The Dropkick Murphy's, The Ducky Boys, Ferenzal Rhomb, Sunday, March 17, 2002, St Patrcik's Day, Avalon Ballroom, Boston

What better place than Lansdowne Street, Boston Massachusetts can an Irish American celebrate the Hallmark Holiday of our Heritage? They just started celebrating in Ireland, they don't let gay's march in NYC, and Boston is better than New York anyway 'cause they got more Irish per capita and Ted Kennedy, and the Dropkick Murphy's so fuck anyplace else. If you've got a Notre Dame sweatshirt, or a fighting Irish tattoo, you can come along.

Sorry about that. The DKM's St. Pats show is really something special. Its not as old a tradition as the Throwdown, or the Payback, but they've played those along the way. They've gotten through many personnel changes and they still rock "Skinhead on the MBTA." The bagpipe and the gruff vocals are standard, and you can sing along if you know the words. This was the second consecutive St. Pat's hometown gig they've done up and it was a blast.

This year the DKM's ended up booking three nights to get through the demand. Epitaph records send a five camera team to capture it for film, and it will be a DVD in stores by summer. Now you can have St. Pat's anytime you want. They had a bunch of bands play, Kay Hanley came by for a song that they did for a split, and the Boston Police Fife & Drum corps, or whatever brigade showed up one evening for the opener.

My good buddy, Matt and I went to the show this year. Keep it down, but St. Pats may or may not be Matt's birthday. It seems to embarrass him. He's half Irish, half Portuguese, so it guess we know which half is embarrassed. There's a photo of the tow of us here that we had the nice bartender lady take. I look like a schmuck, but at least I don't look fucking smashed.

We missed the Frenzal Rhomb, or I missed most of it getting my photo pass together.

While waiting I saw Lenny from Darkbuster and his fine lady friend getting backstage for some drinking. I don't know if he's working on anything, but I hope he does soon.

The Ducky Boys reunited for this show, that's how special it is to be in Boston for St. Pats. Fuck you if you don't know them, they rule. They busted out all my favorites like, "These Are the Days," and "I'll Rise Up." And they rocked. I miss them, and so did the big pit that formed.

It was like seeing an old friend, even when they did, "Stand By Me," and "Knowledge." God bless the Ducky Boys.

God Bless the Dropkick Murphy's too. They took control and pounded out the songs for the holiday. Spicy played his pipes, and the Al Barr gruffed his way through song after song. Casey held up a Dropkick street sign for the renaming of Lansdowne St for the day. We sang, we threw beer, we oggled the girlies and thanked God there wasn't any cabbage cooking in the kitchen. By the time they got to the Boston must play, "Dirty Water," we'd celebrated dear old St. Patrick and watched a guy propose on stage. (she said yes.)

Most of the set was newer material, but they did do some covers. I think that they dipped into, "Amazing Grace," just because its fun to watch the kids most to a song played at many a grandfather, or cops funeral.

I can't go to an Irish funeral without having to stifle a fist pump or two during Amazing Grace thanks to the DKM's.

The Boston Herald panned these shows, calling the DKM's unoriginal. Fuck them. The DKM's might be a little derivative, but they do what they do with total heart. Irish punk with working class lyrics might not be original, but in today's market these guys deserve some real credit. Next year I'm going looking for the Herald reporter and make sure he says something nice. I'll nark him out to the guys in the pit and let them teach him some respect.

This show is a real blast. Another Boston throwdown where you can let loose, sing, dance and tie on a healthy buzz before heading out looking for the sausage guy. He charges a bundle, but those fuckers will save you from a DUI from the Massachusetts State Police. One sobers a normal sized guy, in my experience. Matt and I will be at the bar, right side, close to the front, pinned against the bar and sloppy drunk. If you see the Herald guy you know what to do.