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The old MacGowan shows up about half the time on "The Snake," but the other half sounds harsh and crude. Never the most precise singer, MacGowan can no longer keep up on the album's faster songs; he's more interested in finishing a song than finding its meaning.
It's hard to believe that the man who could write such touching, finely observed songs as "Fairytale of New York" could come up with "Donegal Express," with its unprintable chorus.
It's too bad, because in the Popes (nice touch, that), MacGowan has assembled a fine new backing band, as adept at rocking out as it is at playing slower, more Celtic-flavored songs. No band could save "A Mexican Funeral in Paris," a horn-laden mess that baldly attempts to echo the Pogues' "Lorca's Novena."
In his defense, "The Song With No Name" and "Roddy McCorley" display flashes of the old MacGowan; the former is a well-observed song of unrequited love, the latter a tale of an arrogant man's comeuppance. And Sinead O'Connor, who has demons of her own, brings a pure innocence to her part in "Haunted." It's the best she has sounded in years, and she goads MacGowan on to his most careful singing. MacGowan and the Popes will perform Friday at First Avenue in Minneapolis.