CD Odyssey Disc 1023: The Pogues

Happy Belated Canada Day! I’ve had a lovely weekend so far, meeting up with an old friend, hanging with my lovely wife, playing some Ultimate and (of course) adding to my music collection. Here are some albums you can expect to hear about in the months and years ahead:

• Three Secret Sisters albums: their self-titled debut, “Put Your Needle Down” and “You Don’t Own Me Anymore”
• Joan Shelley’s “Electric Ursa” and “Over and Even”
• K. Flay, “Everywhere is Somewhere”
• Dawes, “Nothing is Wrong”
• Great Big Sea, “The Hard and the Easy”
• Warren Zevon, “Wanted Dead or Alive”
• Portugal. The Man, “Woodstock”

OK, from albums I’m just discovering to one that has been in my collection for a very long time.

Disc 1023 is…Rum, Sodomy & the Lash

Artist: The Pogues

Year of Release: 1985

What’s up with the Cover? A take on 19^th century artist Theodore Gericault’s famous painting, “The Raft of the Medusa,” except with members of the Pogues edited in. I’ve seen the original painting in the Louvre and it was a moving experience, immersing you in the anguish and dread of the shipwrecked crew. The Pogues would later write a song about the event on their 1990 album “Hell’s Ditch”.

Whether having the Pogues on the raft would have prevented any of the starvation and cannibalism that occurred is unlikely, but at least the music would have been better while you waited around to die.

How I Came To Know It: I knew a couple of Pogues songs from the radio, and I owned “If I Should Fall From Grace with God,” but this particular album was introduced to me by my friend Tony one weekend long ago when I was visiting him in Vancouver.

How It Stacks Up:  I have five Pogues’ albums (basically everything they did with Shane MacGowan in the band) and I like them all, but “Rum, Sodomy & the Lash” is the best of them all. Since this is the last Pogues album in my collection, here is a full recap:

1. Rum, Sodomy & the Lash: 5 stars (reviewed right here)
2. If I Should Fall From Grace with God: 4 stars (reviewed at Disc 451)
3. Red Roses for Me: 4 stars (reviewed at Disc 835)
4. Hell’s Ditch: 4 stars (reviewed at Disc 798)
5. Peace and Love: 3 stars (reviewed at Disc 121)

Ratings: 5 stars

“Rum, Sodomy & the Lash” is a traditional Irish folk album, infused with the rebellious energy of rock and roll. It is a bleak examination of regret and loss which nevertheless inspires your soul by virtue of its unflinchingly honesty.

Roughly half the songs are traditional folk songs, arranged by the Pogues, and the other half are Shane MacGowan originals. These originals stand shoulder to shoulder with some of folk music’s great standards and give away no advantage.

Shane MacGowan is a troubled genius, and he was never more troubled or brilliant than he was on this record. The opening two tracks, “The Sick Bed of Cuchulainn” and “The Old Main Drag” explore the underbelly of alcoholism and violence. “Sick Bed of Cuchulainn” gives the knife an extra twist, naming itself after Celtic legend’s greatest hero, and then featuring such non-heroic actions as pissing yourself, catching syphilis and vomiting in a church. All of it is done to a rollicking tune that captures the manic celebration of someone determined to hit rock bottom as quickly as possible.

On “the Old Main Drag” the main character gives blow jobs in alleys for a five dollar bill, all so he can have one more pint at the local pub. These are Irish drinking stories where the song doesn’t end with everyone having a rollicking good time, but instead bleed into the next day, where we find our heroes lying beaten and hung over in the street, waiting to die.

Why the hell would anyone want to listen to stories like these? Because when they are done this beautifully you can’t look away. These are the stories of the street without the filter of propriety. This is what goes on in those alleys you wisely don’t go down after dark. “Rum, Sodomy & the Lash” walks you down there, and tapes your eyes open, “Clockwork Orange” style, to make sure you don’t miss anything.

The playing on the album is exceptional, with every member of the band (and there are a lot) at the top of their game. The songs roll smooth and easy, including two instrumentals (“Wild Cats of Kilkenny” and “A Pistol for Paddy Garcia”) that let you focus exclusively on just how good they are. Both songs are original compositions that mix Irish reels and sea shanties with the mystery of old west trail songs, and play the mixture with the same furious intensity you’d find on a metal album.

