. And when they fired Shane in '91 Joe sang lead for them for six months - are there boots of THAT anywhere?
Anyway, I am ready to spontaneously combust.
In 24 hours we will also be wearing this expression:
http://www.nytimes.com/2006/03/17/arts/music/17pogues.html
Some Old Irish Songs With Punk and Pop
By BEN RATLIFF
Published: March 17, 2006
Shane MacGowan took the stage yesterday evening, intoning some profane verses from Lou Reed's "Sister Ray," and then the Pogues fired into "Streams of Whiskey." When Mr. MacGowan removed his sunglasses, a few songs into his first performance in New York with the band in 15 years, you could look him in the eyes. Not the whites of them: he looked half-asleep, heavy-lidded, his face a slack, puffy frown surrounding missing teeth. The upper third of his face, anyway, was the most expressive part of his body.
Robert Caplin for The New York Times
The Irish rock band the Pogues made an appearance Thursday night at the Nokia Theater in Times Square, the first of four concerts there.
Robert Caplin for The New York Times
The crowd at the Pogues concert Thursday night.
In their seven-year run as an intact band, the Pogues amassed a cult audience around the world, fusing the sound of old Irish songs with punk and pop, bringing out the smashing force of a folkloric dance music. They made money; they had hits. They ejected Mr. MacGowan in 1991; he was only 33, but there was not much left in him, physically.
(One of his band members recently said that the end came when the singer was "leaving taxis horizontally.")
Conceivably, there could have been more life in the project. He, and other members in the band, had written a stack of first-rate songs about memory and hope and disappointment, about Irish culture moving and staying in place. With some traditional instruments, two-beats and waltzes and ballads, they sounded permanent. A little like Bob Dylan, they had created a sound in their youth that wasn't disappearing any time soon.
So the energies of the music had no problem last night, at the beginning of their four-night run at the Nokia Theater, during their first full American reunion tour. The energies of the singer did, intermittently, however. And for a Pogues show, the night before St. Patrick's Day, the crowd was more docile than one might have expected. It had aged, too, though not as sharply as Mr. MacGowan.
In a two-hour show that culled their best songs — opening with "Streams of Whiskey," running through "If I Should Fall From Grace With God," "Young Ned of the Hill," "Bottle of Smoke," "A Pair of Brown Eyes," "The Old Main Drag," and closing with "Fairy Tale of New York" and "Fiesta," they did as good a job as age and context would allow, playing well if slightly subdued.
Mr. MacGowan took breaks in the wings, vaguely restoring himself; others took the microphone to sing, including the tin-whistle player Spider Stacy and the guitarist Philip Chevron. But it was Mr. MacGowan who owned the best moments, with his lurching growl, especially in "Dirty Old Town," where the audience sang along through all four image-rich verses about kissing a girl by the factory wall and smelling the spring on the smoky wind. Turning words into syrup, he said a few unintelligible things between songs — something about Americans, something about Truman Capote and Jimmy Breslin. He drank on stage. But he appeared not to miss a word of a song.
The Pogues continue at Nokia Theater, 1515 Broadway, tonight, tomorrow and Sunday.
http://vancouver.24hrs.ca/Entertainment/2006/03/17/1492207-sun.html
MacGowan: Rogue of a Pogue
By GRAEME MCRANOR, 24 HOURS
Should you want to glimpse an Irishman who's the antithesis of, say, the politically sanctified, globe-trotting Bono, see If I Should Fall from Grace, a documentary on the life and bruising times of Tipperary-born Shane MacGowan.
He is the notorious foul-mouthed frontman with the post-punk folk band the Pogues, whose particular genius was writing songs that usually only he could howl and, conversely, became more coherent the more he strode off stage and returned bearing another pint of ale.
The band eventually ousted MacGowan but has now regrouped and is currently playing nine sold-out concerts in the U.S. This followed a reunion series of concerts last Christmas when the London Times reported that MacGowan "... stumbled on in his usual disarray" and, after his usual disappearing stage trick, returned to sing a terrific rendition - with a young singer called Ella Finer - of the enchanting "Fairytale of New York," a world classic duet he originally made with the late, exquisitely-voiced Kirsty MacColl.
The documentary features MacGowan, his family, actor Johnny Depp, singer Sinead O'Connor, Elvis Costello and MacColl, filmed while making a video of the duet with MacGowan. By all accounts a characteristically raw portrait of man, music and alcohol but, like the subject's lyrics, with perhaps a hint of redemption in there somewhere.
