Hey, buddy. You know how earlier, when you got here, to your friend’s friend’s game night where you only know Dougie and you’ve only met his boyfriend twice and you’re pretty sure his name is Russell but you’re waiting for someone else to say it first just to be sure, and someone (whose name you also can’t remember) asked if you wanted a deviled egg and you said, “No thanks, they remind me of my divorce,” and then after a pause you said, “I’m just kidding, I’ve never been married” and then conversation resumed but you interrupted because you felt the need to explain, “But if I had ever gotten married, we probably would have had deviled eggs at the reception, because my Aunt Casey always brings them, but then if we ever got a divorce I wouldn’t be able to eat deviled eggs because they would remind me of my divorce…. Anyway uhh, yeah, I will have one, thanks, sorry,” and no one laughed and you’ve thought of nothing else since that moment because you can’t understand for your life why you would attempt such a bizarre and contrived gamble of a joke like you’re some kind of homeschooled alien who grew up in a cult that sacrifices social cues?
Well, pal, newsflash: everyone else here has also been doing backflips inside their heads at that weird thing you just said. I know it seems like they’re acting normal and treating you like nothing even happened, but they’re just being polite to you (and not because they like you but because they pity you).
Yup, just as sure as that ringing sound you hear sometimes is definitely a tumor and your ex is laughing about your sexual inadequacies as we speak, everyone here hates you.
You see, we brains have a special connection that you flesh pods—that’s our cute little name for you—can’t understand. I can see what’s really happening in anyone’s brain at any moment, no matter what their dumb face is doing on the outside or what polite lies they may be spewing about wanting to know where you grew up and if you play disc golf with Dougie. And let me assure you, every brain in here is in sheer agony trying to figure out why those weird, weird words came out of your mouth.
You’ve totally destroyed the fabric of culture for every person in here. They’re all pissed off at you because now they have to spend this party picking up the pieces of the social constructs you’ve absolutely shattered instead of enjoying a night of Munchkins and other overly complicated board games that everybody here knows the rules to already and which you will never have the capacity to understand. How dare you do this to them! God, you really are such an asshole. Also, I think you left the oven on.
Even more surprising than the Murphys’ 2022 decision to release an acoustic album of Woodie Guthrie lyrics was their 2023 decision to release a SECOND acoustic album of Woodie Guthrie lyrics. This shouldn’t be that surprising, though. DKM have been covering traditional and folk songs since the beginning, just never to this extent. Their biggest hit, “I’m Shipping Up To Boston,” was written by Woodie Guthrie. Oh, you knew that already? Well too bad, because here comes the “Tulsa Version” to show you how much less exciting that song could have been. “Okemah Rising” is honestly not a bad use of your time, it’s just that they did so much better with “This Machine Still Kills Fascists,” Why would they release such a low-energy knockoff of the same concept less than a year later? At least they made sure to include a song about killing Hitler in this album too.
It’s fitting that this album checked in at number 11. There’s nothing specifically bad about “11 Short Stories,” it just doesn’t stand out on this list in any meaningful way. Behind the scenes, the Dropkick Murphys have always devoted their time and money to philanthropy through their charity, the Claddagh Fund. This charitable side project heavily influenced this album, and it’s lyrically one of their more mature releases. But this is a band known for their fun, high-energy music. And there’s something profoundly un-”fun” about disabled veterans, kids with cancer, addiction recovery, and the Boston Marathon bombing. We get it, not all art exists to make people smile, but this album is a bummer of an outlier in a catalog full of loud, fun music.
You’ve been a band for fifteen years now, you’ve recorded six studio albums, you’ve gone independent and started your own label, what’s the next logical step? A concept album! Now in their teenage years, Dropkick Murphys are here with an entire album about an Irish immigrant moving to America. The bagpipes and accordion are pretty prominent on this one just in case you somehow forgot this was an Irish-themed band. “Going Out in Style” follows the fictional Cornelius Larkin through a stereotyped Irish-American life of drinking and union labor. It’s a good album to play on a road trip or in your favorite dive bar on St Patrick’s Day, but its choruses largely fail to be as memorable as the band’s early favorites. If this was the first Murphys album you ever heard, you’d probably like it. But this is an album ranking article, and there are nine better options to choose from below.