MacGowan’s vocals are thick and powerful, and he spits out these tales of woe with the veritas of a man who lives hard and unhealthy. “A Pair of Brown Eyes” opens with:

“One summer evening, drunk to hell

I sat there nearly lifeless”

And MacGowan sings it in a matter-of-fact resignation that tells you it’s nothing new to him. On later records, MacGowan’s slur gets a bit out of hand and he’s hard to understand, but on “Rum, Sodomy & the Lash” his deliver is the perfect mix of drunken bravado and artistic precision. It seems like he’s always about to fall off the beat, but he never does, holding just to the back of it; the perfect counterpoint to the energetic playing of his band mates.

Bassist Cait O’Riordan was still with the band at this point (she left after this record), and provides a brief counterpoint to MacGowan’s bawl with a delightful rendition of “I’m a Man You Don’t Meet Every Day.” I know MacGowan is the star of the show, but I’ve always missed the presence of O’Riordan on later Pogues’ records.

On other records I have John McDermott singing “the Band Played Waltzing Matilda” and the Irish Descendants singing “Dirty Old Town” and thought they were good, but once I heard the Pogues’ do them on “Rum, Sodomy & the Lash” other versions sound thin and false.

This album has been a big part of my life, and despite having played it hundreds of times, I never tire of it. In fact, every time I’m about to go on holiday (and sometimes when I’m just heading into a weekend) I sing a few lines from “Sally MacLennane”:

“I’m sad to say, I must be on my way

So buy me beer and whiskey ‘cause I’m going far away.

I’d like to think I’ll be returning when I can

To the greatest little boozer and to Sally MacLennane”

And while that’s just me excited to have some time off, it is as good a metaphor for how I feel about the record as well. No matter how far away I go, “Rum, Sodomy & the Lash” is my Sally MacLennane – a great and tragic love I’ll always come back to.

Best tracks: All tracks

CD Odyssey Disc 835: The Pogues

I’m feeling a little worn out, which isn’t a good sign given that it’s Monday. This too, shall pass. In the meantime there’s music!

Disc 835 is….Red Roses for Me

Artist: The Pogues

Year of Release: 1984

What’s up with the Cover? All the Pogues gathered around the portrait of John F. Kennedy. It is unclear what instrument Kennedy played in the band, but given when this album came out I’m going to assume it was the harp.

How I Came To Know It: I love the Pogues. I’ve delved into all their albums that feature original lead singer Shane MacGowan since my friend Anthony put me onto them over two decades ago. “Red Roses for Me” is just me digging through their collection.

How It Stacks Up:  I have five Pogues albums and they are all good. So good in fact that the amazing “Red Roses for Me” managed to displace “Hell’s Ditch” for third place, only three months after I reviewed it.

Ratings: 4 stars

More than any other Pogues album “Red Roses for Me” is full-on folk music, yet because of the ferocity in which these guys lay down a song you can’t help but feel it is a bit punk as well.

What isn’t punk about the Pogues is their musical precision. For music that so perfectly evokes drunken Irish louts, the timing is exceptional. Rolling songs that barely leave time to take a breath,  like “Down in the Ground Where the Deadmen Go,” still stay perfectly in the pocket from beginning to end. Even the screams and moans come in and out of the arrangement at just the right time.

I love the rolling rhythms of all the songs on this album. They make you feel like you are standing on the pitching deck of a ship, feeling every roll of the waves, and yet the swing of music keeps you on your feet, confident and loose.

Despite all this timing perfection, the Pogues never feel stale or overly rehearsed. If it is a furiously fast song like “Down in the Ground…” or “Waxie’s Dargle” or slow and mournful ballads like “The Auld Triangle” and “Kitty” these guys infuse every note with meaning. Sometimes that meaning is the raving of a drunken bawling lowlife, and other times it is the melancholy air of regret (often by the same lowlife: one imagines in the sober morning after).

