Album Review: The Rumjacks – Saints Preserve Us!

There are plenty of misty-eyed Celts out there in the Irish diaspora making a career out of misappropriating a real or imagined heritage and the dull reflected glow of unsavoury political opinions. Let’s clear this up straight out: The Rumjacks are not those people. They are a modern Celtic Punk band with a razor-sharp take on modern living that can also cast an eye over their shoulder to the experiences of the wider Celtic homelands. In fact, without any prior knowledge of the band’s biography, you would be hard-pressed to connect the adjective ‘Celtic’ with the angry yet jaunty ska of the title track, which writer and frontman Frankie McLaughlin describes as “a great big sweep at how stupid we’re becoming, and my very real fear of what would happen if we were put to some kind of survival test…” And then, with a trill on the tin whistle, we’re into the classic, raucous diddly-dee of Billy McKinley. Just to mix things up further, An Poc Ar Buile (The Mad Puck Goat) is a traditional Irish fighting song, sung in Irish – not bad going for a band from Sydney and typical of the authenticity this band brings to whatever they seem to do.

But it’s not all jolly green japery. This is first and foremost an album of punk rock sensibilities. Cold London Rain is classic sing-a-long power-punk-pop with hints of the poppier end of Thin Lizzy in its guitar licks. There’s a lot to love here. Some of it is green, some of it is angry red.

Saints Preserve Us! is a rollicking album that manages to take an established formula (adding mandolin, whistle and pipes to the classic punk rock line-up) and makes it fresh and vital again while, and this is the real joy in it, making an exciting yet familiar racket. This is the sound of a band who have forged their musical relationship over years of playing together. Lyrically adept and thought-provoking, musically exuberant and on top of their game, The Rumjacks are a band rising above a well-worn trench. It’s a tribute to their work ethos. Best of all, it’s self-deprecating: “my blood’s greener than yours, my neighbour’s sister’s boyfriend used to roadie for The Corrs, though it’s been a generation since we kissed old Erin’s shores ….” they sing in Cupcakes. Celtic – yes. Punk – yes. Good – fuck yeah. Éirinn go Brách.

Saints Preserve Us! can be pre-ordered here