The dentally-challenged boozy Irish bard's slurry tales of drinking, high times and the IRA finally become fiddle-dee-dee by numbers and now even his lyrics fail to ignite the emotions the way he could once do so effortlessly. It illustrates what the BBC documentary failed to address, that the Pogues weren't merely Shane MacGowan's backing band but immense contributors. Only on St. John of Gods does he scrape the poignant heights of A Pair of Brown Eyes; its first person tale of a broken drunk whose pathetic refrain of "F yez all, F yez all" is strangely as touching as anything he's ever sung. (2 out of 5)