Summary

I t’s time to get off the stage, but Ken Casey isn’t done talking to the union electricians yet. The Dropkick Murphys frontman has been sitting there for 29 minutes and counting, legs dangling off the side of the temporary fixture in the middle of a San Diego street, as he talks with the dwindling crowd on a warm September night. He’s taking selfies, shaking hands, and accepting union challenge coins, small metal disks commemorating the International Brotherhood of Electrical Workers’ 41st annual convention, where Dropkicks just performed.

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