9.5

Genre:

Rock

Label:

MCA

Reviewed:

September 8, 2024

When Shane MacGowan died last year, it felt like the passing of a head of state. In a sense it was: The Irish president attended the funeral; a pre-recorded Bono read from St. Paul’s Letter to the Corinthians; Nick Cave sang a moving “Rainy Night in Soho.” And by the time the assembly was laying into an unexpurgated reading of “Fairytale of New York”—a white-bearded Glen Hansard leading the congregation, with neo-trad ambassador Lisa O’Neill singing Kirsty MacColl’s parts, Spider Stacey and other Pogues accompanying them on instruments as MacGowan’s widow and others waltzed near the altar—it’s a fair bet many of those present, not to mention those watching the livestream, were blinking back tears. (I certainly was.) Even the pious outcries that followed this unconventional mass felt perfect—one imagined MacGowan’s jagged grin shining down from heaven.

Why such reverence? For one thing, MacGowan and the Pogues elevated Irish roots music to trendy status. Indeed, aficionados respected the 1970s Irish folk revival bands like Planxty and Clannad, the latter having briefly collaborated with cosmic music pioneer Conny Plank and kickstarting the career of sibling Enya before achieving their own mainstream success. Some American country artists noted the Irish influence on their own genres. Furthermore, Bob Dylan covered several Irish-rooted songs, including a remarkable rendition of “The Auld Triangle” discovered among the Basement Tapes.

In New York City, as punk emerged in venues like CBGB and Max’s within the Irish expatriate community, one could still detect the folk revival tunes of 1960s favorites the Clancy Brothers and the Dubliners in numerous Irish pubs. Yet these places were more popular with retirees and off-duty officers than as live music venues. By the early 1980s, prior to Riverdance and Van Morrison’s collaboration with the Chieftains, Irish traditional music was mainly reserved for family events, rolled out alongside green beer and public revelry on St. Patrick’s Day.

Yet, the Pogues transcended mere revivalism. They forged a musical legacy of their own, largely from the creative and dramatically distinct vocals of MacGowan, their lead vocalist and principal songwriter. His talent was evident from their debut album, Red Roses for Me. Featuring a mix of classics, including “The Auld Triangle,” the album also showcased MacGowan’s original “Boys From the County Hell,” a fierce, myth-promoting anthem filled with poetic flair:

The boys and me are drunk and looking for you
We’ll eat your frigging entrails and we won’t give a damn
Me daddy was a blue shirt and my mother a madam
My brother earned his medals at My Lai in Vietnam

The heavy drinking, shared gang-like bonds, sardonic wit, and the complex, violent past involving occupation and emigration are crucial elements in the succinct storytelling style, accompanied by rousing tunes fitting for lively dances. The Pogues emerged from the early British punk scene, with MacGowan becoming a notable figure by chance. His rise began with him being caught in a photograph at a Clash concert with a bloodied ear, followed by creating a one-off magazine named Bondage. Despite their British origin, which added complexity, the goal wasn’t merely to be accepted into the realm of Irish traditional music. Instead, their music delved deeper, drawing on the deep-seated cultural heritage of the Irish diaspora—a testament to the band’s inherent “Britishness.”

This blend of influences culminated in the album Rum Sodomy & the Lash, produced by Elvis Costello, a notable figure in the British punk-pop scene with some Irish lineage. Costello joined the project after he had the Pogues open for his Goodbye Cruel World tour, partly influenced by his interest in their bassist Cait O’Riordan, who he later dated. In the studio, Costello contributed with acoustic guitar and mandolin, and suggested musical adjustments. Session musicians, such as Irish folk piper Tommy Keane—a renowned musician, and American fiddler Henry Benagh, were also brought in. Costello focused on capturing the raw energy of the band with minimal interference, aiming to preserve their rugged charm.

The album encapsulates the raucous atmosphere of a bar in full swing, blending acoustic and electric instruments, alongside robust vocal performances. In tracks like “I’m a Man You Don’t Meet Every Day” sung by O’Riordan and “Jesse James” performed by tin whistle player Spider Stacy, the album embraces a diverse music style, mixing traditional narratives with energetic delivery.

