A Quiet Night with Dropkick Murphys

For many years now the Boston Irish Oi! Punk outfit Dropkick Murphys have been affiliated with this Page. From the earliest of days, back when updates occured from a dorm room on the 17th floor of John Adams tower at UMass-Amherst, DKM have had their influence on CC.C. KSK Jason "Meat" Donlin brought the band to our collective knowledge by his incessant name-dropping as far back as 1999. After writing an entire article on a roadtrip to a show, he went so far as to name DKM as the "Official Band of the Page O'Goodness" in one of his articles. Finally, after he had sent me most of their albums over the internet, I finally delved in and was immediately welcomed by the strains of adrenaline-charged Irish badocity. From one night in downtown Binghamton to one not-trip to Boston, DKM was there.

And now they were performing in Albany on February 8, 2004.

After hyping the event for many weeks prior, the Sunday in question was in the dire midst of one of the finest "benders" of all-time. From Thursday before to this point, extremely good happenings had been... well, happening. After purchasing the essentials:

-one 12 pack Killian's Irish Red
-one 12 pack Yuengling Black and Tan
-one handle Jim Beam
-one large bag chips
-one cooler

...we mounted up into Geoff's mom Fake Sokker Mom Mobile (my mom Linda drives the Original Sokker Mom Mobile) for the trek to Cohoes, NY. We were slightly disappointed with the lack in our numbers, with Shannon "Winner of the 2004 'Most Irish Name' Award" Sullivan, Matt "The Don of Albany Unplugged" Bruno , Geoff "I Was Cockblocked at 80s Night by Dave Vollmer" Waltz, along with me, Josh "Johnny O'Ryan" Oryhon around for the event. We were to meet up with Griff "So Much More Than a Great Beatles Haircut" Dubois and his friend Becka (not to be confused with the character Becka from "Life Goes On").

The show was at Saratoga Winners, which can be described as a shoddy roadhouse out in the middle of nowhere. It's a mock two-story wooden structure that the Iroquois Indians probably used as a longhouse at one point in time. We parked right out front and began our tailgaiting preparations, which included trying to stay warm inside the vehicle to running across a busy four lane road to urinate among various boats and automobiles missing neccesary equipment.

We were instantly dumbfounded at the amount of mini-vans and SUVs pulling up to the Winners. Either old-school punks had grown up and traded in their mohawks for Moet champagne or there were going to be a lot of kiddies without the over-21 green wristbands (this fact became frighteningly honest later in the night). And still we tailgated on. We were asked to retreat to the car once again because "the boss was around", but they had no idea what was in our red cups, to be fair. It could have been hot cocoa.

As the line got steadily longer, we got steadily "ready" for the show. By this time, Griff and Becka had arrived and sat in the car while Bruno waited in line to snag our Will Call tickets. Around 7:30pm, the doors opened and we were among the first 50 people inside, making a bee-line for the front of the stage. We had managed to smuggle some of our own entertainment into the Winners, although 3 bucks for a beer wasn't that bad. Within a few minutes, the first act took the stage. What greeted our eyes was an Asian quartet called Brain Failure - probably the last thing we were expecting. Larry Bird had more a chance of showing up and shooting three pointers into an orange crate (believe it - that was one of my fantasies). It turns out the little fellas from the Po River could play. Apparently they could play so well Geoff went off and bought their album from the merch table.

It was during one of my frequent bathroom breaks that I spotted a father and his seven year old son with matching Murphys shirts in line for the bathroom, the son's shirt extending far past his knees. It was one of the most touching things I have ever seen. On the way back from bathroom trips, we were always helped to force our way back to the spot by one random fella with a goatee that became one of those "concert friends". He and his girlfriendwere perched right in front of the massive speaker, so I can only imagine what their hearing must feel like three days after the show.

While still digesting our General Tsao-flavored punk rock experience, a band called the Kings of Nuthin' set up on stage. Shannon was so caught up in the spirit that she declared she would have the stand up bass player's children - I think he was definitely interested. All this occured before the set even started.

Hailing from Boston, MA, the Kings of Nuthin' brought an energized set with as much adrenaline as the Murphys. Their leader had a voice similar to Dickey Barrett from the Mighty Mighty Bosstones, one that comes from too many cigarettes and too much booze-induced vomiting. The crowd was immediately in the palm of their collective hands as we digsted the Kings' brand of Psychobilly. Once again, the band was so amazing that Bruno went over and immediately bought their album.