This was a needed relief from the bleakness of 2020. Dropkick Murphys knew that people weren’t interested in deep, contemplative music at this time. They wanted bands to take advantage of their free time and spend lockdown in the studio writing songs that were light and fun. No weird concept albums. No depressing think pieces about addiction or war. We wanted songs about somebody stealing pudding. Songs about how great it is to be from Suffolk County. Self-aware songs like the title track, which is literally about music being the cure for every shitty thing there is. The same band that refused to break St Patty’s Day tradition in 2020 (when they played a free live-streamed show to an audience of nobody) returned to tell us loudly and clearly that it was ok to be happy again. And also that it’s so awesome to have a bagpiper that he needs a dedicated song at every show. Lee-Boy, Lee-Boy, he’s our guy!
Dropkick Murphys’ sophomore album is the most purely “punk” they’ve ever been. There is practically zero bagpipe on this one, which would not typically be worth noting in a punk album review, but here we are. “The Gang’s All Here” features driving punk drumming which pushes the vocals swiftly along, encouraging them to wrap each song up and move on before they accidentally reach the three-minute mark. The only reason this album is so low on our list is the near absence of Irish influence that fans have come to expect from a band whose logo is a shamrock. Perhaps they were still worried about being pigeon-holed as a Celtic punk band? Later albums would wholeheartedly embrace this label, occasionally to a fault. One clear exception to this theme is their version of “Amazing Grace,” which has been transformed from the official funeral hymn of Irish cops into an earnest and respectable punk anthem.
It was wise to not call this album “Rose Tattoo,” which they clearly considered, given the cover art and its title derived from that song. “Rose Tattoo” is a proud tribute to an admittedly cliché expression of devotion, but it might have come across as insincere or sarcastic as an album title. Another fitting option would have been to name the album after the opening track “The Boys Are Back.” Not just because they seem to open every show with that song now, but as a reminder that the Murphys have returned to making music that balances their Irish influence with modern punk rock. After overdoing it a bit with the experimental “Going Out In Style,” it was time to write some songs that fans could chant along with. They even managed to sneak in a Christmas song, which implies the album’s January release may have been later than intended.
This is the album that “Okemah Rising” wanted to be. When Al Barr was forced to take a break mid-tour to care for an ailing family member, the rest of the band scrambled to figure out what to do without his grimacing mug on stage. After being given access to unreleased lyrics from Woodie Guthrie’s writing, and with encouragement from the sidelined Barr, the remaining Murphys put together an acoustic album. “This Machine” still sounds distinctly like a Dropkick Murphys album, not just an out-of-place folk album played by a Celtic punk band. That’s not an easy task when you’re adding the accordion to folk music. It has the energy and sing-along gang vocals of any of their other releases; just unplugged, and missing Barr’s red-faced shouting. Woodie Guthrie would be proud to hear his words used by a band that so unapologetically plays folk music for punks.
This collection of demos, B-sides, and live recordings is worthy of interrupting our list, even if the Hard Times’ bylaws state that only studio albums get rankings. This album contains hidden gems, though. Go listen to “John Law” and try to explain why it didn’t make the cut for “Do or Die.” Take note of the multiple Clash covers. Enjoy “3rd Man In” with arguably better vocals than the band’s final version. This is a rare example of the album version being tamed down from its demos. But don’t worry, “Firestarter Karaoke” is here to show us that a demo is supposed to be a worse version of the final product. As a reminder that the Murphys have always been a cover band, go check out “Billy’s Bones,” which answers the question “what if The Pogues shouted all of their lyrics?”
“The Meanest of Times” was the band’s last album from the early years when they were still signed to Hellcat Records. While their first few albums were produced by Rancid’s Lars Frederiksen, the producer credit on this album simply goes to “Dropkick Murphys.” Maybe Hellcat was holding them back from making “Going Out In Style”? Whatever the reason for their departure from the label, the Murphys made sure to leave on a high note. This is a fun, high-energy album. Its most popular song, “The State of Massachusetts,” is a textbook example of the Dropkick Murphys. It sounds like a party on the surface, but the lyrics tell the dark tale of a struggling addict having her kids taken away by the state. All while a banjo plucks along with a tune that is suspiciously similar to “I’m Shipping Up To Boston.”