These are songs about the down and out, often involving trying to scrape together enough money to afford a pint or (better yet) a whiskey. In the case of “Boys From County Hell” it is about not being able to even afford your rent, and instead giving the stingy landlord a vengeful beating:

“I recall we took care of him one Sunday

We got him out the back and we broke his fucking balls

And maybe that was dreaming and maybe that was real

But all I know is I left that place without a penny or fuck all”

My favourite song on the album is “The Auld Triangle.” Even though it is a song that dates back to the fifties, this timeless tale of incarceration and longing never gets old, and I’ve never heard anyone do it better than the Pogues do it here.

The album has thirteen tracks, and half of them are covers or traditional folk songs, but just like “The Auld Triangle” the Pogues infuse them with a modern punk energy. More impressive, the original compositions (all written by singer Shane MacGowan) feel as timeless and classic as any of the standards.

Old songs and new alike, MacGowan’s voice drips with the aimless fury of misspent youth and broken dreams. He steps with equal grace into the shoes of whalers on the high seas, fugitives bidding farewell to their lovers and drunks wandering penniless through the streets of London. At every step he and the band are in perfect sync; even when they’re loose in their stays, they’re loose to the same degree.

Despite only giving this album 4 stars, I don’t have anything bad to say about “Red Roses for Me.” This is a classic record that thirty years after it was released sounds as fresh and easy as the day it came out.

Best tracks:  The Auld Triangle, Waxie’s Dargle, Boys From the County Hell, Sea Shanty, Dark Streets of London, Streams of Whiskey, Kitty

CD Odyssey Disc 798: The Pogues

My last review for Little Feat happened coincidentally when we were doing something social with the friend that introduced them to me. This time, my friends Anthony and Laura were over from Vancouver with their family right at the same time as I rolled a band that Anthony inspired me to delve into years ago. As the Police would say – synchronicity!

Disc 798 is….Hell’s Ditch

Artist: The Pogues

Year of Release: 1990

What’s up with the Cover? It’s the song titles put into ‘old pirate treasure map’ format. Modern maps may be more efficient but they are way less fun. I’d like to be able to set a car’s GPS to “old pirate treasure map’ mode. “Ar…at the sign of sea monster bring ‘er hard about, then proceed 24 cable lengths to your port of call!”

How I Came To Know It: I always liked the Pogues, but it was my friend Anthony who inspired me to dig into their collection. I think I bought this album back in the mid-nineties at the same time as “Peace and Love” (reviewed way back at Disc 121).

How It Stacks Up:  I have five Pogues albums, which is all the ones featuring Shane MacGowan. Of the five, I’ll put “Hell’s Ditch” a solid third.

Ratings: 4 stars

“Hell’s Ditch” is the last Pogues album to feature Shane MacGowan, and not coincidentally the last Pogues album I bought. Say what you will about how drunk MacGowan was getting at the time, he went out on top with “Hell’s Ditch.”

Here MacGowan’s voice still has all the raw and visceral energy that gives the Pogues their punk edge. His slurring style goes a bit overboard on “Hell’s Ditch” and at times interferes with my ability to understand what he’s singing about. This is the one small criticism I have for this album. Without this small fault it could easily rival 1988’s “If I Should Fall From the Grace of God” for second best Pogues album – the songs are that good.

The album initially feels lighter than earlier Pogues efforts musically, and has a trilling quality in the penny whistle and mandolin that made me think of fair seas and following winds. If not overtly nautical, most of the songs have a quality of travel, and you can tell the Pogues have now seen the world and been inspired to expand their sound accordingly.

The album opens with “Sunnyside of the Street” which is an upbeat tune that nevertheless finds time to mention children without shoes and bodies in the street. This is a song about finding the positives in life after escaping the horror of past experience, but there is also a twinge of unhealthy denial wrapped through the lyrics. “Sayonara” quickly follows on the same theme, and as I write this on Remembrance Day I have the impression of an old war vet trying to forget the past by sailing away somewhere warm. You quickly realize that all those fair winds and following seas aren’t so fair after all under the surface. Staying positive can be a test for those that have witnessed the worst of what our species is capable of.

