TheBanyanTree: Let's Go Murphys!

[Mike Pingleton]

"The Dropkick Murphys are coming to the Canopy Club, but Chuck has to
work," Ann said.  The Murphys are her favorite band.

"I'll go!" Molly raised her hand.  "I'll go!  Pick me!"

"You can't go, you gotta be eighteen."

"I'll go with you," I said.  I knew the Murphys a little bit - punk is
not my cup of tea, but I like nearly all Irish-Celtic music, from the
Chieftains to Flogging Molly and everything in between.  Heck yeah,
why not?

So my daughter and I went to see the Dropkick Murphys on Friday night.
 We shuffled along in the cold line that snaked around the corner from
the Canopy Club, waiting our turn to get inside.  The club is in the
heart of campus, but the line wasn't composed of college kids; these
were working class heroes, and a lot of them were in their twenties
and thirties.  Many appeared to be from out of town; the couple ahead
of us were from Missouri, and as it turned out, a lot of folks from
Boston were following the band around the country.  There were a lot
of spiky, colorful mohawks, and a lot of kilts, and a number of guys
sporting both.  I didn't see many dudes in my decade; those of us over
fifty wouldn't have filled a small leaky rowboat.

Once inside, we elected to beer up and hit the tshirt table first.
The club is an old movie theatre, and the only seats left are those up
in the rear balcony.  We picked a spot along the wall on the open,
sloping floor and checked out the crowd while sipping our beers and
waiting for the show to start.

The leader of the first band was a little English guy with a big raw
voice.  He screamed 'oi' and 'cheers!' a lot, which I sort of
expected.  They got a good reaction from the crowd, and got people
worked up a bit.  The second band was from Los Angeles.  They were a
little too smooth and polished; the two singers wore spiffy like-new
leather vests, and all of their movements seemed choreographed.  One
of the leads had some moves that put me in mind of PeeWee Herman.  The
crowd didn't seem too impressed by this pack of west coast posers, and
by now everyone was ready for the Murphys.

By the end of the second act, the Canopy Club was jammed, and eight
hundred souls raised fists in the air and chanted "let's go Murphys!"
over and over.  When it's standing room only, everyone needs to be in
the same tolerant mindset, and our little knot of humanity along the
wall was getting along famously, trading names and sharing beer from
pitchers.

Here came the Dropkick Murphys, seven displaced Sons of Mil by way of
Boston, playing bagpipes, tin whistles, accordion and banjo along with
the standard punk band guitars and drums. It was beyond loud, each
thump of the tom-tom a punch to the heart.  Ann and I jumped and
screamed along with everyone else.

In the middle of it all some small part of my brain was still busy
processing the moment.  In a short space of time it became clear to me
where the difference lay between the Murphys and the two bands that
played before them.  Every song was an anthem, with common themes that
spoke to this crowd:  we stand together, we fight together, we take
care of our own.  Far from our ancient home, we play the instruments
of those who came before us; our music may sound different, but the
themes are as old as humankind.  This was tribal music, and as I
watched my daughter punching her fist in the air, it occured to me
that she felt a part of this tribe.  You didn't need Celtic roots to
belong, but it probably helped, and Ann had plenty from both me and
her mother.

Towards the end of the show the band invited any and all girls up on
stage for a song, and they later did the same for the males in the
crowd.  All those kids singing and standing together was more proof to
me that this was something beyond musicians serving up songs for their
fans.  This coming together isn't unique to this music or these kinds
of people, but it doesn't happen for everyone.

I got home about 1 AM, not looking forward to the long day at work
that started in five short hours.  Ever the night owl, Molly was still
up on the computer.  I tossed her a  tshirt as a consolation prize;
she'll get some cool points at school wearing that.  The next time the
Dropkick Murphys come through, she'll be old enough to go join the
tribe for a night.  I'll go too.