“Blackout” was when Dropkick Murphys really hit their stride as musicians. After a few years of research into how much bagpipe should be included in their music, they decided the correct answer was “whatever we feel like”. The title track “Gonna Be A Blackout Tonight” also foreshadowed the band’s fondness of Woodie Guthrie covers while telling the relatable and timeless tale of hiding from WWII bombers. The rest of the album shows how well a band can fuse Irish instruments into their music. Other than “As One,” in which the bagpipes are given center stage, and a cover of the popular “Fields of Athenry,” most of the piping is used as seasoning to complement the choruses. Overall, these are crowd-pleasing songs about a blue-collar life of friends, family, and beer. Fans of the tongue-in-cheek drinking anthem “Kiss Me I’m Shitfaced” might be surprised to learn that singer and bassist Ken Casey has been sober since before the Dropkick Murphys’ were founded.
This was the band’s first album, and their only studio release featuring original co-lead singer Mike McColgan, who left the band to fulfill his destiny as a Boston firefighter. “Do or Die” is much more street punk and Oi! influenced than you would expect from a band that employs an accordionist and a tin whistle. It’s a timeless collection of songs about drinking, fighting, and how awesome it is to be Irish in Boston. (“Barroom Hero” checks all three boxes). This album includes modern adaptations of both Irish and American folk songs – “Finnegan’s Wake” and “Skinhead on the MBTA,” respectively – as well as several instant classics from the Murphys. They chose to open their debut album with “Cadence to Arms,” which is an all-bagpipe cover of “Scotland the Brave,” because American listeners don’t really seem to care about the difference between Irish and Scottish culture.
The Dropkick Murphys could have made their name as simply an Irish-themed cover band and been successful. Instead, they perfected this niche of Irish-inspired punk music so well that you wouldn’t guess which songs are covers vs their original works on “Sing Loud.” “Good Rats” tells the tale of a rodent-infested brewery from the point of view of the rats as they party and drink themselves to death in a vat of beer. This plays like it was from an old Irish pub song, but is in reality a Murphys original, featuring the slurred guest vocals of the Pogues’ own Shane MacGowan. Who but the Murphys could write fake Irish music so convincingly that the founding father of Celtic punk joined them in a song? One of the more memorable songs on this album is the pro-union “Which Side Are You On?” a cover of a 1930s American folk song made famous by UK folk singer and punk muse Billy Bragg.
The album that contained Dropkick Murphys’ biggest single, “I’m Shipping Up To Boston,” should clearly be at the top of this list. This hype-you-up anthem, with its four lines of repeating lyrics, went platinum. It was featured TWICE in “The Departed.” It has become a pop-culture cliché to include this song in any movie set in Boston, much to the dismay of the airport employees hearing it on loop as you film your shitty TikToks in Logan airport. The only song that’s really worth skipping is the Red Sox anthem “Tessie.” This entire album is high-energy punk rock, from the street punk “Citizen C.I.A” to the more melodic “Take It And Run.” It only slows down to catch its breath for a few minutes during “The Green Fields of France.” Even the traditional “The Auld Triangle” has been transformed from Irish folk to Boston punk in the hands of the Murphys.
The McBain actor would absolutely not invest in crypto because he once saw a commercial with Matt Damon promoting it, and Rainier is still soured by the fact that Damon beat him out for the lead in the “Bourne Identity” movies.
Old people do not invest in crypto. They accumulated wealth by being born at the right time and believing they worked hard for it, while not realizing they only needed one part-time job to afford a house, two cars, and seven children. The rest of us will have to gamble our money in the stock market in hopes of one day living slightly above the poverty line.
Clancy Wiggum would definitely not invest in “cryptozoology” or “kryptonite” or whatever it is people are talking about. Boy, would he like to understand why everyone keeps bringing it up though.
Marge seems like she is skeptical of every opportunity that is presented to her. Bitcoin will be no different. She’s going to pass on it because she doesn’t quite get why it’s better than a good old fashioned quarter fresh from the mint.