****
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| FPM C10 |
quote:
SheRat wrote:
WELL, YOU FUCKERS?!?!?!?!
HOW WAS IT?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?
Sure and it's Sunday we're goin' to see Shane an' the lads.
By all accounts last night's show was a religious experience.
[Edited by FPM C10] |
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| SheRat |
Damn!
I thought you saw em last night...
sorry. |
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| Sir Stonesalot |
I took an extra shift today. I had to do it. I figured the only way that I could make it through the day without losing my mind was to work for 16 hours straight, and then go home and collapse in exhaustion. It's the only way I'll get any sleep.
I bought a Team Ireland soccer jersey to wear to the show...and I'll be wearing my Guinness underwear. |
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| FPM C10 |
quote:
Sir Stonesalot wrote:
I bought a Team Ireland soccer jersey to wear to the show...and I'll be wearing my Guinness underwear.
Is THAT what they're callin' it these days???
Yeah, I'll be wearing MY "Guinness underwear" too!!! |
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| FPM C10 |
Look at this guy's face!!! I know EXACTLY what he's feeling...when Shane sings "I could've been someone" and the whole crowd yells "Well so could anyone", look over and you will see me wearing this same expression. Except you won't be able to because you'll be wearing it too. |
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| Sir Stonesalot |
No dude...I have actual Guinness boxer shorts.
That picture is priceless.
I'm gonna have to take my camera along....
Twenty FUCKIN five to one
Me gamblin days is done
I bet on a horse
Called Bottle of Smoke
And my horse won. YEEEEEAAAHHH! |
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| FPM C10 |
http://www.newsday.com/entertainment/music/ny-ledesing4666553mar18,0,4496924.story?coll=ny-music-print
MUSIC REVIEW
Pogues' worse-for-wear singer still has it
BY RAFER GUZMÁN
Newsday Staff Writer
March 18, 2006
The Pogues, the band that invented the enduring genre of Irish folk-punk, kicked off their first U.S. show in more than 15 years just in time for St. Patrick's Day Thursday night with "Streams of Whiskey," and it was as good a manifesto as any. On its face, the jaunty Irish jig is about a fanciful meeting with Brendan Behan, the IRA terrorist turned playwright. But singer Shane MacGowan wasn't much concerned with politics or literature.
"There's nothing ever gained by a wet thing called a tear," MacGowan ruminated in his slurred, gargly voice. "When the world is too dark, and I need the light inside of me/I'll walk into a bar and drink 15 pints of beer."
Few rock singers - living ones, anyway - are as synonymous with alcoholism and substance abuse as MacGowan. Throughout the 1980s, as the band proved that punk rock could be played with a tin whistle as well as an electric guitar, MacGowan fashioned himself into an almost mythological version of the hard-drinking, hell-raising Irishman. He was the classic causeless rebel, picking fights with anyone who looked like an authority figure, even if that person was merely minding the pub door.
The Pogues released a handful of landmark albums, including "Rum, Sodomy and the Lash" (produced by a kindred soul, Elvis Costello), but MacGowan's behavior eventually caught up with him. He developed a heroin habit to complement the alcohol and wound up missing a string of high-profile gigs (as the opening act for Bob Dylan) and his bandmates let him go, though they've reunited occasionally in recent years.
The rest of the Pogues soldiered on, and Thursday night it was obvious the years without MacGowan had served them well. Thanks mainly to Jim Fearnley's accordion, Spider Stacy's tin whistle and Terry Woods' trilling mandolin, the seven musicians formed a tightly knit unit that sounded more like a traditional Celtic group than a bunch of rowdy punk rockers. (The band has plans to release a live CD and DVD.)
At 48, MacGowan is noticeably worse for wear, puffy in the jowls and midsection, and waddling rather than walking. Still, his charisma was palpable. Though Stacey and other band members took turns on lead vocals (allowing their singer to slip away and refill his cup with who knows what), only MacGowan could really galvanize the crowd.
Though his snarl has softened, he still found the emotional core in his vulgar, beautiful songs. On "The Old Main Drag," he described the romance of discovering London as a youth ("With a fiver in my pocket I went down to the 'dilly to check out the scene") and the disillusion that comes with age ("I know that I am dying and I wish I could beg/For some money to take me from the old main drag").
