Raise a glass to the Dropkick Murphys! Hey!

It’s usually a good sign when the first time you hear about a band you’re eating a peanut butter burger while sitting at a bar.

It doesn’t’ hurt that the next thing you hear about them is they contributed to the Departed soundtrack.

And the trifecta is complete when a rock & roll gal from work (let’s call her Carol), who you’ve had arguments about the specific definition of “punk” with over the ears recommends them. Yes, with Dropkick Murphys all the letters of recommendation were in before I even started listening.

The Dropkick Murphys had me from the school bell on opener “Famous for Nothing,” It’s the tale of St. Mary’s school where the only common ground between cliques is basketball and alcohol. “Famous for Nothing” is messy rock just how this high school mash up would likely turn out. “It wasn’t pretty at all” the lads go on to say.

When I first held the new Dropkick Murphys’ CD The Meanest of Times, I was excited. The pleather album cover look combined with the Celtic cross on the front album art felt provocative. The Meanest of Times felt like an album college guys would lift weight to. More importantly it felt like something absent from the world right now, some good punchy punk.

The music reminds me of a college roommate I had named Sam. I think he’s a lawyer now, but back in the day no one was more fun then Sammy. He was the guy you wanted to stand and scream through the sunroof and do shots of Jameson late night with. Sammy was straight up Boston, straight up passion.

The brief description I had on Dropkick Murphys going in was “Celtic punk.” And I guess that’s about right. Dropkick Murphy sound like Green Day with bagpipes. They sound like bloody knuckles with claddagh rings on. But mostly the music sounds like a big sweaty club filled with people raising their glasses to toast. Lead singer Al Barr has plenty of memorable one-line screams like “God willing,” “sailor coming home,” and “You said we’d die alone” that add to this effect.

The Irish stuff does come through loud and clear on songs like “The State of Massachusetts” and “Johnny I Hardly Knew Ya.” There are plenty of fist pumping “heys!” throughout, and the entire record moves at a blistering pace. What I like most about The Meanest of Times are the stories. They sing about characters like Billy and Flannigan. And they sing about whiskey, war, suicide, and guns.

But it’s not the Irish thing I like best about Dropkick Murphys. While I think that’s a reason to check them out, my two favorite tracks “Echoes on ‘A’ Street” and “Surrender” have a lot more guitar than they do shamrock shake. “Echoes on ‘A’ Street” is an epic track with a vocal that sounds like Neil Diamond at the start (a good thing by the way) before turning into a cinematic stomp down the block. The “Sailor Coming Home!!” chorus is the sort of thing to have you screaming alone in your car. Great rock & roll indeed. “Surrender” is more guitar hero with monster riffs that remind me of the best of Green Day, Blink 182, and Angels and Airwaves. “Surrender’ is leaner and more of a single. The guitar is kick ass especially when James Lynch melts your mind about two minutes in. The last track on the record rounds out my medal stand, as “Never Forget” is an anthem about the importance of love and family.

“(F)lannigan’s Ball” almost sounds like a continuation of “Surrender.” While not as strong a track, I’m glad we’re still rocking. While most of Dropkick Murphy’s songs are similar to the punk of Green Day, on “I’ll Begin Again” they show they’re capable of a more straight ahead big rock sound.

Guitarist James Lynch can straight shred and he pops off for the first time on “Tomorrow’s Industry” as does drummer Matt Kelley. “Tomorrow’s Industry” is a nice little band showcase, if not a great song.

In many ways Dropkick Murphys are the opposite of the other band I reviewed this week, Radiohead. If Radiohead sounds like a synthetic, empty, urban apartment –Dropkick Murphys are more like one of those little bars on the shore where the crab fisherman drink all night after getting off the boat for the entire summer.

I can only imagine how great Dropkick Murphys would be live. I picture a crowd full of brothers swaying back and forth, arm and arm, raising their glasses. The Meanest of Times is a nice little record with a half dozen promising tracks. Now if I could only find Sammy and some Jameson.