GOOD AND BAD, I DEFINE THESE TERMS QUITE CLEAR…
—BOB DYLAN
There was a time in London, in the mid-’80s, when a party would invariably close with a couple of Pogues songs. It didn’t matter what music had preceded them—it could be reggae or soul or whatever—but the Pogues would be played, to enthusiastic sing-a-longs by the party guests. Even I was known to join in occasionally.
As often as not, one of the songs would be the Pogues’s cover of Ewan MacColl’s “Dirty Old Town.” It didn’t matter that the song had been written about Salford
