Though the throng treat the night as a karaoke singalong excuse to rattle out the 20% of lyrics they’re actually acquainted with, the highs are vertigo peaks.
In the lobby, the queue for the men’s toilets is 50 yards long, and there is no queue for the women’s – definitely a Pogues gig. Mundy, fair dues, braves the challenge of supporting the unlikely returned heroes, and does very well too, getting the hall in form for the near-sold out gig at the Point. If it’s been over a decade since we’ve seen the Pogues play together, it doesn’t sound that way tonight.
Having finally come to an agreement with the Irish Music Rights Organisation, Apple made the European version of the iTunes Music Store available yesterday in Ireland.
Rum saw the first flowering of Shane MacGowan as a unique and brilliant song-poet, unafraid to speak the unspeakable but also capable of magnificent vocal interpretations of songs like Ewan McColl’s ‘Dirty Old Town’.
After a period of restless inactivity, The Pogues went into Rak Studio with U2 knob-twiddler Steve Lillywhite. The result is arguably The Pogues’ most eclectic work.
It’s Christmas in the drunk tank and The Pogues have reformed, featuring the classic line-up of Shane MacGowan, Jem Finer, Darryl Hunt, Philip Chevron, Terry Woods, Spider Stacey, Andrew Rankin and James Fearnley. Who wouldn’t raise a glass to this momentous occasion?
*No artist is ever morbid. The artist can express everything.* - Oscar Wilde, preface to The Picture Of Dorian Gray (1891)
*Life's a bitch, then you die. Black hell.* - Shane McGowan Hell's Ditch (1990).
Till now, Pogues' compliments have invariably centred on Shane MacGowan's singular songwriting. The group's erratic performances which could descend into some ramshackle acoustic heart of darkness meant the praise wasn't always extended to his fellows.
