It’s tough being a party band with no party to go to, but the Dropkick Murphys aren’t letting circumstances get in the way of having a blast. The Boston boozers’ tenth album is a triple shot of euphoria with a Guinness chaser.
Middle Finger’s tin-whistle punk could have come from The Pogues’ first album, if Shane MacGowan was a nightclub bouncer with a season ticket to the Red Sox, and Mick Jones Nicked My Pudding (‘Oi! Mick Jones. Leave my pudding alone!’) is hands-down the funniest song you’ll ever hear about an ageing punk icon pilfering someone else’s dessert.
The Dropkicks are no spring chickens themselves, and they revel in the role of middle-aged curmudgeons shouting at clouds: HBDMF is a gleefully unreasonable take-down of anyone who has the temerity to celebrate a birthday.
Like the rest of the album, it’s the sound of a piss-up waiting for a brewery to reopen.