Face to Face/Dropkick Murphys

In one corner slumps Face to Face, a perennially punchless contender for the mall-punk title. The trio’s lone original composition, “Fight or Flight,” throws a few timid hooks at its listeners, jabs them with irritating “whoa-oh” backing vocals and threadbare slogans, staggers gracelessly, then collapses in a flabby heap. Next, it rids the Dropkick Murphys’ “Road of the Righteous” of its minimal Irish-infused charm, replacing that Boston-based group’s genuine accents and authentic instrumentation (mandolin, bagpipes, accordion) with generic vocals and pedestrian power chords. Then, after limping through Stiff Little Fingers’ “Wasted Life,” Face to Face throws in the towel.

In the other corner, though, the Dropkick Murphys gets to fight back — unlike most artists who have heard Face to Face pummel their songs into unlistenable pulp (for a list of victims, see Standards and Practices, a covers album that disgraces everyone from the Smiths to INXS). But instead of assaulting “Blind” or “Disconnected” (two prize-winners from Face to Face’s brief mid-’90s prime), the Murphys drag CCR into the fray with a profoundly unfortunate version of “Fortunate Son.” During the debauched jig “The Dirty Glass,” the group also lands a haymaker on the cutesy face of guest vocalist Kay “Josie” Hanley, when one of its gruff vocalists calls her “bitch” after her sassy character protests that he spends most of his time in a drunken stupor. That below-the-belt shot lets the Murphys take this split decision. But given that even the victorious squad couldn’t muster a knockout, there should be no joy in dudville.