Central to the album is MacGowan, as songs like “The Sick Bed of Cuchulainn” exemplify. His compelling presence and raw vocal expressions transport the listener to the heart of tumultuous scenes, filled with uproarious behavior and rowdy revelry. MacGowan’s performances invoke vivid images of chaotic life experiences, marked by fighting, excessive drinking, and outrageous antics, culminating in triumphant, spirited outbursts, perfectly aligned with the band’s vibrant musical accompaniment.

MacGowan was notably well-read from an early age, delving into the works of Dostoyevsky and Joyce, and had a reputation for his literary prowess even before his expulsion from London’s prestigious Westminster School for drug-related offenses. His admiration for literary songwriters like Lou Reed was evident, a connection perhaps deepened by their shared experiences of spending time in mental hospitals during their teen years. MacGowan’s own stint was referenced in the Pogues’ debut single, “Dark Streets of London,” and he later contributed to the 1997 BBC charity single, a cover of Reed’s “Perfect Day.” His song “The Old Main Drag” presents a vivid piece of Reed-esque realism, portraying the gritty life of a teenage rent boy in London.

As for his songwriting, MacGowan’s ballads are considered his crowning achievement, similar to Reed’s. His song “A Pair of Brown Eyes” stands out as an early masterpiece, layered with stories and sub melodies, drawing from the traditional “Wild Mountain Thyme.” The narrative weaves through a pub where the protagonist listens to iconic tunes like Johnny Cash’s “A Thing Called Love” and Philomena Begley & Ray Lynam’s “My Elusive Dreams.” The impactful nature of MacGowan’s storytelling was so striking that it moved his bandmates profoundly.

Other notable works include “Sally MacLennane” and his rendition of Phil Gaston’s “Navigator,” an anthem reflecting on the life and toils of laborers. However, his interpretations of “Dirty Old Town,” originally by Ewan MacColl, and “And the Band Played Waltzing Matilda,” by Eric Bogle, are defining pieces of his album. Though other versions, like June Tabor’s 1976 recording exist, MacGowan’s renditions bring a unique, poignant touch that aligns with his artistic identity.

The album Rum Sodomy & the Lash made the Pogues stars on the international stage, embodied by its dada-classical cover and the boldness of its content. Following this success, they produced other acclaimed works like Poguetry in Motion and If I Should Fall From Grace With God. However, the brightness of these years dimmed by 1991, marked by MacGowan’s exit from the band, primarily due to his struggles with substance abuse. Despite this downturn, the band persisted albeit less notably than before.

MacGowan continues to be celebrated as a master among songwriters. The esteemed David Berman once listed Rum Sodomy & the Lash among the top 10 albums essential for his ideal, imaginary bar jukebox on Pitchfork. Cat Power transformed “A Pair of Brown Eyes” into a reverential cover, available for viewing on YouTube, while Titus Andronicus reinterpreted it as a vibrant punk rock anthem reminiscent of the early days of The Clash, also on YouTube. In the expanded 2005 edition of Rum Sodomy & the Lash, which also featured the notable Poguetry in Motion EP and various single B-sides, Tom Waits penned a poetic tribute to the band:

Rapscallion, angry, weeping
Passed out songs, songs
That seem to be born
Effortlessly, or
Not born but found
On top of an old wood stove

Waits remarked these were “songs that we all should carry,” a sentiment echoed in the communal experiences of music lovers, whether in pubs, vehicles, or gatherings like an impromptu choir under the summer stars, around a roaring campfire on Cape Cod’s shores, illuminated by shared melodies and the ocean’s gentle call. Notably, “A Pair of Brown Eyes” always stirs the most fervent participation, its timeless sorrow resonating with every note.

Correction: The initial review erroneously credited Shane MacGowan with the creation of “Navigator.” It was actually penned by Phil Gaston.