Fans of The Pogues, please form a line behind me. Today we are here to meet Rum Runner, the pride of Albert, British Columbia. Four young men from western Canada who know how to bash their way through a fine collection of Irish-inflected punk rock songs about guns and gin and sweethearts and going home. The drummer sounds like he’s trying to destroy his kit, the singer sounds like he’s long since destroyed his vocal chords, and the guitars do their best to keep up. It could be a total disaster; in fact, it often sounds like things are just about to go completely out of control. But somehow they never quite do. Listening to Guns at Cyrano’s is kind of like riding a roller coaster with just a bit of a whiskey buzz, sharing shots from the flask of a smelly little guy with no front teeth who tells the best stories since my Uncle Bill. I don’t exactly what that means, but I know I like this record a whole bunch.