Dicky Barrett doesn’t do hopeless. He’ll rail against war, inequality, and whatever America’s coughing up this week, but you won’t catch him waving a white flag. “That would be admitting defeat,” he says. “And I don’t want to be like that.”
Which is how you get While We’re At It, the final album in a trilogy the Mighty Mighty Bosstones didn’t quite mean to write—but definitely meant. “I knew from the beginning of Pin Points and Gin Joints that it was gonna be three records. I just didn’t tell anyone.” Ten years later, it’s a jagged but danceable arc of protest, perseverance, and Boston ska-punk grit. “I’ve got myself and I’ve got today,” Barrett says. “That’s a good place to start.”
It’s been a minute since the Bosstones were front and center in the cultural conversation—roughly 20 years if you go by the Clueless soundtrack, the Elmo Palooza Grammy, or your last mall ska sighting. But somehow, ska always seems to show up right when the world starts to buckle. “People say ska’s vintage,” Barrett says. “But then we played a festival in Long Beach, 30,000 people showed up, and it was Fishbone, the Specials, Less Than Jake… it felt right. People just wanted to dance to something smart.”
Smart and loud is exactly what the Bosstones have always done best—irresistible horns laced with barbed lyrics. While We’re At It opens with “Wonderful Day for a Race,” a deceptively peppy title that’s actually about the human race, delivered with winking sarcasm and a side of existential overthinking. “It’s something my dad used to say,” Barrett recalls. “‘It’s a wonderful day for the race—right, kid?’ And I’d start looking around for a marathon. He meant the human race. Then he’d laugh and disappear.”
He’s not kidding. This is the same guy who gleefully explains that covering “What the World Needs Now” wasn’t just timely, it was tactical. “It was the most appropriate statement we could make going into that record,” Barrett says. “Bacharach wrote it decades ago, and we’re still singing it like it’s a plea. That’s the frustrating part.”
The band’s activist streak isn’t a new thing. When their 1993 major-label debut Don’t Know How to Party dropped, they included a cover of “Tin Soldiers” by Stiff Little Fingers—a song about Northern Ireland’s political violence that eerily echoed the U.S.’s own descent into Gulf War-era madness. “We were driving through Kansas, listening to bombs on the radio, and heading to a punk show,” Barrett remembers. “It was surreal. And we thought: we need to say something.”
That inclination to say something has carried them for over three decades. “It’s weird,” Barrett admits, “because I don’t always do a good job explaining what the records mean. But they mean something. I get to say things on Bosstones records that I don’t want to add to or take away from.”
He’s especially proud of the trilogy, even if it took some convincing to get people to see the connective tissue. “I sent the other two albums to our publicist and said, ‘Just listen again. You’ll hear it.’” Apparently, it worked.
But Barrett’s also quick to undercut the gravitas with a one-liner or a Sesame Street callback. “It’s the 20th anniversary of our Grammy-winning zig-zag dance on Elmo Palooza,” he deadpans. “And the Count looked older than me back then, but hasn’t aged a day. I think it’s because he’s a vampire. Or maybe a puppet.”
Then there’s Clueless, the high school canon classic that helped a whole new generation two-tone their prom playlists. “People act like it’s a guilty pleasure,” Barrett says. “But it paid our taxes and let us keep touring. Zero shame.”
What’s next? Barrett shrugs. Maybe a 30th anniversary tour if someone reminds the band in time. “Our fans usually have to tell us,” he laughs. “Like, hey guys, did you know it’s been three decades?”
Whatever the milestone, Barrett will be the guy in the pinstripe suit, tie swinging, shouting hopeful anthems over a wall of brass and bounce. “As long as there’s hope,” he says, “there’s hope.”
Listen to the interview above and then check out "Wonderful Day For A Race" below!
