Melody Maker - October 22, 1988

THE WATERBOYS
FISHERMAN'S BLUES

Ensign/Chrysalis

JUST where do you begin? With the three year abscence? The re-location in Ireland? The numerous personnel changes? The fact that Mike Scott, a latter-day genius, constantly refuses to abide by the music business's self-set rules in any way, shape or form? Or maybe just the simple fact that "Fisherman's Blues", with its unlikely cover, its slightly misleading title and its "home-made" stamp of quality is quite simply the finest album of this, or perhaps any year.

When the last Waterboys album "This Is The Sea" was released back in September '85, The Young Gods were mere cherubs, the seeds of "The Joshua Tree" had yet to be planted and Billy Mackenzie was only in this third come-back. It's been quite a while. “This Is The Sea” was followed by a UK tour which culminated in a truly horrible, messy, overblown and almost heavy metal gig at The Town & Country. By this point Mike Scott was painfully aware that he was in danger of losing it. In interviews at the time he spoke of going to move to New York in search of fresh inspiration. The warning bells grew louder. Then Scott was invited over to Galway by the (then) new recruit Steve Wickham. And he never came back.

That move across the water is perhaps the most significant event in The Waterboys' seven year history, and its repercussions permeate every song, every groove, every spine tingling blissful instant on this LP, when time just seems to stand back and take a breather. From the opening bars of the title track to the final fading piano chords of "Stolen Child"—a poem by Galway's other famous adopted son, WB Yeats, and set to music by the band.

Scott recently intimated to a friend that, after years of searching he'd finally found what he wanted in Galway. "And I don't want to lose it again by returning to London," he said. Certainly, "Fisherman's Blues" wouldn't have been the same if it been recorded anywhere else. The ridiculously long list of thank-you's - I gave up at 200), and the roll call of guest musicians (slightly less - but only just) bear that out. This is very much a family affair and the Irish are renowned for having big families.

Also, Scott's determination to work in what he terms "real time", as opposed to "music business time", is an admirable trait. Had he followed the accepted blueprint and toured "This Is The Sea" into the grave then followed it with a mini-live LP of the same, The Waterboys would very probably be chasing U2’s tail around the American stadia circuit right now. Instead, according to the last snippet of infomation escaping from the camp, they’re lining up an unannounced series of low-key gigs in pubs around Scotland and Ireland.

So where do we begin? if you're looking for a convenient and ready-made reference point, it's probably safe to say that, out of the three Waterboys LPs released so far, in its rejuvenated soulful form, “Fisherman’s Blues” bears closest resemblance to their first album. The slightly mystical past masters like “Gala”, “Savage Earth Heart”, “December” and “Girl In The Swing” have been allowed a spiritual rebirth within the cushioned solitude of Galway’s Spiddal House.

“Fisherman’s Blues” is, on the whole, closer to the heart and thankfully lacking in the attendant techno-fuss which, although seemingly effective at this time, tended to obliterate the purity of much of “This Is The Sea”. There is no “production job” this time round. Scott even uses an electric piano rather than his customary grand. Apart from the obvious fact that it is better recorded, it is also a faithful recreation of the physical and emotional spirit captured in many of the versions of these songs on the numerous live bootlegs recorded at Irish pub gigs and village halls over the last two or three years. This in itself is a considerable achievement. The album sounds as if it was almost exclusively played LIVE. The sheer breath-taking drive and presence of players playing for the love of it and totally posessed by the nature of the music they're creating really is a joy to behold. The intimate level of intuition built up between them from night after night of jamming together is astonishing, almost psychic and it's nowhere better in evidence than on their version of Van Morrison's "Sweet Thing".

You can almost see them vault off without warning into mid-air as Scott begins to rap the Iyrics to The Beatles’ “Blackbird” at the end of the song, almost sense that they intuitively know what each other is going to play that split second before they actually do it, then marvel as they start to play tricks on each other, try to out play each other, and, because of their incredible closeness, keep it finely poised on the correct side of spontaneity and disaster.

Karl Wallinger's departure at the end of '85 and Steve Wickham's initiation into the fold just before that has subtly shifted the creative axis of the band from a Prince-like precision to a more Van Morrisonesque adventurousness. It's an instinctive thing and best shown again by Van's "Sweet Thing". Earlier Waterboys attempts to make the song their own were too exact, too studied, too tuneful even—the version on this LP plugs straight into the same current that fired the original and jolts along with a similar carefree idiosyncrasy. Likewise, their own "Strange Boat" sails a shared path, its spiritual sails flapping on the warm acoustic breeze.