The nautical theme returns on the second half of the album, with “The Wake of the Medusa.” This is simultaneously a thrilling tale of the famous wreck, an admiration of the painting that inspired the song (Theodore Gericault’s “Raft of the Medusa”), and a moving indictment of the rich and powerful cutting the poor and dispossessed adrift in society. I’m fortunate enough to have seen the original painting at the Louvre and it is both beautiful and haunting (check it out here). It takes those fair winds and following seas I felt early in the record and whips them into a tempest.

“House of the Gods” immediately follows “Wake of the Medusa” and lightens the mood with a song about relaxing with a beer on Pataya Beach in Thailand. On an album full of vacation songs, it feels like the first one that doesn’t have a dark underbelly.

Here’s a funny and embarrassing moment: for years I thought MacGowan was singing “Singha beer don’t ask no questions/Singha beer don’t tell no lies” but somewhere along the way I convinced myself (or Sheila convinced me) that I had been wrong all those years, and that it was just MacGowan slurring “sea of green don’t ask no questions,” etc.

So last Sunday while out drinking some Singha beer with my aforementioned friend Anthony I related how the song had nothing to do with Singha beer. He was surprised, but not as surprised as me when I got home and checked the CD jacket sleeve to find…it had been “Singha beer” all along!

Oops. It would seem the ‘wally’ MacGowan sings about in the song is me.

The album feels packed with traditional folk songs, but that is only because they are so well written you assume they are old classics. The only traditional folk song comes near the end of the album, with the instrumental “Maidrin Rua.” It is a pretty little song, but the sea shanty “Six To Go” which follows it to end the record is better, and a Pogues original.

“Hell’s Ditch” is only 13 songs and 41 minutes long, and many of the songs are well short of three minutes. Despite this, they never feel rushed. The band has an innate feel of how to advance a musical theme at a good clip without ever jumping ahead too quickly.

The effect left me wanting more. So much so that a few years back I bought the remastered version of this record which had seven extra tracks. The tracks were OK, but the remastering made no noticeable improvement to Joe Strummer’s excellent 1990 production and the album now felt too long with the bonus material. I sold it and went back to the original recording. You just don’t mess with perfection.

Best tracks: The Sunnyside of the Street, Sayonara, the Ghost of a Smile, Hell’s Ditch, Rain Street, The Wake of the Medusa, Six to Go

CD Odyssey Disc 451: The Pogues

I really wanted to get this next review written Thursday, but after work, a workout and then some volunteer activity I was knackered, and opted instead for sharing a bottle of wine with Sheila. 

Then I was going to write it Friday night, but got dragged out (willingly) with some coworkers to the pub and once again was in no condition to write creatively.  Contrary to popular depictions of writers scripting their masterpieces while hammered, the truth is you will generally write very poorly if you’ve been drinking.

Now it is Saturday morning and fresh from a shower I think I’m finally ready to put fingers to keyboards before life comes along and tempts me to join in again.

Disc 451 is… If I Should Fall From Grace With God

Artist: The Pogues

Year of Release: 1988

What’s up with the Cover?  The band’s faces pasted into a repeating photo of…some forties guy?  I don’t get this photo.  Whatever is going on it is amazing this is not a ska band.  After all, there are nine of them, which I believe is the average for ska.

How I Came To Know It:  I think like most people who bought this record it was because I heard “Fairytale of New York.”  Great as that song is, I’m even happier that it helped introduce me to the Pogues as a band.

How It Stacks Up:  I have five Pogues albums, which is all of the ones that feature Shane McGowan on vocals.  All are excellent in their own way, but since this section is how it stacks up, let’s not equivocate – I’ll put “If I Should Fall…” second.

Rating:  4 stars

I’ve owned “If I Should Fall From Grace With God” for about as long as I’ve owned a CD player, and it has been played again and again over the past twenty five years.  When you’ve had an album a long time it is hard to separate it from your life to the point where you can just discuss the music.

The record was in heavy rotation in the early nineties, when it was one of the few records that my roommate Greg and I both liked.  We are both music lovers, but in the day he liked alternative rock, and I liked folk.  The Pogues sufficiently bridged that gap that it was acceptable to both of us.  Any album that made it into the thin overlap in our Venn diagram of music we both liked was in elite company, and got heavy play around the house.