The evening closed with the band's best-known song, "Fairytale of New York," a duet between two down-and-out lovers. Ella Finer, daughter of banjo player Jem Finer, took the part made famous by the late Kirsty MacColl. At the end, swirls of fake snow showered the couple while they danced.
THE POGUES. The Dylan Thomas of punk returns. Thursday through tomorrow at Nokia Theatre Times Square. Seen Thursday.
*****
Dylan Thomas was WELSH, wasn't he?
Still. It's a fair comparison.
"I've had 18 straight whiskeys. I believe that's a record." - Dylan Thomas's last words
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| GotToRollMe |
Damn, now I wish i had jumped on that ticket the other day. Have a BLAST you guys (I know you will), and if by some miracle they do "The Auld Triangle" or even "Five Green Queens," hoist one for me.
"It's a sad and beautiful world," indeed! Yer goin' to see THE POGUES!!!
[Edited by GotToRollMe] |
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| SheRat |
Well, what the hell??
Where are you guys? In the drunk tank?
Please report back when you've gotten your bail... |
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| FPM C10 |
We're back!
It was everything we wanted it to be.
We're a little verklempt.
I'll try to post a review tomorrow. I still can't quite bring all the details into focus. Just that it was brilliant and rowdy and amazing and fun and we all drank way too much, which in this instance was just the right amount.
Miss Youngblood was very insistent that we all go get Pogues tattoos after the show, but even in NYC finding a 24-hr tattoo parlor open Sunday night at midnight seemed unlikely.
So we didn't. But they would've looked like this:
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| pdog |
Good thing they were closed, getting ink while drunk is never a good idea! |
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| Candace Youngblood |
quote:
pdog wrote:
Good thing they were closed, getting ink while drunk is never a good idea!
I disagree. I still want one and the alcohol has long left my bloodstream.
What an amazing time we had.
I have post-concert depression today. |
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| FPM C10 |
I disagree too. I have no tattoos, and always thought "I want that design NOW but will I still think it's cool in 30 years?" But I am CERTAIN that I'll be a Pogues fan the day they put me in my box.
Now you'll sing a song of liberty for blacks and paks and jocks
And they'll take you from this dump you're in and stick you in a box
Then they'll take you to Cloughprior and shove you in the ground
But you'll stick your head back out and shout "We'll have another round"
At the graveside of Cuchulainn we'll kneel around and pray
And God is in His heaven, and Billy's down by the bay
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| pdog |
quote:
Candace Youngblood wrote:
I disagree. I still want one and the alcohol has long left my bloodstream.
and that's when you get it... Never get ink drunk, you bleed more and run the risk of infection and just a bad tattoo... If you want one, get one, just do it sober and take good care of it until it's healed, that's all I was saying... |
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| SheRat |
quote:
pdog wrote:
and that's when you get it... Never get ink drunk, you bleed more and run the risk of infection and just a bad tattoo... If you want one, get one, just do it sober and take good care of it until it's healed, that's all I was saying...
Pdog's right--it thins out the blood and that dilutes the ink. You can say you want a faded-looking tattoo, but that's like buying pre-ripped, faded jeans at Old Navy or buying a deliberately beat up, yet brank spankin' new, leather jacket. The tattoo is going to fade on its own as you get older--why start from half faded already...
Lots of places won't do you drunk, NOT because they think you won't want it when you sober up, but because it just makes for a poor quality tattoo which doesn't look good for their shop...
CANNOT WAIT to hear the review. Glad you guys had a good time (though, how could you not?)
[Edited by SheRat] |
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| pdog |
and never get a lower back tat like this...
Also, avoid Chinesse writing, the artists always just spell Beef with Brocolli.
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| Sir Stonesalot |
There's many bands that I know that I'll never get to see play live. Either dead or broken up....some both. I thought that The Pogues would be another one of those bands.
But on the 19th of March, that changed. I saw The Pogues.
We left around 11am on Sunday. On the way, we listened to a disc that Flea burned of all the songs that were in the setlists to date. When that was over it was Rum, Sodomy & the Lash. Somewhere around Allentown we made a pitstop and I broke out the Jameson's. I'm glad I wasn't driving...and thanks to Butterbean for doing so!.