Though he's not actually on the LP, Wallinger's influence is felt on one track, the last he co-wrote with Scott and ironically titled "World Party". It treads familiar ground - all jaunty piano chords and frantic scurries of violins.

In line with the musical shift, Scott's own language too has changed. Gone are the "trumpets, towers and tenements" and all the other inscrutable richly coloured William Blake imagery. Gone are the vibrant reds and yellows. The title track, “Fisherman's Blues”, displays an almost green hue. That said, the first of the LP's two epics, "We Will Not Be Lovers" is a thoroughly unpleasant blood-red affair. A savage chronicling of love-gone-bad, it's relentless and obsessive almost to the point of obscenity. The calm hatred of Scott's Iyrics are set sharply into an insistent almost mockingly triumphant violin riff that goes on and on, ripping the tissue from the wound with an occult intensity. Trevor Hutchinson's bass gurgles along like some two headed hell-hound, occassionally dragging itself up from the pit to growl momentarily as Scott's Iyrics drag you further and furtherdown into the frenzied bachanalia of it all.

"The world's full of trouble, everybody's scared/ landlords are frowning, cupboards are bare/ people are scrambling, like dogs for a share/ it's cruel and it's hard but it's nothing compared to what we do to each other/we will not be lovers," Scott sings, and by the end of it you almost feel unclean.

Like "Rags" from the second LP, it proves that despite the domestic bliss that seemingly pervades his day-to-day existence, Scott has a vindictive streak that can evoke the pain and bitterness of an incurably diseased relationship and then hold it under the naked flame of a torch until it curls up and melts into itself.

All of these songs on side one were recorded in U2’s studios in Dublin at the end of ‘86 and beginning of ‘87. In contrast, side two of “Fisherman’s Blues” was recorded at the beginning of this year and the end of last at Spiddal House in Galway. The material on side two is quirkier, less rigid and more open to whimsy and fancy, more Celtic in its outward appearance and more stoned and drunken in its inception.

“And A Bang On The Ear” is perhaps the most tongue-in-cheek Waterboys song to date. A chronicling of Scott’s past love affairs with jokes and Hammond organ and accordian solos. The tongue stays firmly planted there for the next song, too. "Has Anybody Here Seen Hank?" is, a boozy country and western attempt to rehabilitate Hank Williams' dreadful reputation as a womanising drunk. "I don't care what he did with his women, I don't care what he did when he drank/l wanna hear just one note from his lonesome old throat, anybody here seen Hank?"

"When Ye Go Away", which follows the band's interpretation of the old traditional "When Will We Be Married", is a solitary down-beat stoned ramble complete with slide mandolins and bouzouki playing from Alec Finn of the local Galway band De Danann.

If "And A Bang On The Ear" is the strangest title on the LP, then the other epic - "The Stolen Child" - is the strangest Waterboys song ever. A poem from WB Yeats’ “Crossways” collection, written in 1889, it's the first time the poet's estate has permitted one of his works to be set to music. The verse is intoned by Toma McKeown, a celebrated gaelic singer from Carraroe in Galway.

At first it seems almost gimmicky, taking you by surprise. By the second playing, however, the fullsome beauty of its message and the stunning accompaniment of Mike Scott's melody become wildly apparent. It could almost be Scott's own contented view of the world from his back garden in Galway.

"Far off by furthest Rosses we foot it all the night/ weaving olden dances/mingling hands and mingling glances/till the moon has taken flight/to and from we leap And chase the frothy bubbles/while the world is full of troubles/and is anxious in its sleep."

Because of his increasing reticence to court the media and the inordinate length of time between this LP and the last, it's all to easy to taint Scott with the tag of the serious self-analytical artist - an inevitable side effect when someone creates something that far exceeds the normal cash transaction of most record buying.

One thing's for sure though, however massive The Waterboys eventually allow themselves to become, Mike Scott will never be such public currency as, say, Bono or Springsteen. He's far too carefuly guarded with his actions, unwilling to explain his motives and lay them open to misinterpretation. His methods, as always, remain clear. And that's where understanding stops an something else takes over - to quote "Sweet Thing", "Just to dig it all and not to wonder, I'll be satisfied not to read in between the lines."

Scott acknowledges so little of the essentially meaningless and parasitical paraphernalia that has stuck like barnacles to pop's once shiny surface. For this I have an immense respect for him and the other Waterboys. Not the cloying empty respect of "the fan" (though I am one), but a considered admiration for someone who, just like Prince, plays their game on their own terms. In the end, of course, it breeds only a fleeting happiness -means that I get just one LP every three years and the chance to see them only slightly more regularly.
Still, some things are well worth waiting for, and "Fisherman's Blues" is definitely one of them.

MAT SMITH