Spring Break
Last Week Live: Dropkick Murphys
Issue date: 3/12/09
"Now I bet we've got a couple of transplants in the audience - are there any Massholes out there?" Al Barr asked the rumbling crowd at the Dropkick Murphys concert last Thursday at Rams Head Live!.
The fans who'd gathered for the event appeared to be largely homogeneous. They were mostly men, as Barr suggested, reminiscent of a blue-collar Bostonian workforce. "I know there are, I can smell you," Barr added, answering his own question, and threw a bottle of water out into the crowd. Perhaps he figured that a shower was in order.
I think he was right - the venue was thick with the scent of sweat. And while Barr's query was met with scattered cheers, I got the impression, gazing around at the enthused attendees, that the majority of the individuals enjoying the Dropkick Murphys live wished they could respond in the affirmative.
The Murphys' arrival on stage was preceded by 10 minutes of sporadic chanting - "Let's go Murphys!" The crowd was lively, equally consisting of middle-aged men and young, carefully groomed troublemakers.
When the Murphys finally presented themselves, they made a show of it; a slow song began to play, a woman's tremulous voice was heard, and the crowd began to clap in time. Flickering yellow flames lit themselves across the stage and then, as the music reached an eerie climax, the band emerged at last, the crowd breaking into cheers.
The plain black backdrop was ripped away to reveal a fabric mural featuring three enormous shamrock-covered stained glass windows. The brightly colored lights flashed on and the Murphys broke into exuberant and almost immediately exhausting song.
They played a number of songs from their newest release, The Meanest of Times, including the sharp standout, "Johnny, I Hardly Knew Ya," which Barr bit out to great effect.
Shortly afterwards, having broken briefly to chat with attendees, the Murphys launched into a series of songs unpunctuated by commentary or crowd interaction, bleeding into each other as the audience showed their approval.
The fans who'd gathered for the event appeared to be largely homogeneous. They were mostly men, as Barr suggested, reminiscent of a blue-collar Bostonian workforce. "I know there are, I can smell you," Barr added, answering his own question, and threw a bottle of water out into the crowd. Perhaps he figured that a shower was in order.
I think he was right - the venue was thick with the scent of sweat. And while Barr's query was met with scattered cheers, I got the impression, gazing around at the enthused attendees, that the majority of the individuals enjoying the Dropkick Murphys live wished they could respond in the affirmative.
The Murphys' arrival on stage was preceded by 10 minutes of sporadic chanting - "Let's go Murphys!" The crowd was lively, equally consisting of middle-aged men and young, carefully groomed troublemakers.
When the Murphys finally presented themselves, they made a show of it; a slow song began to play, a woman's tremulous voice was heard, and the crowd began to clap in time. Flickering yellow flames lit themselves across the stage and then, as the music reached an eerie climax, the band emerged at last, the crowd breaking into cheers.
The plain black backdrop was ripped away to reveal a fabric mural featuring three enormous shamrock-covered stained glass windows. The brightly colored lights flashed on and the Murphys broke into exuberant and almost immediately exhausting song.
They played a number of songs from their newest release, The Meanest of Times, including the sharp standout, "Johnny, I Hardly Knew Ya," which Barr bit out to great effect.
Shortly afterwards, having broken briefly to chat with attendees, the Murphys launched into a series of songs unpunctuated by commentary or crowd interaction, bleeding into each other as the audience showed their approval.
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Grant E.
posted 3/28/09 @ 1:45 AM EST
Al Barr doesn't sing on "Johnny, I Hardly Knew Ya." It was Ken Casey.
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