While the stand up bass player was indeed rocking, the MVP of the Kings would have to be their piano player. Jamming out on a piano that had probably been dropped from moving vehicles at least seven times, the 88 guy was out of control. He needed no bench, choosing instead to hunch over the ivories and add pistol-precise chords to the mix. Marc Orwell (lead guitarist for the Murphys) spent the entire set on stage watching the piano player and he looked just as amazed as the rest of us. Furthermore, he played Chop Sticks when we requsted it. A total class act.

We were still obsessing over the Kings' set when the Unseen took the stage ...and none of us cared. We were front row for the Murphys which were less than a set away.

FINALLY the Unseen got off the stage and we started the obligatory "Let's Go Murphys" chants, which morphed into us leading "JoshO", "Shannon", "Syphillis" and high school student-mocking chants as well. The people around us were confused but just as enthused. As Scruffy Wallace took the stage with the bagpipes, it was apparent to all that we had reached our Mecca.

From the first strains of "Cadence to Arms", the Saratoga Winners was bedlam. Absolute chaos. The energy that the Murphys bring to the stage coupled with the unifying message of their lyrics could convert even the most stoic of concert attendees. Our friend Geoff, all 6'5" 250 pounds of him, stood as a barricade between us and the rest of the pressing masses, so we had a little nook at the front of the stage. We were right in front of Marc Orwell's spot so we were right up close for his many solos. Bassist Ken Casey would often switch sides and use Marc's mic and I think Shannon touched his leg at some point in time. Lead singer Al Barr, as is the custom at Murphys' shows, worked the stage like a side-show vendor, shoving the mic out into the crowd, never fearful of any of the fans ever forgetting the words. I personally got the mic in my face twice, and I gave the best attempt of a Boston Hardcore voice I could muster. During one of these sing-a-longs, Geoff actually held Al up from falling into the crowd. While this may seem trivial to many, it is just one of the many good reasons to attend a show like this.

The band played twelve of the songs off the recent album Blackout, filling in with older classics such as "Barroom Hero", "Caught in a Jar", "The Gang's All Here", "Fighting 69th", "Pipebomb on Lansdowne St" and the fan favorite "The Spicy McHaggis Jig". Named for the departed bagpipe player of the same name, "Jig" is when the ladies of the audience come up and join the band for a steppin' good time. Our gal Shannon was among the first to get up on stage, and she went up and planted a wet one on Scruffy's cheek after "Jig". She and the rest of the brave ladies refused to leave afterwards, instead grabbing mics and singing along with the band.

As I had predicted in the car, Stephanie Dougherty came out to sing the new classic "The Dirty Glass". I walked up to her at the merch table after the show, told her she was great and gave her pound. She looked slightly concerned at my gangbanger-wannabe handshake.

While the ladies still danced on stage, the band finished their set with "Kiss Me I'm Shitfaced" and left the stage. They reappeared a few minutes later to completely blow the roof off the Winners by breaking into "Baba O'Riley". Whether they played it for all the high school kids in attendance or they were confused by the "O'Riley" in the title, their version was incredible to behold - especially with a song so often covered. It was a shame, however, that most of the high schoolers in the audience, already way past their Sunday night curfews, didn't even know what song the band was playing. They sort of stood around with blank expressions on their face. No culture these days. The rest of us grizzled veterans assembled sang along with all our hearts.

And then, as the traditional ending to the show, "Skinhead on the MBTA" was dropped from heaven. For this one we all got on stage and commandeered all the mics along with with all the setlists, guitar picks, photos and other memorabilia we could grab.

As the lsat strains of the "Oi!s" died out, we hung out for a few on stage, shaking hands with Al Barr and Ken Casey, then Geoff and I eventually spent a few minutes talking with Ken. I knew he was a tremendous hockey fan, so I presented him with the limited edition Albany State Ice Hockey hat I had worn. He was touched by the gift and told us it would be hung in the band's practice room as he put it on.

With the crowd completely thinned out, we decided to do the same and retreat to a few cold ones in the parking lot before making our way back on the rocky road to Albany. Stories were shared, Black and Tans were consumed, asses were frozen off, high school kids were picked up by parents, "OI!s" were yelled and our night was over.

On the way back, I called Jason "Meat" Donlin to fill him in on the events. He couldn't attend the show because he had to work on Long Island, but to his credit took our stories graciously.

Now as I sit here with my tramped-on setlist adorning the wall, I look back on this fair night with continued dminished hearing. It was the perfect capper to plentiful years in Albany, but I do hope the ringing goes away soon...

Respectfully submitted,
Josh "I Was Also On Stage With The Dropkick Murphys" Oryhon