We got to the hotel with a minimum of fuss. Then the drinking began in earnest. Around 6pm, I remembered that we needed to eat. So we headed out, and ended up in some faux Irish pub called O'Lunney's. The waitress didn't even know who or what the Pogues are! No matter, my food was pretty good, and they had Guinness and whiskey, so all was right with the world.
We made the short walk to the Nokia and made our way down into the theatre. We walked up to a place maybe 4 "rows" off the rail, dead center stage. The first band was on. They were good. The Utopian something or other. I don't remember the name. The lead guy in that band used to be in Black '47. After they finished up, Towers of London came on. They blew chunks. Here's a hint for ya fellas, if you are gonna start a band, and you want to model yourselves after someone else.....don't pick Poison. When the lead singer guy started giving the crowd shit about not paying enough attention to them...Flea yells out, "You're opening for the POGUES, what the fuck did you expect??!!??"
Thankfully, Towers of London was off the stage quick, and DJ Scratchy came out and spun tunes. He played some outstanding stuff. In the meantime, Candace Youngblood & I amused ourselves with making fun of Towers of London. We saw them sitting up in the VIP area off to the left and we waxed poetic about how much fun it would be to have a paintball gun to shoot them with. WAP! Right in the ear!
After what seemed like hours, but in reality was only about 15 minutes, DJ Scratchy stopped spinning, and the Clash's "Straight to Hell" came blasting out of the full PA. One by one The Pogues made their way out onto the stage...the last being Shane MacGowan.
Flea had predicted earlier in the day that the place would explode when they struck up the first song, Streams of Whiskey. He was right. I spent the next 2 hours fighting to keep my spot, which I did, jumping up and down, and singing(ok, screaming)my fave lyrics. I've been in some pretty rough crowds, but that was as physical as I've ever had to be in a crowd. I expected some rough stuff during some of the more uptempo songs....but who ever heard of moshing during something like "The Broad Majestic Shannon" or "Rainy Night in Soho". It was nuts. I quit counting how many times I got kicked in the head by crowd surfers. Someone tried to pick my pocket, but I felt it and stopped them. My wallet went into my punk rock jacket and got zippered up. Yeah, it got hot in that thing, but I still have my wallet.
The band was tight. Wonderful players all. I didn't know what to expect from Shane...but whatever it was, I got more than that. He looks like shit, all puffy and pasty. But the man can still do his job incredibly well. He still has that ridiculously emotion filled voice. The perfect voice for what he does. Other than repeating some verses, he remembered the lyrics well. During Irish Rover he came in at the wrong time and they eventually had to stop, and start again. It was funny though...not sad. It would have been great if Shane had been out there for every song, but when he is off the stage, the rest of the band did fine with the vocals. Phillip Chevron was very good on 1000's Are Sailing. In fact, it would have been a great show even if Shane didn't sing at all. Hell, I even got off on Tuesday Morning and I don't really care too much for that song. The little dance that Shane and Ella Finer do during Fairytale is hoaky, yet very touching at the same time...as was the hug that Ella gave her dad(Jem Finer)as she left the stage. Spider Stacy half beat himself to death playing the bar tray. This is gonna be one of those shows where little bits of stuff floats to the top randomly. You know what I mean? You'll be doing something...washing dishes, waiting on the mailman, cooking broccoli, and some random vision just leaps into your head. Well this show was full of that kind of stuff.
I think I can remember the setlist...Flea, help me out if I got it wrong....
Streams of Whiskey
If I Should Fall From Grace With God
Broad Majestic Shannon
Turkish Song of the Damned
Young Ned of the Hill
A Pair of Brown Eyes
Boys From County Hell
White City
Tuesday Morning
Old Main Drag
Syanara
Repeal of the Licensing Laws
Sunny Side of the Street
The Body of an American
Lullaby of London
Thousands are Sailing
Dirty Old Town
Bottle of Smoke
Sickbed of Cuchulanne
(encore)
Sally Maclennane
Rainy Night in Soho
Irish Rover
(encore)
Star of County Down
Fairytale of New York
Fiesta
Pretty great setlist, and very well executed. Loved every second of it. Here's a pic from my approx vantage point:
In the course of the show I got seperated from my compatriots. After stopping to help The Tossers give away some CDs, I headed back to the hotel. I fairly floated back. I was the first back, so I hung up my sweat soaked punk rock jacket(2 days later it's STILL a bit damp!)to dry, peeled off my sweat soaked clothes, and freshened up with a fresh Guinness and a long pull off the Jameson's. By the time my crew got back, I was a new man, and ready to drink hard.
