The white-knuckled, black leather furor of the early Eighties underground is back. More than two decades after the first-generation punk bands like the Cockney Rejects, Last Resort and the 4 Skins gave the young and disenfranchised working class (and, unfortunately, a faction of hard right-leaning skinhead racists) a rallying point, a faction of American punk bands is shaving its head, raising its fist and crying "Oi!" once again.

"A lot of people would like to see the Oi! movement stay underground, and in a lot of ways we are an Oi! band," says Ken Casey, bassist for Boston's Dropkick Murphys. "But from the beginning we were interested in taking a more mainstream route by going on tour with the Mighty Mighty Bosstones and things like that."

American punk black sheeps, the Dropkick Murphys straddle esteemed obscurity and guiltless popularity. "I think it's an elitist attitude to want to keep punk music to yourself," Casey adds. "Maybe we'll save some kids from a lifetime of listening to crappy music."

All sons of south Boston Irish immigrants, the men of the Murphys began fusing Irish folk and hardcore punk in the shallow basement of a friend's barbershop back in 1996. They couldn't play a lick, but thankfully punk music has never relied on deft musicianship for its survival. And after downing twelve or so pints, even "Finnegan's Wake" sounds better.

Dropkick Murphys' Guinness influence was made apparent almost immediately as Casey, guitarist Rick Barton, drummer Matt Kelly and former frontman Mike McColgan swiftly unleashed seven independent recordings in less than two years, each featuring their fair share of drinking songs and bagpipes. One of those EPs fell into the hands of Rancid guitarist Lars Frederiksen, who put in a good word at Hellcat Records and produced their first full-length album, Do or Die.

That 1998 release earned the respect of underage punksters nationwide with its blue-collar narrative and underdog-wreaks-revenge mentality. Beneath the machine-gun lyrics and crashing guitar hammer of Do or Die was a message of "friendship and loyalty and stuff" that Casey says hit a nerve with a lot of downtrodden kids -- Irish and otherwise. One anthem in particular, "Boys on the Dock," has served as a rallying cry for the group's fans. Casey wrote that song for his grandfather, who helped unionize the fishermen and longshoremen in Boston two generations ago.

"Some kids take us to heart, and I think that's the most moving part about being in a band for me," Casey says. "When we play 'Boys on the Dock' at shows, the whole crowd will sing along. That could be anywhere from 300 to 2,000 people singing, and that's pretty touching to me. It makes you feel like you're leaving a legacy behind."

Tradition is everything to the Dropkick Murphys, who released their second major label record -- and first venture with new singer Al Barr - on, appropriately, St. Patrick's Day's eve. The Gang's All Here, also produced by Frederiksen, preserves the heritage of Do or Die, with sixteen relentless punk songs riddled with bagpipes, fiddles and an indie spirit. Two of the album's most powerful songs are the back-to-back "Devil's Brigade" and "Curse of a Fallen Soul," which desperately encourage Dropkick fans to take control of their destiny because, as the latter songs says, "there's nothing that can save you but a strength from within." And this from a supposed Oi! band?
"We are all a little older -- late twenties and early thirties -- and we grew up the wrong way, took all the wrong turns," Casey says. "So in retrospect, and having a young fan base, we have an obligation to tell the truth and not romanticize it all. We try to pass on a little pride and morals, but most kids just want to knock each other down in a pit."

ANNI LAYNE
(March 17, 1999)