Dropkick Murphys

Dropkick Murphys with The Unseen, Roger Miret and the Disasters

Wednesday · Bogart's

On paper, The Dropkick Murphys seems more like an alcohol-fueled idea for a Mike Myers skit on Saturday Night Live; "Let's do a Punk band out of Boston that loves AC/DC and The Pogues and plays bagpipes on Thrash anthems and traditional Irish pub songs!" If the band's high concept profile strains believability, the success that The Dropkick Murphys have enjoyed within the nearly singular genre subset they've created is almost unfathomable. The Murphys have become such a hot ticket in their hometown that a recent four-night stand there broke venue attendance records previously set by The Ramones. But don't mistake the Murphys for a regional sensation. Since their signing with Rancid guitarist Tim Armstrong's Hellcat label (an imprint of Punk trailblazer Epitaph), the Murphys have become tour circuit favorites, stealing nationwide shows on the Warped and Punk-O-Rama tours and making memorable appearances at The Sex Pistols' Silver Jubilee show and on fellow Bostonite Conan O'Brien's show. If you're still looking for a whiff of legitimacy to justify checking out the Murphys, consider the rollicking title track of their presciently christened new album, Blackout. When Nora Guthrie, daughter of late Folk legend Woody Guthrie and executor of her father's extensive archives, was looking for bands to ascribe music to her father's unpublished lyrics, she approached the Murphys for the WWII-era "Gonna Be A Blackout Tonight." In the Murphys' hands, Guthrie's slice of life lyrics about air raid wardens and blackout curtains smolder with the intensity of contemporary life set to a raucous soundtrack that rocks like the blitzkrieg and makes a return to those days of lights out during bombing campaigns seem all too plausible. Further proof of the Dropkick Murphys' divine mayhem can only be found at the front of the stage. Beer will flow, bodies will fly and a good time (and a blackout or two) will be had by all. (Brian Baker)

The Swingin' Utters with Youth Brigade

The Swingin' Utters

Tuesday · Sudsy Malone's

Punk doesn't get much more old school than SoCal quintet, The Swingin' Utters. Formed in 1988 as a Punk cover band with an abiding love for all things British (Clash, Buzzcocks, Sham 69), the Utters quickly made a name for themselves in their home community of Santa Cruz, Calif. After shifting gears with the inclusion of originals in their set list, the Utters moved to San Francisco where they hooked up with New Red Archives in 1995, who released the band's full-length debut, The Streets of San Francisco. The following year saw the release of the More Scared EP after which the band signed to the Fat Wreck Chords label (under the direction of NOFX's Fat Mike) and recorded what many consider one of the most classically structured American Punk albums of all time, A Juvenile Product of the Working Class, followed in short order by the equally well-received and expansive Five Lessons Learned. After another shredding EP, Brazen Head, the Utters folded new influences into their volatile Punk recipe with dashes of Oi and Pogues-flecked traditionalism rising through the band's Punk foundation on their eponymous 2000 album. In the Utters' 15th year, the band (vocalist Johnny Bonnel, bassist Spike Slawson, guitarist Max Huber, drummer Greg McEntee, guitarist/accordionist Darius Koski) is as busy as ever, with another full-scale tour, the concert EP Live at the Fireside Bowl and the return-to-Punk-form of Dead Flowers, Bottles, Bluegrass, and Bones, the Utters' best received album since Juvenile Product. Although The Swingin' Utters are one of the longest running Punk bands in the country, they've survived by working day jobs which severely curtail the amount of time they can spend on the road. Don't wait for the next leg of the tour: See the Utters of Swing while the man's not watching their clock. (BB)

Moviola with The Court and Spark and The Catalpa Boys

Tuesday · The Comet

One of the best bands to ever call Columbus, Ohio, home, Moviola has created a new album, East of Eager, that brings the band closer than ever to its Americana core. The band was spawned from the loins of Ohio State University over 10 years ago, and since then they've amassed a Bible-sized cache of glowing reviews from the Indie press.

Moviola

Due in early 2004 from the San Francisco label, California Recordings, East of Eager eschews most of the band's "Indie Rock" tendencies, churning with an honest, faithful slant on (gasp!) saddled-up Country music. While there's still plenty of smart, subtle quirks in Moviola's bent (lyrically and musically), and it is not devoid of originality, the group's intimate, D.I.Y. recording approach seethes with the authenticity of vintage Roots music. It's quick-triggered to say that Moviola has "gone Country" -- this isn't music for the Toby Keith set, and it's a tract they've hinted at increasingly with each album -- but if the band was transplanted back to the '50s, they'd be getting banned from the Grand Ol' Opry for their unruly hair. The swelling pedal steel and Bakersfield piano trills dance serenely within Moviola's organic, warm structure, while the vocals have a fractured vulnerability that draws the listener close.

Though wholly cohesive, Eager has a diverse flow, moving with a confidence from lonely ballads and boozy mid-tempo rockers and creating moody, visceral snapshots. One of the most appealing things about Moviola's Roots technique is that there's no parody in their punch. Reformed Punk kids tackling Country/Folk too often results in cartoonish bastardizations of the sound and image -- hay straws hanging from their lips, songs about trains they've never seen and coal mines they've only heard about on the History Channel, etc. But Moviola's songs are totally devoid of such illegitimacy; their writing is to good for that. (Mike Breen)

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