This man stopped acquiring new information during the Carter administration. The thought of something called Ethereum might just kill him.
Moe is staunchly anti-cryptocurrency, mainly because an anonymous source once called him at the bar about something called Titcoin and he thought for sure he was getting pranked with a made-up name, so he hung up and unplugged the phone for the rest of the week and kept his shotgun pointed at the door.
Mayor Quimby primarily gets money from lobbyists and corporate sponsors who want him to do his bidding, which is quite lucrative. That’s just how the government works now. He doesn’t say a word about that part though.
Disco Stu does not have extra money to invest after blowing it all on a custom-made disco ball that hangs above his bed. He’s got his priorities, albeit questionable by non-1970s standards.
These total nerds are happy just being alive and can’t be bothered obsessing about getting ahead financially. They’re too busy being grateful for the life they already have. Fucking dorks.
Cletus just can’t quite grasp the concept of a type of money that you can’t see, that’s not exactly money, yet can be used as money, but also not used as money in normal places where you would use money. Seriously, it’s not that hard, dude.
Chalmers is currently superintending eight school districts, and he deep down hates every single one of the principals. No time to invest his physical money in digital money.
A large portion of Jasper’s life savings is being likely siphoned off by health insurance companies. Someone should probably do something about old people being taken advantage of and gradually sucked dry financially by predatory third parties.
Barney prefers to invest in more immediate, consumable, and physical stocks, like Duff beer. He may be hammered on his investments and in desperate need of a friend group who doesn’t enable him, but at least he’s not cornering you at the bar to talk about something called ETFs.
Miss Hoover makes a teacher’s salary and on top of that has to buy her own school supplies. This is not a recipe for personal cryptocurrency enterprises.
If you’re someone who spends all your time plotting and enacting revenge, there’s a good chance that wealth-building strategies aren’t top of mind. Attempted murder is at least a more interesting topic of conversation than a digital currency that is personally endorsed by Ashton Kutcher, who also endorsed Danny Masterson.
Otto still uses a Walkman to listen to music on cassette. He has yet to step into the digital age where we pay streaming services for music instead of artists themselves. There’s just no way crypto is on this guy’s radar.
No one quite knows for sure Willie’s stance on crypto. This is essentially due to the fact that not a single person seeks out his opinion on financial decisions. Or anything, really. Why start now?
Kirk was the only person in existence who somehow capitalized on the Beanie Baby investment craze in the ‘90s, but he’s not able to tell anyone about it because it’s embarrassing as hell. This man is a vault when it comes to investments.
Montgomery got rich in the more traditional way of exploiting workers for profit and personal gain. Making money through volatile crypto investments just doesn’t have the same feel to it.
Ned primarily invests in his small business called The Leftorium which he owns and operates. How this store stays afloat at the Springfield Mall is anyone’s guess. On the other hand, if a store called Lids that seems to sell baseball hats exclusively is still alive and well then anything is possible. Unless of course The Leftorium and Lids are both fronts for money laundering schemes. Then that explains everything.
Financial health is just as important to Dr. Hibbert as physical health. In his medical opinion, you shouldn’t invest in something you don’t fully understand. Nevertheless, he mainly recommends you invest in yourself, which is great advice if you can ever figure out what the hell that even means.
Pedro Chespirito is a total wildcard. He has his own slapstick comedy show, seemingly always dresses up as a bee even when not on set, and he’s even on a bowling team where he wears a bowling shirt over his bumblebee costume. Your guess is as good as mine on this guy.
Smithers is a practical man. He puts his money in a high yield savings account and plays the long game. He will talk about how he has a 4.35% interest return, but no one will know what the hell he’s talking about. Like, what’s a savings account?
Helen is currently protesting the evils of crypto. She can’t explain what it is or why it’s evil, but it must be nefarious if it’s new and she can’t comprehend it in simple, faith-based terms.
Kent will actually speak about crypto during the news itself, but only because one of those digital currency companies paid to be an advertiser. The primary purpose of the news is to plug whatever entity gives them the most money to promote the product they’re selling. This is not Kent’s fault.
