The Waterboys - Belasco Theater: A Review
/The Waterboys - Belasco Theater - October 15, 2019
My year of living musically most likely came to a close last Tuesday, October 15th, when I ventured to downtown Los Angeles to catch my final scheduled concert of 2019, The Waterboys at the Belasco Theater.
The Waterboys are a Scottish-Irish band fronted by singer-songwriter Mike Scott, who hit the height of their success back in the 1980’s, and at that time were poised to become the next big thing. As is often the case, due to a variety of reasons, the band never became the next big thing, but they have been churning out quality music for decades.
I had never really thought much about The Waterboys in my life and considered them a one hit wonder, with Whole of the Moon being the hit, until an Irishman enlightened me as to the band’s and Mike Scott’s virtues. Four years ago I was invited by my Irish immigrant friends Cuchuliam and his bride, the Rose of Dun Laoghaire, to see The Waterboys at the Fonda Theater. I was duly impressed by the band’s musicianship and the potency of their songs. Cuchuliam then loaned me his Waterboys catalogue of music and I was off to the races in becoming a Waterboys fan.
In the four years since our last jaunt to a Waterboys show, much water has passed under the bridge, but once again Cuchuliam and the Rose of Dun Laoghaire generously, and shockingly considering they both suffer from Short Arms-Deep Pockets Syndrome, gifted my companion, the irrepressible Lady Pumpernickle Dusseldorf, and I some tickets to catch the band live…this time in support of their new album Where the Action Is at the Belasco Theater.
Any time that I spend with Cuchuliam and The Rose is often trying. As longtime readers know, I loathe the Irish with the fury of a thousand suns and do not even consider them to be legally human. What makes Cuchuliam and The Rose all the more difficult for me to tolerate is the fact that they are immigrants and since coming to America have built a vast fortune by stealing jobs from Americans and exploiting our generous welfare state. You may be wondering why on earth I would be friends with such lowly creatures, and that is a valid question. The answer is that they are literally the only friends I have left. Everyone else I know hates me with even more passion than I hate the Irish, and thinks even less of me than I think of those Emerald Isle animals. Just as politics makes strange bedfellows, so to does being reviled and rejected by the world make strange friendships…hence my twenty year relationship with Cuchuliam and the Rose of Dun Laoghaire.
My evening with the Irish got off to a typically Irish start when Cuhculiam and The Rose arrived fashionably, but predictably, late to dinner at a swank downtown restaurant. The Irish are always at least a half hour late for anything and everything, which is why they are virtually unemployable…Cuchuliam and his addiction to the dole being living proof of that.
Also in keeping with Irish tradition, they arrived absolutely stinking drunk. They had no doubt been drinking all day, which should not be surprising since it was a Tuesday after all, but that didn’t stop them from consuming heroic amounts of alcohol while ordering and eating every type of potato the restaurant had on it’s menu.
The drink led these Irish hounds to be predictably talkative. I was then lucky enough to witness a debate between these two rosy cheeked leprechauns over which “ethnic” group was the worst. Mexicans fared the best in this debate because they '“invented Tequila”, which apparently goes a long way with the Irish. The other minorities did not fare as well, and were cursed up and down in between verses of “Danny Boy” and choruses of “Jesus, Mary and Joseph” and “Jesus weeps!”
After being asked to leave the restaurant, we navigated our way to the Belasco. The theater was about two blocks from the restaurant, which was good because I don’t think I could have carried my drunken Irish luggage any farther.
I had never been to The Belasco and was duly impressed by it. It is a gorgeous space with a high domed ceiling and exquisite crafted and ornamented walls. The space is not very big, but a perfect size for a show such as The Waterboys.
As we awaited the show, to no one’s surprise the Irish hit the bar. When they returned a stranger, who looked suspiciously Irish, approached and then hugged both Cuchuliam and The Rose. This stranger, Potato Man, was a long lost Irish friend who just like Cuchuliam and The Rose, had been sucking at the American teet for the last twenty years. They must have been passing out Waterboys tickets at the welfare office because besides Potato Man, Cuchuliam and The Rose, The Belasco was filled to the brim with Irish and Irish-wannabes.
The show started a little after 8 pm and the crowd greeted the band graciously. The Waterboys have had a variety of lineups over the years but their current members are Mike Scott (lead guitar and lead vocals), Steve Wickham (fiddle), Brother Paul (keyboards), Aongos Ralston (bass), Ralph Salmins (drums).
The show opened a little bumpy with Where the Action Is. The song was fine and the band sounded great, but the sound for Mike Scott’s vocals was off. There was a bit of an echo and it was terribly tinny. The vocal sound was sub-par for the first few songs but thankfully was subtly corrected and the rest of the show went without an audio hitch.
The band played two 10 song sets with a twenty five minute intermission in between them. The songs were solid and the band played with aplomb, but the show was a bit of a let down. There are some reasons that the show did not connect as much as my previous Waterboys outing four years ago did. The first is that Mike Scott was admittedly suffering from a cold, and thus his energy was a bit down.
Secondly, I think the tone of the show, which was fun and gregarious, does not fit the band’s catalogue. Scott is a deep and philosophical song writer who lyrically bares his soul and cuts himself and humanity to the bone. Fun is not his strong suit, whereas honesty, earnestness and genuineness are his strong suit.
The pacing of the show and the set list added to the feeling of disconnect. A sign of the show’s oddity was that for the last quarter of it a large and loud crowd gather on the other side of the bar, outside of the music space, and had a very raucous discussion, nearly drowning out the band and certainly distracting the audience. It was odd…but just another odd thing in a show that never totally came together.
The highlights for me, and there certainly were highlights despite the unevenness of it all, were Fisherman’s Blues, which is just a great song off a great album, as well as Medicine Bow, Whole of the Moon (the encore) and Salmins drum tribute to Ginger Baker, which was extremely well-done. All of the musicians throughout the show were impressive, most notably Brother Paul’s frenetic organ and Wickham’s volcanic fiddle.
The show ended around 10:30 or so and my date and I headed for the exits. When we last saw Cuchulain and The Rose of Dun Laoghaire, they were making out with a leather-clad, goth woman who may or may not have been Morrissey in drag. When they took a break from their make out session they spotted us across the room and gave us a big smile and wave. We waved back and headed to the car wishing we had more and better friends. But as my father used to say…wish in one hand and shit in the other and see which hand fills up faster.
As we hastily drove home through L.A. traffic, we reminisced about what a strange Irish night it had been…and how we wished we could see these wonderful, glorious, generous, vivacious and loving Gaelic vermin more often. If only.
SET LIST
Where the Action is
When Ye Go Away
Dunford’s Fancy
Fisherman’s Blues
London Mick
A Girl Called Johnny
Still A Freak
Nashville, Tennessee
Medicine Bow
Ladbroke Grove Symphony
INTERMISSION
Man, What a Woman
Rosalind (You Married the Wrong Guy)
Blues for Baker
We Will Not be Lovers
If the Answer is Yeah
Nearest Thing to Hip
November Tale
Morning Came Too Soon
In My Time On Earth
ENCORE
The Whole of the Moon
©2019