The Pogues: Shane MacGowan’s Greatest Teeth

No one can make you feel better about yourself after a long night of drinking than Shane MacGowan, founder and former/recently reunited frontman for The Pogues. This guy was drinking two guinness a night at the age of 5 and was downing fifths of whiskey by age 8. Seriously. He reportedly squandered millions of earnings from his days with the Pogues, in large part on booze and drugs. Awesome.

Ireland is lucky to have him. In the United States we have assholes like Scott Stapp making headlines for throwing fits after a few strawberry daquiries in an airport, then later taking a trip to rehab. Not Shane MacGowan. He makes no apologies and doesn’t do rehab because his Catholic, Irish upbringing taught him better. “We’d never even heard of alcoholism. We’d have thought it was some kind of weird religion. Our household was an open house where no one was refused, there was a continuous ceilidh going on, people would come from miles around for a drink, 24 hours, there’s always one or two people awake.” Awesome.

The boozing is one thing and the drugs are another. His run with the Pogues ended because of his drug exploits (50 hits of acid per day) and his rotten teeth (the ones that are left) are a result of excessive alcohol consumption, cigarettes, crystal meth and god knows what else. I’m not saying that watching someone’s body decay from drugs and alcohol is a great thing, but it is great to see a rock star, brilliant musician, and a genius songwriter make no excuses for his actions.

I think if Backstreet Boy A.J. McLean would have spent one night out with Shane MacGowan, one morning for that matter, he would have been scared sober. Had James Frey written A Million Little Pieces as a biography about Shane instead of an embellished memoir, he may still be friends with Oprah.

I was introduced to the Pogues about six years ago and I wish I had started listening sooner. The first album I purchased was If I Should Fall from the Grace of God, followed immediately by Rum, Sodomy and the Lash. Both albums are as addicting as the heroin that he (reportedly) had in his possession when Sinead O’Conner tipped him off to the police.

I recently noticed that both Rhaphody and iTunes now carry the Pogues discography, which is long a overdue addition. I’d urge anyone that isn’t yet a Pogues fan to spend some time with both albums. Give them a few long, hard listens. It’ll make the beer taste better and the whiskey go down smoother.