This is also the album that introduced the Pogues to a larger audience after they had two albums that most people (including me) missed.  I have since come to love those first two albums as much or more as this one, but more on that when I randomly roll them.

“If I Should Fall…” is the most up-tempo of the five Pogues albums I own, with may a rollicking song featuring drinking, carousing and all manner of low-brow entertainment.  Horsetracks are attended, pints are quaffed and quarrelling couples are thrown in the hoosegow to sober up.  It is devilish good fun.

The song about the aforementioned couple, “Fairytale of New York” has gone on to be far and away the Pogues most recognizable song, and a huge hit.  I love it in the same heart-warming but disturbed way I like to watch “Bad Santa” every Christmas.  Of course I like an idyllic stress free Christmas as much as the next guy but artistic depictions of that kind of thing are painfully boring.  “Fairytale of New York” is a duet between Shane MacGowan and guest vocalist Kristy MacColl.  While the words are cause for humour they are also deeply tragic, as they hurl not only all manner of generic insults at one another, but also all the hurtful truths only a long-term partner can draw on.

The record being at least partly folk music, the Pogues include a few traditional numbers, such as the sea shanty “South Australia” and an Irish walking medley, tastefully titled “Medley.”  Also included is a self-indulgent remake of “Worms” – you know, “the worms crawl in, the worms crawl out,” etc.  It is only a minute long but it is an unnecessary minute, and moreover it added a fifteenth song to the record, which is one more than what I consider reasonable.

The best tracks, however, are Pogues originals.  The band composes music that sounds like punkified folk classics, but are actually modern songs that lean heavily on folk traditions and forms.  If the Clash were a punk band that wished they were playing reggae, then the Pogues are the folk equivalent.  The music is fast, furious and filled with a wide array of instrumentation but never sounds busy, just energetic.  Many heavier bands have tried to do less and still ended up with mud.  To play these songs you have to be tight, and know your instruments.

My favourite song from the day I bought this album is “Turkish Song of the Damned” with its eastern rhythms mixed in with MacGowan’s trademark tortured bawl.  It is a song of shipwreck, and a terrible haunting that follows.  The lyrics set the tone from the outset:

“I come old friend from hell tonight

Across the rotting sea

Nor the nails of the Cross

Nor the blood of Christ

Can bring you help this eve.”

It reads like a Dore wood carving looks and it sounds like every bit the dread curse that it is.

Other songs feature more political topics, as the Pogues take on tough political topics.  In “Streets of Sorrow/Birmingham Six” MacGowan’s voice contains a passionate fury as he tells the conviction of six Irishmen for the Birmingham pub bombings in 1975, who would later be acquitted and compensated for wrongful imprisonment.  That wouldn’t happen until 1991, so in 1988 this song was both timely and politically charged, not least because of the controversy that has always swirled around the case.

Lest you think of the Pogues as one-dimensional Irish apologists, the very next song is

“Lullaby of London” a slow and forgiving track where MacGowan’s deep love for the city and the Thames flowing through it come to the fore.  This is a song about a drunken walk home from the pub, but it is so much more than that.  It is the heavy thinking that can descend on a man during that long walk, and how the most important of those thoughts will still lay on you the next morning.  It ends with lines that are almost a prayer:

“May the wind that blows from haunted graves

Never bring you misery

May the angels bright

Watch you tonight

And keep you while you sleep.”

And one song later, across the Irish Sea, MacGowan waxes poetic about another river with “The Broad Majestic Shannon” showing that if you’re feeling thoughtful and melancholy there are few better places to let it wash over you than at the edge of a river.  This song ends with a similar expression of goodwill and tearful reminiscing:

“I sat for a while by a gap in the wall

Found a rusty tin can and an old hurley ball

Heard the cards being dealt, and the rosary called

And a fiddle playing Sean Dun na nGall

And the next time I see you we’ll be down at the Greeks

There’ll be whiskey on Sunday and tears on our cheeks

For its stupid to laugh and its useless to blame

About a rusty tin can and an old hurley ball.

“So I walked as day was dawning

Where small birds sang and leaves were falling

Where we once watched the row boats landing

By the broad majestic Shannon.”

