Dropkick Murphys w/Against Me!
Roseland Ballroom, New York, NY
March 10, 2011

I’d been trying to see the Dropkick Murphys forever. I went to school right near Boston and was aware of their following, through word of mouth and from the frequent indication on their website that every show they were ever about to play had already been sold out, even those five and six Boston shows in a row. I was thrilled to get tickets this year and would return to Roseland after only a few months this time, not after years in between.

But the week got off to an odd start. Roseland caught fire. A friend of mine lives on that same block and I heard it first then, then kept tabs on the story online. Eerie timing. Luckily, no one was seriously hurt. Luckily for me, the show I was hoping to attend, the first one post-fire, would go on as planned. There was no extant smoke, and it didn’t taste like burning. There seemed to be fewer people in the mezzanine, the level up where the fire apparently was, but it didn’t seem entirely shut down. The ground floor was thoroughly packed, though, and made for a great collective experience.

Against Me!

Playing right before the Dropkick Murphys was Against Me!, one of those punk bands accused of selling out for simultaneously having tattoos and writing catchy songs that even non-punks can enjoy. As an uncool fish too happy to swim in the mainstream, I have no ideological axe to grind with these fellas, and having seen them for the third time, was more impressed than ever. They opened for Foo Fighters in February of ’08 – not a stretch considering Tom Gabel’s controlled screams – and I also saw them in October of ’09 at their own headlining show at Webster Hall. These were both fine sets, but their most recent showing felt different. A new drummer (included on their most recent White Crosses) helped tighten up the sound, and Gabel’s move from stage right to center stage and the growing of his hair (apparently per a bet) refocused the attention. But throughout the band’s 12 or so songs was an energy I hadn’t seen before. The screams were all nailed and most noticeably, songs were played faster than on the record. But they also didn’t seem rushed. The band sounded absolutely excited to be playing then and there and, despite their already distorted style, attacked their songs much more aggressively, with a bit of nuance the only real sacrifice. I love when openers are exceedingly talented themselves, especially when I’ve seen them headline their own show, and this time was a textbook example. Good on them.

Going into the Dropkick Murphys’ set, I was curious how they’d be received in this rival city of theirs. Staunch Red Sox fans, all they boasted was a Bruins logo on the bass drum head. They’re professionals and the fans who paid for tickets likely wouldn’t come just to boo them. In fact, lefty bassist and singer Ken Casey called out a jerkass fan, from an earlier show in Philadelphia, who besmirched Bobby Orr. A savvy move by Casey, finding that common enemy. Also sensible was to give a quick shout-out to the many Bostonians who made the trip down before playing “The State of Massachusetts,” maybe the most well-known song in the set to that point.

Dropkick Murphys

I’ve always said The Faint played the loudest show I ever saw, at Webster Hall in May of 2005, but the Dropkick Murphys played a very close second. I forgoed my usual poor man’s earplugs – the normally adequate balled-up scraps of napkin (also a great band from the early ’70s) – for real ones, and the choice was prescient. It was loud as hell and I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. The crowd was pretty peaceful, and heeded the sign at the entrance, neither moshing nor body-surfing, really. The overabundance of sweatshirts and hats, Irish ones and backward caps, brought a distinctly Massachusetts vibe that I do recall from my previous life.

It also turns out that I didn’t know the band as well as I thought. Full-throated singer Al Barr, the one without a guitar, sang on and was onstage for less than half of the songs. He carried himself like a boxer while on, though, confrontational enough. Ken Casey sang the rest, working the crowd well despite not being as extroverted as Barr. I do have to admit the band suffers from “E Street Excess,” for lack of a better term. The occasional violins were more for show than for sound, an even the banjo/mandolin/lute player only really cut through on mandolin and during his intro banjo solos on “The State of Massachusetts” and “I’m Shipping Up to Boston.” The bagpipes were a huge and audible bonus, though, as was the tin whistle. Quite a spectacle though, and one thoroughly matched by its overall sound.

I roll my eyes as I type that “I’m Shipping Up to Boston” was the night’s highlight, given how obvious a choice that would be. It’s as telling about my inexperience with the band as it is about the concert itself. But it’s true, and there’s always a reason why certain songs gain that level of appeal. During a show that lasted about 90 minutes and felt three times as long, for the loudness and for how many short songs they played, “I’m Shipping Up to Boston” was the song with the most space in it. Many of the others were wonderful, in-your-face songs that accelerated to full speed and stopped as quickly, all instruments seemingly going all the time. But as the rhythm of this particular song draws you in, the divets in the wall of sound break up the flow just enough for it all to stand admirably out.

Seeing this band that uses my own initials as their abbreviation (“DKM”) had a little bit of a Bucket List kind of feel to it, finally having done something I’d always wanted to do. I was happy to do it, and recommend that anyone does the same. Next on the list: Seeing them in Boston. The roof of that venue might be blown clear off, even without any fire damage.