It was worth an occassional elbow and being continually crushed forward by 5,000 drunken Irishmen to stand front and center for the Pogues triumphant return to New York City tonight at the Roseland Ballroom. Shane McGowan, one of the greatest writers of my generation, only fell down once during the entire two-hour performance, and never off the stage. You've gotta love a guy who dropped so much acid one night that he broke all his teeth trying to eat a Beachboys album.
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