The most heartening thing about the Dropkick Murphys listening party at Game On last week was how out-of-place they and their posse looked in the glossy, plasma-screen-equipped downstairs function room of the Fenway Park venue. It's a place for boldface names like Tom Brady and Nancy Kerrigan to rub elbows with the Red Sox and each other. The heavily tattooed, shamrock-Sox-gear-wearing Dropkicks crew looked at best like the guys who'd be rolling the kegs in from the truck. And they seemed to know it, standing around warily in packs, crowding the bar for Guinness and Buds. I hope someone was watching over the two guys down the bar from me who started doing shots of Jaegermeister at 5 p.m. on that 90-plus-degree day.
Of course, the key fact about the Dropkicks is that, unless you know their faces, the band members are indistinguishable from their huge cohort of local fans. HBO's never going to make an "Entourage" about these guys. But their new album, "Warrior's Code," out Tuesday on Hellcat Records, and a spot on the Warped tour beginning this weekend threaten to make their mugs a little better known.
Last year's hit Red Sox fight song, "Tessie," is tagged on at the end of "Warrior's Code," but this is another strong original effort from the band, celebrating as always the virtues of perseverance and community, the working class struggle, and, most interestingly, the toll wars take on the men who fight them.
When "Tessie" won best local single in the recent Phoenix poll, the Dropkicks took some grief for not being more political; my take is here. But the real answer comes on "Warrior's Code." "Last Letter Home" is a compelling exchange between a soldier in Iraq and his family here -- more compelling when you know that it includes actual lines from a Weymouth soldier who died over there, a Dropkicks fan who the band serenaded at his wake. It brings home the cost of war without being a screed. And nobody's going to mistake the frantic punk rant "Citizen CIA" for a pro-Bush tune.
With its sweet pipes and shouted choruses, lovely melodies and thrashing guitars, the disc is pretty much classic Dropkicks, but "Sunshine Highway" and "The Burden" are as close to radio-friendly as the band has ever been. And "Wicked Sensitive Crew," which addresses the, um, complexities of being a working class punk and how the band is often mistaken for thugs, is just freakin' hilarious.
All of this and more is addressed nicely in Mike Miliard's interview with the band in this week's Cellars By Starlight column in the Phoenix. And he also talks to their pals in the Unseen, who have a new disc as well and are joining them on the Warped tour.