SOMETHING ABOUT THE WATERBOYS

SOMETHING ABOUT THE WATERBOYS

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Dave DiMartino

Suppose for just a moment there was a fellow who named his band the Waterboys because “a Waterboy was something fluid and ever-changing” and also because it was part of a lyric (“And I am the Water Boy, the real game’s/ Not over here”) from Lou Reed’s Berlin. And suppose he used to be in a couple of other bands, too, called Funhouse and The Red And The Black.

One need not know the complete works of the Stooges and the Blue Oyster Cult to ascertain a pattern here. Compound these facts with yet another: that this same fellow, a Scotsman, would go out of his way to ask Lenny Kaye to produce him.

His name is Mike Scott, and he is The Waterbcffl He is sitting across from you in a small hotel room, one early Saturday morning, arid you’ve just mentioned that pattern.

“I was really into American groups, ’round about 1976 and ’77,” he graciously explains. “Television, the Patti Smith Group, they were my two favorites. Richard Hell & The Voidoids. And I was fascinated by alt this New York lore, the whole scene. CBGB’s, and all that. And I liked Lou Reed and the Velvet Underground. It’s all just stuff I liked, and I drew 'inspiration from it. I guess the number of bSnhections that you just mentioned—it’s a bit too many. Maybe I’ve been a bit careless.”

You tell him you think it’s sort of neat.

“It’s just too neat,” he responds. “Just too neat.”

For kicks, you become me for the rest of this article.

Yes, I remember buying the first Waterboys s ingfiinj hink I got it

It’s about time I wrote a bunch of ai great songs. The songs I’ve been writim are good, ut they’re Mike Scott

b^lOTsepeJp&g^^layei from the Only Ones was-ffrltand I had some money. Maybe I just liked the cover. But it had a song on it—“A Girl Called Johnny”— that was catchy, a potential hit, and it was about Patti Smith. Go listen to Horses. So I bought the album, The Waterboys, which was inconsistent but heck, it really grew on me. For months I tried to figure out who Mike Scott, the lead singer, sounded like, and all I could come up with was Pearls Before Swine’s Tom Rapp. He sounds nothing like him at all, of course; I was nuts.

But in 1984, the Waterboys released another album, A Pagan Place. It sounded much more cohesive, and boasted their best song to date, ‘‘The Big Music,” which sounds like the sort of thing someone who’d just had a nervous breakdown or religious experience would write. And get this: the band would soon appear in Detroit, of all places, opening up for U2 and the unforgettable Bono. That night, the dozen or so people in the audience with philosophy degrees were stunned by one special irony: the Waterboys, as opening act, performed a song called ‘‘I Will Not Follow,” while U2, who followed, remarkably performed ‘‘I Will Follow.” Such open defiance could mean but one thing: a new album, This Is The Sea, would follow in late 1985. And, logic be damned, indeed it did.

Thus Mike Scott, friendly fellow that he

is, sits across from me andjells me he likes the new album b^^f all.

‘‘You see, this is rpall| the first record we’ve made sincejfee Waterboys became a working band,';*says he. ‘‘Before that, we only existed in studios. And the first two records are both made under the same circumstances, which was that I would write three or four songs, go into the studios and record them, and a few weeks later or a few months later, I’d write some more and go back in. In between times, I would just be writing or having fun, or we’d be touring. And each LP was a collection of the best I’d done in the previous year,”

So who are the other WaterbOys? Well, it’s weird. Mike Scott was always one; he sings, plays guitar and keyboards. Anthony Thisffethwiite has always been one, too, sort ^T He plays saxophone and fPRnmdM^u of the guy who plays on j3j0m Street,” but that wasn’t him, ^Stupid. Karl Wallinger popped up on A Pagan Place; he plays keyboards. All three of their pictures are on the back of This Is The Sea. Studio musicians play what remains—mostly esoteric instruments, trumpet, violin, drums. And in concert, they now have a violinist, a trumpeter, a drummer and bass player. When I saw them, it was Marco from Dirty Looks. Remember them? Good group.

Does Mike Scott think that’s a weird way to put together a band?

“It is odd,” he nods, “and we pay for

it, too—because we don’t have the strength that comes from being a group of people that got together because they had a similar vision. We were assembled one by one. It doesn’t make us as strong together.”

Perhaps it would be best to mention what the Waterboys sound like. Surprisingly, they do not sound like Lou Reed, Iggy & The Stooges, the Blue Oyster Cult, Lenny Kaye or the Patti Smith Group. Or Television or Richard Hell & The Voidoids. In fact, sometimes they sound like Van Morrison if Van Morrison wasn’t singing. Know what I mean? Especially the lyrics. Similarities in subject matters and lyrical themes: mountains, the sea, Old England, trumpets, spirit. You know, the inarticulate speech of the heart. And Mike Scott’s taken to performing “Sweet Thing” onstage Bfewetl. Obvious question: what does he think of Vanno’s latest Stuff?

“I know all his recent recofo^,” says Mike. “He seems to hit the m^pot about three times on each LP. Or two times. ‘Rave On, John Donne,’ ‘CeltieSwing,’ ‘Sense Of Wonder,’ they all priit the jackpot. ‘Summertime In England.’”

What do you listen to yourSelf?

“Him”

What else?

“Dylan.”

Still?

“Uh-huh. Oh, I love Bob Dylan.”

So what do you think’s happened to him over the years?

“He seems to be exploring himself unceasingly. Exploring... who he is. And vWffllng about it. I don’t like his new record much, but Infidels, you like that?”

Yeah.

“It’s really good, it really had a lot of fire. Some great words. The whole first side.”

One can’t help but notice some similarities between This Is The Sea’s “Be My Enemy” and the recently biographed one’s latter-day material; one also can’t help noticing that the Waterboys perform “Gotta Serve Somebody” in concert— for in fact they do, and if you’re there, you’ll see it. I did. But you’ll also see a damn fine band playing every Waterboys song better than it is on the record. You’ll see that Mike Scott, for all his influences, is really pursuing his own private muse— and few people are really, really doing that in 1986. You’ll find yourself thinking, By gosh, this Waterboys band may well evolve into one of the better bands of the ’80s, and here I am seeing them in their formative years in some small club. Where’s that damn beer I ordered?

“I feel good,” says Mike Scott, sitting in his hotel room. “But it’s about time I wrote a bunch of real great. The songs I’ve been writing are good, but they’re not great.” Next year? Watch out.