Butterbean was the first to go down. But he was back awake in an hour. He almost had the bathroom door shut when he ripped a huge wet beer fart. The acoustics of our tiny little bathroom not only amplified the fart, but added some reverb too. Needless to say, we laughed until we were sore. As we got further into the early morning hours, we decided it was time to get some ink. Flea, rightly, reminded us that even though we were in NYC, we were not gonna find anyplace open. So we drank some more.
We needed tunes, so I played old blues songs through the clock radio using my iPod. Flea says..."Hey man, you got any Skip James?" and I go "Yeah." and played him some. Candace says "Hey, you got any Johnny Cash?" and I go "Yeah." and I played her some. It was strange, but all that music sounded so right coming out of those crappy, tinny speakers.
I don't know what time we ended up going to sleep, but I woke up and for some reason...I felt fine. No hangover at all. I was expecting one. A big one. The last thing I did before I went to sleep was drink a big thing of Gatorade. I think there must be something to this "rehydrate before bed" thing in stopping a hangover.
The trip home was uneventful.
Very few times will an event that you so look forward to, actually meet or exceed your expectations. This one did. I can die a happy man.
And I'm REALLY glad that my bro Flea was along. It wouldn't have been the same without him. |
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| pdog |
Great read SS... I bet somebody licked Flea for me during the show!
Was AC a bust? My sister is being very flakey, I'm worried about her! |
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| Sir Stonesalot |
AC? No, we decided not to go. I coulda got tix to the show easy enough(under face even), but I wasn't paying $450.00 to stay at the Borgata. And no, I really didn't want to stay anywhere else. I needed a room within stumblin' distance, and nothing is really within stumblin' distance of the Borgata. |
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| FPM C10 |
Good recap, my brother! I'll try to fill in some gaps:
My biggest worry was that I had built this gig up so much that it would never be able to fulfill my expectations. I've done that several times in the past - most recently with the Stones at MSG - and although my intentions were simply to do the groundwork, research the material, and familiarize myself and my friends with what we were likely to hear, what I had ended up doing was discovering that
the Pogues and Shane MacGowan stirred things so deep in my soul that I was half afraid that I would spend the whole show weeping. My middle name is Brennan and Shane is singing to that part of me. The middle of me.
It's not like that development was a complete surprise. I was already a big fan. The only Pogues album I was intimately familiar with was "If I Should Fall From Grace With God", but since I bought it in '88 it has remained on my Desert Island Disk list right beside Tom Waits' "Raindogs" - albums I couldn't imagine not having, albums that most definitely make the world a noticeably better place. (I had "Hell's Ditch" - produced by Joe Strummer - too, but it didn't move me nearly as much.) And there are several moments in "Fall From Grace" that always trigger tears in me, and which are meant to do so - although I admire the subtlety of the mechanisms. "And we raised a glass to JFK / And a dozen more besides / When I got back to my empty room, I suppose I must've cried". That one gets me every time. And of course the brilliant "Fairytale of New York". So I'd always been more than a casual fan, but over the last few weeks I transformed into a fanatic.
The ride up was, I'm sort of ashamed to say, the first time I'd listened to "Rum Sodomy & the Lash" from end to end, and it's every bit as good as Fall From Grace. We got coffee and spiked it with Jameson's to prime the pump.
When we got to NYC we drove past the statue of George M. Cohan - I regretted not having a hat to tip to dear ol' Times Square's favorite bard - and soon were ensconced in
a tiny room in the Milford Plaza (the lullaby of old Broadway) drinking and smoking and talking excitedly. We all did carbombs (the guys all did ours without the Bailey's - only Miss Youngblood followed the recipe)- I was going to curb my drinking at one point but then SS asked if the next shot was for Danny Boy or me sainted mither, so we had another round and then went to O'Lunney's for a bite to eat and more booze. We mentioned to our waitress that we were going to see the Pogues and she said, "Who?" I think I yelled at her, and then I told her she shouldn't say things like that out loud - she could (and should) be fired for not knowing who the Pogues are.
SS got a glass of John Powers Irish Whiskey (named after one of the Birmingham 6 I believe) and we all marveled at its octane. Whoooo!!
