The Pogues Ignite MTelus with a Raucous Celebration of Shane MacGowan

Who knew Boomers could jump four inches into the air, repeatedly? Anyone caught in the ebullience of The Pogues’ high-energy set at MTelus on September 12th would have witnessed elders defying their years, pogoing, bobbing, hooting, and expressing genuine glee for a legendary band whose return to our city was highly anticipated. With a venue near capacity, the cool September weather did its part to keep the air conditioning in check, much appreciated given the colossal metabolic activity on both the floor and the stage.

Kicking things off promptly at eight was Montreal blues guitarist Shane Murphy, known in west end circles for his omnipresence in bars, clubs, and local media. Though Murphy and his trio may have had the chops, and the pedigree, to sustain attention as an opener, his brand of snake-shuffling, delta-style blues proved to be a curious choice, running counter to the type of aggressive folk-punk pioneered by The Pogues. As such, audience members could be seen milling about during his ten-song performance, while conserving energy for what they sensed was coming. It was a wise decision.

 A carefully curated set of tracks followed, transporting the crowd to 80s England during set change with impromptu sing-alongs breaking out to indelible anthems from the likes of Billy Bragg and the Clash.  The soundtrack appeared to work its magic, imbuing listeners with that distinctly rebuffed era of Thatcherism, while paying homage to a British scene firmly in keeping with The Pogues’ countercultural roots. A simple backdrop of a cantered ship in a bottle brilliantly summed up the band's ethos, turning microcosmic traditions on their head as they plowed forthright, creating new rules, consequences be damned.

With the stage becoming a litter of mandolins, banjos, drum kits, horns and keys, sensations were heightened without a note being played. By the time The Pogues launched into fiery opener ‘The Sick Bed of Cuchulainn’, the crowd was reeling – tempered, even - as they absorbed the sixteen members pulling out all stops. With core original members Spider Stacey on tin flute, James Fearnley on accordion, and the great Jem Finer alternating between banjo and hurdy gurdy duties, the stage was populated with a who’s who of Irish and British musical talent. Among the many worth singling out were Bad Seeds drummer James Sclavunos on drums, Glasgow harp player/vocalist Iona Zajac, and the ever-steadfast uilleann piper/flutist Fiachra Meek, whose support on the tin flute gave Stacey reprieve, allowing him to allot much-needed lung power to his main vocal duties. 

 With a rat-a-tat onslaught of spirited jigs and amped folk music, The Pogues are famed for, the audience took several songs to fully immerse themselves in the joyous cacophony the collective was peddling. Then, suddenly, an about face: Beer suddenly flew, and bodies floated as a human sea permitted itself to give in to the vigour. Henceforth, the Montreal crowd, as it’s famous for, didn’t disappoint, giving Stacey much to play into throughout the rest of the performance. Drawn-out periods for arrangement of the Byzantine musical setups allowed the charismatic front man to practice his French, gently provoke, and otherwise banter with his bandmates, keeping energies at a high as the throng stomped and shouted ‘Ole, Ole, Ole’.  Special mention goes to the road crew, whose unenviable task of navigating the clutter of mikes, instruments, and bodies to assure seamless transitions was commendable.   

Not so much a set as a last waltz, members took turns memorializing such Pogues gems as ‘And the Band Played Waltzing Matilda’, and ‘A Pair of Brown Eyes’. Zajac and wonderful Irish singer Lisa O’Neill brought a particularly inspired vocal presence to ‘London Girl’, with Stacey at his matinee-idol coolest, delivering the goods in a boogie no doubt honouring their musical forebearers.     

Though the tour was billed as a 40th anniversary tribute to their trailblazing record ‘Rum, Sodomy, and the Lash,’ really, it was a celebration of frontman and principal songwriter Shane MacGowan, who we lost less than two years ago. With his absence particularly noticeable on such gems as ‘Rainy Night in Soho’ and ‘The Old Main Drag’, it was only midway through their set that the band acknowledged his demise, dedicating the traditional song ‘The Parting Glass’ in his honour – a piece they famously performed at his funeral. Though reference to MacGowan may not have been overt, it was clear his spirit drove the proceedings, with members bringing personal flair and integrity to songs closely associated with his signature growl.

The Pogues finished their last of five punchy encores in dramatic fashion, plunging into high-tempo favourites ‘Streams of Whiskey’, and ‘Sally McLennane’. The crowd - doused, soused, and full of frenzy – were left buzzing, ready to take the rest of the night on like rowdy pirates casting off to sea, certainly the way The Pogues intended it and no doubt a sentiment MacGowan would raise a glass to.   

Donald is the host of Eastern Promises, an exploration of the music of Eastern Canada, on air every other Sunday from 8-9pm