Murphys: No Rock Stars Allowed

Matt Kelly does not want to be like Limp Bizkit’s Fred Durst. The drummer for the Dropkick Murphys (the Boston-based Irish punk-rock band) spoke with me prior to a sold-out show at Avalon last Saturday about performing, stardom and “keeping it real.” “I’m probably not the best guy to interview,” he humbly warned in a Boston accent while resting his heavily tattooed arms on the table, “but I’ll try to answer intelligently.” His friendly, down-to-earth nature was reflected in the entire band when it performed to the delight of screaming, moshing and crowd-surfing fans later that night.

The Dropkick Murphys entered the punk-rock scene six years ago and have since released three albums and multiple EPs. They have toured throughout the United States, Europe and Japan. Although they have not yet entered the ranks of super-stardom, their career is headed in that direction. Their last album Sing Loud, Sing Proud was a great success, as were their recent tours. Due to popular demand, they even added a third show to this year’s St. Patrick’s Day Weekend lineup at Avalon Ballroom.

Responding to the three sold-out shows last weekend, Kelly said, “It’s great. To sell out a place like this [Avalon], even for one gig, is incredible.”

Much of the overwhelming success of the shows is due to the support of the home crowd. However, performing at home brings along its stresses, much like a family reunion. Kelly called it a “double-edged sword”: “It’s a pain in the ass playing at home, because of all your friends and relatives. There are literally 200 family members between the seven of us. It’s overwhelming. But on the reverse of that, some of your most fervent supporters are here, so it’s nice to come back and play at home.”

The seven-man band is known for its onstage magnetism. They spare no effort to get the audience involved. On Saturday, they even invited fans on stage and Ken Casey (bass, lead vocals) conducted the crowd in singing “Amazing Grace” in honor of his grandparents, who were in attendance, before breaking into the punky Murphys version of the spiritual.

When I asked what the best part of performing was for him, Kelly laughingly said, “Performing—that’s a big word. I don’t think I really perform.” The Murphys come across as a group of average guys who love music, love the crowd and just plain know how to have a good time. On stage, Casey called himself and the band “a bunch of shmucks” and went on to disparage their singing and musical abilities. It was his way of saying “We’re just a bunch of regular guys, but thank you for loving us so much.” Quality of musicianship is not the point of the Dropkick Murphys.

That is not to say that they are not talented or musically innovative. In fact, their use of traditional Irish instruments (bagpipes, mandolin, tin whistle, and dulcimer) alongside the common guitar, bass and drums gives them a refreshingly unique flavor. The sound integrates well with the Irish-American themes in their songs. These range from serious commentaries about the ravages of war to light-hearted larks, such as “The Spicy McHaggis Jig”, which is about the band’s bagpipe player’s love for “chicks over four-hundred pounds.”

Kelly emphasized the importance of family when he mentioned that a large part of the joy he gets from playing in the band comes from the respect he gets from his parents: “Fulfilling my fathers dream, he’s also a drummer, is important. The respect and the approval of my parents is a big part of what’s great about playing in the band.”

The band as a whole seems to hold family roots dear. Look no further than the music they create, littered with references to their beloved Boston and Ireland, to find the evidence. “For Boston, for Boston we sing our proud refrain” begins their upbeat rendition of the Boston College fight song. During a couple of numbers on Saturday night, a nine-year-old fan even waved an American flag on stage.

When I asked about the direction the band’s career is taking, Kelly voiced concerns about the consequences of fame: “I don’t want to become a rock star. I want to be able to hangout with my friends downtown. Keep it real, if you will. I know a person—Fred Durst. They say he was a nice guy seven years ago but now he’s a prick. I don’t want that to happen to us.”

Judging by the humble persona the band radiates, it seems that they are in no near danger of allowing success to ruin them, despite the passion of their fans. The Saturday crowd could hardly contain its excitement. In anticipation, the audience chanted “Let’s go Murphy’s, let’s go!” while waiting for their set to begin.

Projected on the wall behind the stage in between bands (three bands played in all) were the Murphys’ beloved Boston Bruins engaging in hockey fights. The rowdy display of masculine aggression was mirrored by the crowd as soon as the Dropkick Murphys took the stage; mosh pits quickly formed in the center floor.

Despite the pushing and shoving, the crowd was friendly. I fell to the floor several times in waves of jumping bodies, but was pulled to my feet before I could even realize I had fallen. The sense of camaraderie peaked near the end of the set when Casey announced it was time for a Murphys tradition—when the audience joins arm-in-arm with their neighbors, like a set of drunken pub-goers. Sweaty, beer drenched and smiling, the crowd swayed and jumped in unison.

The Dropkick Murphys engaged the crowd straight to the end. They even invited fans on to the stage during the final encore number. As they belted “Good Rats,” a playful song about the rats that died to become the flavoring for Guinness beer, fans flocked to join them. Lead singer Al Barr struggled to keep from being pushed off as a few fans even managed to crowd-surf amongst the band.

The Dropkick Murphys are proud of their origins and are more down-to-earth and real than most groups. Many in Boston and around the world already adore them, and rightfully so. With a new album set to come out this fall and a live album and DVD from these past three shows in the works, their popularity will only increase. “I hope it won’t change the way we are as people,” said Kelly. So do we.

music

Dropkick Murphys

Avalon Ballroom

Mar. 15