We went down the street to the Nokia and entered. Down a steep escalator to the bar area - Miss Youngblood ordered another drink - then into the theater. It was really small, a very very cool room. There were no seats, and we walked right up to a spot about 10 or 12 feet back from the rail. The first band was already playing. They were called Seanchai and the Unity Squad. They were okay and made sense as an opener - the only thing they played that I recognized was "Thank You (falettinmebemiceelfagin)" with uilleann pipes. They were doine in no time, and the next band came out in a few minutes. SS has already mentioned them. I thought they were more along the lines of Motley Crue, but the short version is: they sucked. They were every tired rock band cliche you could imagine. Pimply brats with dyed hair, shag haircuts, leather jackets and tight black stretch jeans. They should have played before Seanchai, or not at all.
The DJ, DJ Scratchy, was pretty cool, although he played the Creedence version of "I Put A Spell On You" rather than Screamin' Jay Hawkins. Scratchy used to DJ for the Clash. Good credentials.
Everyone knew they were going to play "Straight To Hell" as intro music, so when it started people went nuts. And then a lot of the crowd sang every word of it. Very very cool. We had been drinking heavily but at that point my head cleared and I got to this really lucid state of mind. I felt great.
When the Pogues came out it became unreal. Shane looked better than I thought he might, actually, with a jaunty Irish flat cap and a tri-color necktie untied around his neck, black shirt untucked to mask his puffiness, and a black fingerless glove on his left hand. As I had predicted (a real no-brainer, Criswell!) the place exploded and we were all leaping and laughing and singing "I am going, I am going \Any which way the wind may be blowing \I am going, I am going \Where streams of whiskey are flowing." At the end of the song, Miss Youngblood turned around and said "I need to get out of the mosh pit" (she was getting groped from every angle) but the band had started "If I Should Fall From Grace With God" and it got even rougher than it had been. It was like swimming in the ocean during a typhoon. We couldn't get out of the maelstrom until "The Broad Majestic Shannon", although they were STILL moshing to that. We went back a little bit, to where the crowd thinned out and the sound was much better, and watched the rest of the show from there.
The whole band was unreal - Terry Woods WAILED on the cittern and various other instruments, and sang "Young Ned of the Hill" with authority. Philip Chevron singing "Thousands Are Sailing" was an absolute highlight of the whole show, and his rhythm guitar ( he played a Gretsch County Gentleman and a variety of acoustics) was amazing. I liked Spider's pop song "Tuesday Morning" a lot, and The Clobberer came out from behind the drums to sing "Star of the County Down". When he did, Darryl (the bass player, natch) played drums and Phil played bass. And every song seemed stitched together by the clawhammer banjo of Jem Finer. The lead instrument was the accordion of maestro James Fearnley, who leaped from the drum riser and threw his instrument in the air. It was almost funny how absolutely FEROCIOUS and intense they were all night, playing banjos and accordions and tin whistle. And then they would get sentimental, but it somehow always skirted the maudlin - "Now the song is nearly over \ We may never find out what it means \But there's a light I hold before me \And you're the measure of my dreams \The measure of my dreams" - Shane clutching the mike stand with his leather glove, cigarette burned to a nub in the other, his voice a harsh bray that somehow managed to convey all the sad beauty of the world.
The only things I noticed Shane messing up was that he kept introducing the wrong song, and he sang the "drunken fuck on a Saturday night" line in Bottle of Smoke three times, but WHO FUCKING CARES. He was brilliant. And all of those songs were coming out of HIM, not a teleprompter. The whole audience sang "Dirty Old Town", along with the chorus of nearly every other song - "Buy me beer & whiskey cause I'm going far away!" "I'm a freeborn man of the USA"... Shane had greeted us by mumbling something about "American c*nts", which was met with cheers...and the closest I came to weeping was, of course, "Fairytale of New York" - IN New York. It WAS a fairy tale.
The last song, "Fiesta", was a hilarious train wreck. Jem Finer played saxophone and Spider beat himself senseless with that traditional Irish instrument the beer tray. It was great. When it was over, I went over and bought a "Turkish Song of the Damned" shirt and a Pogues pint glass. Then we went back to the hotel and drank more. And as SS mentioned, we all felt fine in the morning. Ah, the whole thing was damn near perfect - with my sweetheart and my best friends and Shane and the Pogues.
I will NEVER forget that show. I pray for more, but whatever happens, I know I will arrive in heaven a half an hour before the devil knows I'm dead, because I have seen the fucking Pogues.
[Edited by FPM C10] |
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