The Pogues * * *
at the NIA Arena
Review by Jayne Howarth
The Pogues’ Christmas tour is rapidly becoming as traditional as turkey and the trimmings.
The ultimate antidote to finger-in-the-ear nasal folk songs, the band has a reputation as being one of the bands to see live, but their once-a-year outing, much anticipated by all fans, is, however, a bitter-sweet experience.
It is easy to bandy the word "genius" to songwriters, but to charismatic Shane MacGowan, the stumbling and incoherent frontman whose diet consists of booze, fags and expletives, the term can be applied without risk of ridicule.
He may cut a slightly shambolic figure when he’s standing on stage, clutching the microphone stand for dear life and swigging his endless supply of booze, but somehow the instinct to sing his rabble-rousing songs, a perfect blend of Irish folk and punk, fights to the fore and the energy of the wild Irish soul returns for a few minutes.
There are hard-nosed songs about love, sung with equal amounts of aggression and love, drinking songs, poignant lyrics with any soppiness sharply countered by the sheer rawness of the music and delivery.
While MacGowan might grab all the attention, there are seven more members of the band who deserve plaudits for their pure musicianship.
Their high energy thrashing of concertina, mandola, banjo and penny whistle ensures the whole is bigger than the sum of its parts.
However, no one really needs to navel gaze when contemplating The Pogues: they are simply a party. Peerless renditions of all the old classics, including Sally MacLennane, The Sickbed of Cuchulainn, Dirty Old Town, Boys From the County Hell and A Pair of Brown Eyes brought the crowd – all ages from youngsters to foot-tapping pensioners – to their feet, while the tear-pricking Fairytale of New York, quite rightly voted the best Christmas song ever, and spirited Fiesta were the perfect finale songs.
