Dropkick Murphys loom so large over the current Irish Punk/Celtic scene that it’s hard to give an objective opinion about their new album. Their importance cannot be understated. Indeed Dropkick Murphys are a major reason why many bands on this website exist; in fact, it’s a primary reason why the website itself exists.
Added to this somewhat grandiose opening statement is the fact that, while the band has been huge in it’s beloved Boston for years, recent national exposure via “I’m Shipping Up to Boston” in Martin Scorsese’s Academy Award winning film The Departed is now making them huge nationwide. If one looks at record sales, one can determine that there exists something of an event surrounding this latest offering. However, when a genre-defining band releases a new album in this sort of Boston/Celtic Zeitgeist, there also exists a weird type of conundrum; there will be longtime fans who offer nothing but support, there will be detractors that cry “sell-outs”, there will be an embarrassing contingent of fleeting fans in Bruins jerseys who hop aboard all the latest trends, and then there will just be the regular Joe Bud Light who likes the band for whatever reason, with however much fervor they so choose. And that’s simply the way of the music fan. And somewhere in the middle lies the truth about this record.
American Heritage defines “evolution” as 1. A gradual process in which something changes into a different and usually more complex or better form. 2. The process of developing. Dropkick Murphys have, for better or worse, been evolutionary since their inception. It took me a second to realize this, but unless you are Cock Sparrer or AC/DC, the natural process is to evolve, if only in a small way, to satisfy themselves as artists, and to make the type of music they have the technical chops to make. Bands evolve. This is nothing new, but rather a well-worn cliché with the rock’n’roll canon.
In truth, bassist Ken Casey has said that the band now is pretty much how he envisioned it from the beginning, he simply didn’t have the resources to put together all of the instrumentation he wanted, in 1996 in the fledgling Boston punk/oi! scene. Fair enough. And while I’m often times nostalgic for the Do or Die 4 piece that played basement shows in Chicago, I respect this band, and put them on s pedestal above many classic oi!/punk bands who also evolved. Why? Because unlike groups like your SSD’s or Stiff Little Fingers (to use two of DKM’s longtime influences) this band’s evolution did not include making music that I’d consider far less than stellar.
The results of The Meanest of Times? I’ve had the chance to listen to the album many times over, and I can safely say that it’s my favorite Dropkick Murphys record since Sing Loud, Sing Proud. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve enjoyed each post-Sing Loud album on it’s own merits, and I feel they all have their strong suits, but I think The Meanest of Times is the most solid of the three. The most cohesive and complete.
The album kicks off with one of my favorite tracks, Famous For Nothing, which details the woes, but also the good times, of growing up in Catholic schools. The track has a nice driving rock’n’roll punch to it, and a catchy-as-hell pre-chorus and chorus.
From here, the album runs the gamut of styles that have influenced Dropkick Murphys since day one: punk, Irish, hardcore, traditional and others in-between.
One of the things that really drags down modern day oi!/streetpunk is badly clichéd lyrics. One only needs to look at something like The State of Massachusetts to see that lyrics need not always be about the same tired barroom crap. Probably the most poignant on the record, dealing with drug problems, and the reality a lot of kids grow/grew up with, it really does show how the band have matured.
To be honest, a few of the past choices of traditionals have left me a bit under whelmed, but the inclusion of Flannigan’s Ball (a reworking of an old Irish tune Lannigan’s Ball) works as well as any they’ve ever done. Why? Something about the song seems dark to me, and hearing Dubliner Ronnie Drew’s vocals, mixed with Pogues whistler Spider Stacey, mixed with Ken and Al really works. Ronnie Drew has an amazing voice, and hearing him speed it up for this tune was really something, and for lack of a better word, “cool.”
Shattered is a nice, simple, straight-ahead hardcore offering, sans any Irish flavor, that shows the Dropkick Murphys have lost none of their Boston Hardcore roots, and showcases drummer Matt Kelly at his best. The inclusion of such songs is a treat for me, and reminds me of the old days. I, for one, appreciate songs on the album like this one and I’ll Begin Again the break away from the full-on Irish flavor that the majority possesses.
An example of how the full-on Irish flavor works amazingly is Rude Awakenings, which sounds like it could well be a hundred’s years old Irish tune. It truly sounds like something The Dubliners could have recorded. The banjo playing is outstanding, the pipes compliment the tune to a tee, and the age-old subject matter of getting drunk, and getting into misadventures with the opposite sex, is a can’t miss – passed down from generations of drunken, horny Micks to Ken Casey’s pen.
The album closes on a universal theme for a band that has always remained loyal to it’s city, it’s friends and it’s family. Never Forget, singing the virtues of such loyalties, succinctly wraps up an album that, indeed, seems to preach these very virtues from start to finish.
Certainly this band has evolved, but the core beliefs that started the band remain intact, and the music never suffers. The band may grow, and the fan base as well (and I can’t think of a more deserving group of folks for this to happen to) but the values remain the same. To reiterate, “evolution: A gradual process in which something changes into a different and usually more complex or better form.”
More complex. And better.
2007
Review: Sean Holland