Chimaira’s sixth album is a waste, both of their talent and your time. The off-brand metalcore songs have the creativity of beige wallpaper and the depth of a two-dimensional object. Hell is listening to this insipid record, and life it too short to bother replaying a single track. Perhaps it’s because everyone not named Arnold or Hunter left or was kicked out before writing and recording. As such, the trio—Hunter, Arnold, and longtime producer Ben Schigel on drums—play with the enthusiasm of a hungover McDonald’s cashier. Interestingly, Hunter has a moment of shocking self-awareness when he asks, “Where did my passion go?” Where, indeed.
Much like trucker hats and asking Regis to phone a friend, Chimaira’s debut is a relic of the early 2000s: thin production, wet-ping snares, nu metal riffing, and needless electronic soundscapes. Oh, and the lyrics read like the diary of an angsty suburban teenager (“You don’t know what it’s like to be dead inside”). Hunter, meanwhile tries out several vocal styles including too-close-to-the-mic talk-singing, whiny yet oddly sensuous singing, and awkward kinda-rapping. None work. There are flashes of the more interesting band they’d become—derived almost exclusively from Herrick’s excellent playing—but “Pass Out of Existence” is mostly a band trying on baggy jeans and a wallet chain because all the kids at school are wearing them. Sure, this is a mess relative to “Hell” (and the rest of their output), but at least there’s some passion here.
Chimaira’s seventh (and final?) album finds them bouncing back from their studio nadir two years earlier. Because everyone besides Hunter left, “Crown of Phantoms” is essentially a solo record. Still, he recruited some real talent—notably lead guitarist Emil Werstler and drummer Austin D’Amond, who steal the show—that injected new life into a comatose enterprise. Correctly leaning into the groove metal half of their sound, there’s flashy playing and slick riffing throughout. Given the mass exodus prior to this record and the band breaking up a year later, however, it’s hard not to see references in Hunter’s lyrics to betrayal and cowardice as being directed at former bandmates, as well as multiple references to putting a gun to a head as foreshadowing the band’s demise. If “Crown” remains Chimaira’s last record, they at least ended on a decently-high note.
This is for Chimaira fans who liked their eponymous album (see #1) but wanted a streamlined version. “Resurrection,” then, consists of good-not-great material that’s more or less well-paced, save for a momentum-killing, overstuffed thing called “Six.” Herrick’s superb drumming is the high point: he plays like he’s justifying his initial return to the band, (re)cementing the classic lineup. Hunter’s pedestrian diary scribbles, conversely, are again the main flaw, even when he attempts social commentary (e.g., “Day and night feed off humanity / Scraping by on the remnants of life / No cure, no hope, no way to change / Paper bags filled with liquid love”). Notably, Hunter references Nietzsche and Herbert Spencer, suggesting that he (temporarily?) closed his diary and opened a book. That’s progress.
Their fifth record is the one for Pantera fans, because Chimaira go all-in on mid-tempo groove metal. “The Infection” lacks the southern fried boogie and the arena hooks of Pantera, but it’s
For their second album, and first with the classic lineup, the sextet decided to jettison all the poor decisions of “Pass Out” and instead distill their songwriting into a singular vision. The result is a cohesive and well-written set of songs. Who’da thought? After the experimentation of “Pass Out,” Hunter wisely picked a single vocal style: his well-known scrape-screech, which answers the question, “What would it sound like if you ran steel wool over your larynx?” Unsurprisingly, the record’s weakness is Hunter’s teenager whining like “Maybe I’m not who you are / Maybe I want to be myself.” Yet, aside from the closing track, “The Impossibility of Reason” is so good that you can (mostly) ignore it.
Chimaira’s third full-length feels like a reaction to their previous two—specifically, the melodic and electronic elements. Here, both are minimized faster than a porn window when your roommate turns the doorknob. This is the band’s thrashiest and grooviest and proggiest record, full of satisfying riffage and excellent musicianship. (It should come as no surprise that they covered “Disposable Heroes” during these sessions; it appears on the special edition.) Part of the album’s greatness is derived from Kevin Talley, a superb and inventive drummer who’s passed through more bands than the clap. Sadly, that means this is the only time he’d play on a Chimaira release. On the plus side, however, he was here for this monster’s peak and one of the best metal albums of 2005. So there’s that.
