![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() It’s as scattered as the geographically separated band itself, without the locked-in sense of purpose that the Murphys use to overcome the potential redundancy of the songs.īut the Bosstones come through periodically, whether it’s in the defiant unity of “Bruised” or in the terrific “You Had to Be There,” a fired-up party song that operates both as nostalgia and as an invitation to the next one. At nearly an hour, it’s at least 20 minutes too long, with forays into Springsteenian grandeur (“I Don’t Want to Be You” and the title track), an incongruously upbeat commentary on George Floyd’s death (“The Killing Of Georgie ”), and a cover of Creedence Clearwater Revival’s hopeful beacon “Long as I Can See the Light” standing alongside the band’s usual ska-infused regular-schmoe pep talks. ![]() The Bosstones’ “When God Was Great” is a bit more varied, and also duller. Patrick’s Day concert days after the Massachusetts lockdown began and weathering the past year as a tightly packed unit.įrontman Dicky Barrett and The Mighty Mighty Bosstones at 2019's Hometown Throwdown at the House of Blues. But the difference between the Murphys’ “Turn Up That Dial” (out Friday, Born & Bred Records) and the Bosstones’ “When God Was Great” (out May 7, Hellcat Records) may be in how each band rode out that isolation: Where the Bosstones’ multicoastal operation required them to regroup from afar with caution and hesitancy, the Murphys hunkered down right from the start, performing a virtual St. With a combined 60 years as local institutions, the Mighty Mighty Bosstones and Dropkick Murphys are in many ways flip sides of the same coin, the good-natured goofery of the former and the confrontational broken-bottle warning of the latter both disguising heartfelt paeans to connection and community.Īfter a year of isolation, it’s no wonder that both bands are releasing new albums back to back, and not just because the dam of the pandemic seems to be cracking all at once. Two iconic Boston bands, both with strong plaid associations, each having carved out its own spot on the calendar with multi-day holiday bashes, featuring guys blowing into tubes, fronted by endearing singers with gravel in their throats but not their hearts. ![]()
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