1001 Albums You Must Hear Before You Die: 609. The Pogues – If I Should Fall From Grace With God (1988)

 

Here we are towards the end of the Eighties. This is the year that saw Gorbachev’s perestroika initiative continuing as the Iron Curtain began to come down, with greater freedom of movement to and from Hungary. I’d argue that this is where the seeds for our current situation were sown where certain people were unhappy with their loss of absolute power. But anyway. There are a variety of peaceful protests across Warsaw Pact countries against Soviet rule. 

On that note, McDonalds opens in Belgrade and Budapest and the Soviet Union begins to withdraw troops from Afghanistan. Meanwhile Saddam Hussein uses chemical weapons against Kurds under the guise of the Iran-Iraq War. Al-Qaeda are formed, and George HW Bush becomes US president, all of which set the stage for shenanigans for years to come.

A couple of high-profile disasters dominate the UK news – a fire on the Piper Alpha oil rig in the North Sea, and the bombing of Pan Am flight 103 over the Scottish town of Lockerbie.  

Oh, and the first ever computer virus is created, the Morris Worm. 

Looking at some of those world events, it feels like we’re still feeling the ramiifications of them long after the fact, more so than earlier events, and it make me wonder how long it takes for ripples to die down. There are generational leaders now still continuing the fights of the late Eighties, if not earlier. Time for them to step aside and let the next generation fix things. 

And if all that seems too on-the-nose political for a blog about music, the next album up are The Pogues, who by no means shy away from political commentary. 

I’ve mentioned before how it’s a little jarring to encounter a Christmas tune in the middle of a “normal” album, and I almost skipped Fairytale In New York since I usually class the “official” start of Christmas from the first time I hear it and, at the time of writing this, it’s not quite Halloween yet (and publication date will be even earlier). But I think even this is far enough in advance for it not to count (despite mince pies already in the supermarkets). 

The great Kirsty MacColl only appears on this because Cait O’Riordan had left the band (there’s some goings on involving Elvis Costello that are irrelevant to this). But what a stroke of fortune that she does, elevating the song into something so much better. It’s all about nostalgia and hope despite the kicks that life gives you (and reading between the lines, McGowan’s character has largely brought a lot on himself with his drinking and gambling). These days, the more robust slurs that the couple throw at each other have been Bowdlerised for modern radio audiences which is a shame – see my Appendix N series for my opinions on the use of slurs in character as opposed to as a narrator. 

This sojourn in the drunk tank, however, puts us in the hard drinking, hard living, steerage-class place that The Pogues occupy. Bottle Of Smoke is about betting on the horses, Thousands Are Sailing follows the Irish diaspora across to America. Throughout the album the music of the working poor shows through – we’re hauling on ropes on the sea shanty South Australia, partying hard in Fiesta or recruited to fight in rich men’s wars.  

Nostalgia for Ireland is a common theme as well, including the The Broad Majestic Shannon (which in good folk music style practically re-uses the melody of Fairytale of New York). Streets Of Sorrow addresses living under the Troubles (or perhaps looks back further to the Civil War) before becoming the outright polemic Birmingham Six about men wrongfully arrested “for being Irish in the wrong place and time”. Their convictions were overthrown in 1991. It’s kind of ironic that the majority of The Pogues weren’t actually born in Ireland, but hey, what do you want? There’s always Planxty or The Dubliners if you want authenticity. 

Although there are a few tracks that blend in polkas, Middle Eastern themes, and a bit of salsa, the Pogues continue to do what they do best – roistering punky takes on traditional Irish music, and either you love what they do, or you are wrong. 

Oh, and 1988 is the median year for this list as well – the first album being 1955’s Wee Small Hours by Frank Sinatra, and the last album is from 2021. So, here we stand, 33 years in either direction.