Dropkick Murphys leave audience bruised and happy

Concert-going is not an experience for the faint of heart, especially one involving a Boston-based Celtic punk band whose most famous songs involve bar room brawls and drunken sing-a-longs. As we emerged after the show was over, soaked in sweat and beer (tossed on us by a five foot nothing tub of lard who thought that it would be funny), bumped, bruised and mostly deaf, we undoubtedly resembled men stumbling away from an alley fight. At least, we felt that way.

That is, of course, the way you know that your concert was good. And the Dropkick Murphys were very, very good.

Their March 1st appearance at the House of Blues in Dallas was memorable for numerous reasons. The venue itself is beautiful, an excellent mid-sized place that was big enough to accomodate the masses within, but small enough that you could still reach out and grab the lead singer, if you felt so inclined (and didn't mind a few jabs in the ribs).

The Dropkick Murphys' opening band, Larry and His Flask, were hardly anything special, save for their Geico caveman look-a-like guitarist and crazed bassist. But they performed their duty as an opening band and got the crowd rowdy and drunk.

The set change between Larry and His Flask and the Murphys was perhaps the worst thing about the concert. It stretched on much longer than most set changes, past the time when making fun of the guy in front of you is still entertaining, and much past the first "Man, this is taking forever" comment. When the stage lights finally dimmed, we endured five minutes of a random Celtic song before the Murphys finally took the stage.

When they started playing, though, all was forgiven. Impatient sighs gave way to pumped fists and hoarse cries as the hundreds of audience members began to pound each other in the same way the Dropkick Murphys pounded their ears.

The band played an endless amount of songs in their hour and a half set, including all of their hits. The constant barrage was sadly uninterrupted by any audience or inter-band interaction beyond the occasional "Dallas, Texas!" from lead singer Al Barr or bassist/vocalist Ken Casey. However, what the Murphys lacked in showmanship they made up for by allowing first females, and then drunken concert members, to come on stage during their songs.

As we watched the display of stretched blouses and sagging blue jeans in front of us while the Murphys enchanted the audience with "Kiss me, I'm ****faced," we couldn't help but feel like we were in an old bar with a bunch of friendly strangers, drowning away the worry of the past week. $35 may sound like too much to you for such an experience, but for the right to stagger and push against a mass of humanity to the beat of Celtic punk, it was just right.