MacGowan falls silent and the final bar is just the fiddle track rolling to a beautiful stop, drawing your attention to why you’ve been feeling wistful throughout (a slow fiddle played prettily can do this).  If the record had ended right here, I might have been tempted to give it five stars, but it is just a hair too long, and so it comes close, but falls just short.

Best tracks:  If I Should Fall From Grace With God, Turkish Song of the Damned, Bottle of Smoke, Fairytale of New York, Streets of Sorrow/Birmingham Six, Lullaby of London, The Broad Majestic Shannon.

CD Odyssey Disc 121: The Pogues

The B is for Bictory.

OK, that may not mean anything to you, but what matters here is that the Boston Bruins are through to round 2.

Now to the music review.

Disc 121 is...Peace and Love
Artist: The Pogues

Year of Release: 1989

How I Came To Know It: This was the last Pogues album I bought, purchased because it was the last album with Shane MacGowan singing that I didn't have. My deep love of the Pogues was inspired by my friend, Tony, who played "Rum, Sodomy and the Lash" for me one night over beers.

How It Stacks Up: I have five Pogues albums, which I believe are all the Shane MacGowan ones. I have no real interest in the others at this point. Of those five, I'd put this one last, but don't let that fool you - it is still a good album.

Rating: 3 stars.

I always think of "Peace and Love" as the last Pogues album with MacGowan, but in preparing for this review, I see that their last record is actually "Hell's Ditch." That makes sense stylistically, as "Peace and Love" has a very similar sound to the album that preceded it, "If I Should Fall From The Grace of God."

There are a number of songs on "Peace and Love" where I found myself wishing they had been sung by MacGowan. I believe by this time he was deep into alcoholism and binge drinking like mad. I suppose this contributed to his lesser role on the record (as you probably know, he was soon to be kicked out of the band).

This puts Shane in some rare company alongside Dave Mustaine, so hammered he was kicked out of Metallica, and Ozzie Osbourne, so wasted he was kicked out of Black Sabbath. People who think that these latter gents are somehow more hard core than MacGowan don't have an appreciation for the kind of partying folk/rock bands can lay on. MacGowan is every bit their drunken equal.

Fortunately, just like Mustaine and Osbourne, MacGowan survived, and has made some great follow up music since with his band, The Popes. But I'll talk about that when I roll it.

Back to the music, if I have any criticism of "Peace and Love" it is that in places the arrangements get a little too busy. There is just too much going on at the same time - it could have done more with less.

That said, there are some real gems.

I particularly like "Young Ned of the Hill" which is a song about Oliver Cromwell's conquering of Ireland in 1649. As loyal Irishmen, the Pogues are predictably not impressed:

"A curse upon you Oliver Cromwell
You who raped our Motherland
I hope you're rotting down in hell
For the horrors that you sent
To our misfortunate forefathers
Whom you robbed of their birthright
"To hell or Connaught" may you burn in hell tonight."

I've never been a fan of Cromwell for a whole host of reasons - most notably that he puritanically closed the theatres in England when he took power. Oh yeah - on that subject, he also chopped the head off the lawful King of England and (as noted above) invaded Ireland, during which there was more than one massacre. What a jerk!

I also really love "Down All The Days" which is a song about the life of a drunk writer (let's call him 'Shane') and a beautiful homage to the City of London, in all its facets, titled "London You're a Lady". Here's a taste:

"Your architects were madmen
Your builders sane but drunk
And among your faded jewels
Shine acid house and punk."

This line, and the rest in this song (memorable for both verse and tune) is vintage MacGowan - still creating works of beauty even while seriously drunk.

No one writes a drunken binge like MacGowan - I don't think anyone is even close. I think as I review each Pogues album I'll find at least one good drunken binge line. Here's this review's selection (from "Boat Train"):

"I had a couple drinks in town
A few more at the port
I puked up on the gangway
But some kind folks helped me board
They helped me to a table
Poured whiskey down my throat
They sat me at a table
And I lost my watch and coat."

If you like the Pogues, I would say this would be the last of their first five albums to get, but don't take that the wrong way - you should get it anyway.

Best tracks: Young Ned of the Hill, Down All The Days, Lorelei, Boat Train, London You're A Lady