'Best non-Springsteen Springsteen ever. It's loping pace and wild boys on the loose narrative achieve actual anthemic status, thanks to the surging guitar riffs that set up the song with their chugging, then break out in a beautifully melodic chorus. Lynot proves that this kind of mythic male as camaraderie, in which summer is celebrated as a time when drink and blood flow in correlated measure, extends to transcontinental slaps in the mug. Which probably wasn't any surprise to an authentic Irishman like himself anyway.'
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