"Remember that foul evening, when we heard the banshees howl?" Clearly and painfully.

If we stood any closer, Shane MacGowan's whiskey breath would have given us a contact buzz. Our semi-annual Pogues gang met and traveled to Detroit to see the Pogues' latest U.S. tour. Without the rougher New York City crowd, we had no fear of getting trampled 10 feet from the stage.

Openers Titus Andronicus, for their Shakespearean name and bushels of rave reviews, were a letdown, pummeling us with 45 minutes of unimaginative indie-punk.

As usual, the band came out bright-eyed and sharp, with the exception of the one Pogues member most people can name. MacGowan was wrecked, gripping the microphone stand for balance,attempting incomprehensible banter and stumbling offstage whenever Spider Stacey took over lead vocals.

In general, the Pogues are a tighter outfit in MacGowan's absence - they just stop being an attraction. This audience didn't glaze over when Stacey led on Tuesday Morning and several other standards.

But MacGowan is still a performer. Anyone who hear his heart-wrenching performance of And the Band Played Waltzing Mathilda that night knew the man still has some beauty left in that ragged voice. it was aching, haunting and earned everyone's full attention, an impressive feat for the tale of a maimed World War I Australian soldier. MacGown balanced that by hitting the yelps on "Poor Paddy" with knife-like precision.

The show came in a little behind 2009 in New York City, mainly due to location and energy. As the second show of a 10-night tour, the Pogues felt as if they were still getting back into form.

The setlist covered much of the same ground, but covered it well. There won't be too many more opportunities to hear Sick Bed of Cuchulainn, The Broad Majestic Shannon or Body of an American, three tunes that have never grown stale. Philip Chevron still owns the Irish immigration ballad Thousands Are Sailing.

Two surprises came from their mid-1980s heyday, the instrumental Repeal of the Licensing Laws and the accordion-heavy London Girl.

As always, the end came too quickly with the frantic Fiesta. It was a great bookend to Streams of Whiskey, the bouncy opener.

By night's end we probably rivaled MacGowan for Guinness consumption, our post-mortem of the show running into the wee hours. We found comfortable pub down the block and made it our temporary home.

By Saturday afternoon, the four of us agreed our livers deserved another two-year gap between Pogues shows.