20 December 2001, Point Depot, Dublin, Ireland

As the Christmas lights throughout town got brighter, I became painfully aware that my semester abroad was coming to an end. And while I was sad to be leaving the beautiful country and charming people of Ireland, I was also giddy with anticipation.

I was going to end my time in Ireland on the highest possible note by seeing the Pogues, the quintessential Irish band, in all its reunited glory.

For those unfamiliar with the Pogues, here is a quick history lesson.

Comprised of Irish and British musicians, the Pogues fused the spirit and attitude of punk with traditional Irish music, using accordions, mandolins and tin whistles to orchestrate songs of drunken reveling and soured romance.

Led by notorious wastrel Shane MacGowan, the Pogues released five albums from 1984 to 1991 to much critical acclaim and international success.

Toward the end, MacGowan’s elegantly wasted lifestyle became too much of a liability for the rest of the band, and each continued without the other throughout most of the 90s.

Ten years pass and the Pogues are back together with MacGowan at the helm once more.

While no reason is given for the reunion, no one seems to be complaining. And though it is unclear if the band will record again, its week-long tour of Ireland and the United Kingdom was an unabashed success. And what better place to see them than in Dublin’s Point Depot on the only Irish show of the tour?

Now to the concert proper. After a couple pints of the black stuff (Guinness is as essential to a Pogues show as Busch beer is to a Cardinals game), the crowd was in the proper spirit. As the band took the stage to “Streams of Whiskey;” rapturous applause turned into a back-slapping sing-a-long.

The majority of the applause was reserved for MacGowan’s boozy behavior onstage. From hoisting the Irish flag to, quite literally, scratching his arse, Shane could do no wrong in the eyes of the audience.

Physically, MacGowan looked like hell. His sizable belly and sagging jowls betray his image as the lean, scraggly frontman of years past.

Vocally he didn’t fare much better, as acres of tobacco and gallons of alchohol have scarred his beautifully haggard delivery. It became clear than his presence was far more iconic that musical.

Not that it was easy to hear the vocals.

The audience shouted most of the songs, from the first single “Dark Streets of London” to the later “Rain Street,” in unison.

The seven other members of the Pogues played spot-on, most notably accordion player James Fearnley, whose frequent leaps from the drum riser suggested an Irish Angus Young.

The set consisted of greatest hits and fan favorites, though MacGowan could sing no more than three or four songs without wobbling offstage for a refill or sitting onstage for a breather. This gave fellow Pogues some space to sing their own tunes, the best of which was Terry Woods’ nationalist rebel song “Young Ned of the Hill.”

The set ended with “The Sick Bed of Cuchulainn,” the opening track from the band’s finest hour, 1985’s Rum, Sodomy and the Lash. And while it would have been a perfect evening if the show had ended on that note, the Pogues returned several times for encores.

Shane’s mother was brought out to sing the female vocals on “Fairytale of New York,” the band’s signature tune and still the best Christmas song written in the past 20 years. It didn’t really matter than Mrs. MacGowan couldn’t carry a tune, for harmony has never been her sons strong suit. Still, a few pairs of brown eyes were misty during this number.

Special guests continued as the Dubliners, the saltiest dogs in all of Irish music, joined the Pogues for the classic “The Irish Rover.”

The final song of the evening was either an unannounced new song or some obscure tune, as no one in the audience seemed to recognize it.

While the concert may have ended on a bit of a down note, Ireland’s finest didn’t disappoint the sold-out crowd.

The Pogues, though noticeably aged, reminded us that a reunion concert doesn’t have to be an exercise in ego stroking and money grabbing, and that great songs never die that the faithful will be rewarded. So raise a glass to that.