Foreword 1

A Lesson Well Learned:
Evolving Beyond Feuds and Living in Unity
Al Barr of the Dropkick Murphys

It was 1984, and the first wave of hardcore was going on, which felt like the second wave of punk. I’d been entrenched in it for almost three years, but I wasn’t in a big city where the action was. I was living with my folks in New Hampshire.

When I saw Agnostic Front for the first time, I was 15. My buddy Keith Eaton invited me, and I thought we were just going to a punk concert. That show was a life changer.

Agnostic Front started the show with a wild bassline and then guitar and drums. There was a mic stand but no singer. Then out of nowhere, this guy flew in, grabbed the microphone, sprung up into the air and started screaming. When he went into the chorus of “Victim In Pain,” “Why am I going insane?” he ripped his shirt off and I saw his tattoo of a crucified guy with a gas mask. He was muscular but lean. When he ripped off his kerchief, I saw he had a Mohawk. I thought, Fuck! He has the same look as me!

Keith and I went to the front and watched Agnostic Front from a few feet away. There was a rift between Boston and New York and this was a Boston crowd with a grudge, so they wanted to make a statement. Almost everyone was standing against the wall with their arms folded. AF was onstage ripping from one song to another, and no one was dancing!

Keith and I couldn’t believe that they weren’t blown away by all of AF’s energy. I had never seen anything like this division at a show. There had always been a feeling of unity: Everybody danced and shared in an us-against-the-world mentality. Something was weird that Keith and I didn’t understand. That’s because we weren’t part of the city politics.

We later became aware of the rift between New York and Boston. Some bands from Boston had gone to CBGB, said some disparaging things about New York and gotten their asses beaten. In response, these Boston kids were giving AF attitude. At some point AF stopped playing. The drummer, Dave Jones, made a speech about how they had driven six-plus hours to get there. “Where’s the love, Boston?” he asked. “What the fuck is this?”

The band continued playing, but the tension grew. Eight or nine New York skins started bouncing through the crowd and beating the shit out of everybody. A young Dicky Barrett (later of the Mighty Mighty Bosstones) got punched in the face by Jimmy Gestapo from Murphy’s Law. It was a knock-down, drag-out fight. Chairs were hoisted and swung at people.

Intimidated by the violence, my friend and I left early, but not before I learned about the power of NYHC. Roger taught me all about furious, sincere facial expressions, and he leapt around the stage like an acrobat. During the slower parts he was the master of that New York stage stomp that his brother Freddy later perfected in Madball.

The first time I met Roger was in 1988. My band The Bruisers played a show with Agnostic Front at Man Ray in Cambridge, Massachusetts. Anticipating AF’s performance made us more energetic during our set. When they went on they were explosive. When we started doing shows together I briefly feared Roger. They had come up to New England, and they stayed in New Hampshire on a day off. Roger wanted to go to some bike stores. Then I sent the band down a seacoast road, which was a beautiful drive that went directly to the club. When we got to the show the next day, Roger had just found out that his squat had burned down. Freddy was in the hospital with smoke inhalation. I went up to him not knowing anything had happened.

“Hey, man!” I said. “What’d you think of the shops and isn’t that ride to the coast amazing? Did you like it?”

“I don’t fuckin’ like anything!” he yelled.

He had a crazy temper. I didn’t know what to think until someone told me his living space had gone up in flames. Any fear I had of Roger dissipated. We did a bunch of shows together over a couple months, then they gave us a song they had never recorded but had always sound-checked with called “Iron Chin.” We recorded it in 1993 for our first full-length, Cruisin’ for a Bruisin’. It became known as a Bruisers song and our fans loved it. This legendary group Agnostic Front gave a band from the sticks their song. And it wasn’t some shitty leftover track. They didn’t have to do that.

Once I became friends with Roger, he was like a big brother. He was someone I could talk to and look up to. On my first tour with Dropkick Murphys we opened for Agnostic Front, and I knew Roger better than the guys in my band. We were friendly, but friendships develop over time. Suddenly I was on a three-month U.S. tour with people I hardly knew followed by a month in Europe. Every day, there was a time when Roger and I talked about life.

Even though I had been in the punk scene and singing in bands for 15 years, I struggled to find where I fit in with the Dropkicks. There was a learning curve, but I had to learn fast since we were on the road. Everyone in the band was frustrated, including me. Roger was encouraging, and that boosted my confidence. I could be in a shitty mood, and we’d go have coffee, complain and laugh. Suddenly everything didn’t seem so stressful.

I’ve become even closer with Roger over the years. The world finally caught up with Roger and Vinnie Stigma. They’re the elder statesmen of hardcore. Roger feels that admiration from the community, and that makes him happy.

Roger is still an amazing performer. He’s still making great music. It’s loud and pissed off, but he’s in a much happier place.

They don’t come any more real than Roger. He has the heart of a lion, he’s as ferocious as a bear and he’s a stand-up guy. I love the dude and I always will.