Looking at photos of Shane MacGowan at (many) punk shows of the late 70s, you would hardly pick him as the soon-to-be punk poet of Irish(-style) folk balladry that he became. I love the ramshackle playing and singing on this album. Elvis Costello was smart enough to largely stay out of the way and record them like a rowdy after-hours knees up, a boisterous pub lock-in with a Celtic folk band, three sheets to the wind and racing through a repertoire of classic Irish and Scottish traditional tunes. Except that many of the songs are MacGowan originals, although you'd be hard pressed to squeeze a cigarette paper between his songs of the traditional tracks or those by more establish songwriters. he can hold his own with Ewan MacColl and Eric Bogle. it is a shame to me that the alcoholism and drug abuse are so intertwined int eh legend of Shane MacGowan legend. I think the persona was more than he could handle, and it damaged him physically and mentally, and led to many years of distress for him. He was clearly and intelligent and sensitive man, and well liked and respected by his fans and peers. It is a shame that he did not have more time to play to those strengths. It is a blessing that we have this excellent document of him and the band at the height of their powers. Folk is too often played like museum pieces. This album takes the energy of punk and applies it to the folk genre to show what the best of folk can be; music for drinking, singing, dancing and weeping. God bless the Pogues, in all their rough and ready glory.