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The Waterboys: Fisherman's Blues

 A l b u m   D e t a i l s


Label: Ensign Records
Released: 1988.07.01
Time:
 54:37
Category: Pop/Rock
Producer(s): Vinnie Kilduff, John Dunford, Mike Scott
Rating: ********.. (8/10)
Media type: CD
Web address: www.mikescottwaterboys.com
Appears with:
Purchase date: 2000.03.07
Price in €: 5,99



 S o n g s ,   T r a c k s


[1] Fisherman's Blues (Scott/Wickham) - 4:23
[2] We Will Not Be Lovers (Scott) - 7:00
[3] Strange Boat (Scott/Thistlethwaite) - 3:05
[4] World Party (Hutchinson/Scott/Wallinger) - 4:00
[5] Sweet Thing (Morrison) - 7:09
[6] Jimmy Hickey's Waltz (Scott/Thistlethwaite/Wickham) - 2:05
[7] And a Bang on the Ear (Scott) - 7:28
[8] Has Anybody Here Seen Hank? (Scott/Thistlethwaite) - 3:15
[9] When Will We Be Married? (Traditional) - 2:57
[10] When Ye Go Away (Scott) - 3:41
[11] Dunford's Fancy (Wickham) - 1:01
[12] Stolen Child (Scott/Yeats) - 6:49

 A r t i s t s ,   P e r s o n n e l


MIKE SCOTT - Guitar, Piano, Drums, Hammond Organ, Vocals, Bowed Bouzouki

TREVOR HUTCHINSON - Bass, Bouzouki, Upright Bass
ANTHONY THISTLETHWAITE - Harmonica, Mandolin, Saxophone, Slide Mandolin
FRAN BREEN - Drums
NOEL BRIDGEMAN - Conga, Tambourine
JAY DEE DAUGHERTY - Drums
ALEC FINN - Bouzouki
JENNY HAAN - Choir, Chorus
VINNIE KILDUFF - Guitar
CHARLIE LENNON - Fiddle
RODDY LORIMER - Trumpet
PETER MCKINNEY - Drums
MARTIN O'CONNOR - Accordion
DAVE RUFFY - Drums
STEVE WICKHAM - Fiddle
KEVIN WILKINSON - Drums
RUTH NOLAN - Choir, Chorus
COLIN BLAKEY - Flute, Piano, Horn
BRENDAN O'REGAN - Bouzouki

PHIL THORNALLEY - Remixing
PAUL COBBOLD - Mixing
PATRICK MCCARTHY - Engineer, Mixing
JOHN DUNFORD - Mixing
PHIL TENNANT - Mixing
JOHN GRIMES - Engineer
PEARSE DUNNE - Engineer, Mixing

 C o m m e n t s ,   N o t e s


The three-year wait forth is record has been worth every second. The Waterboys is singer-songwriter Mike Scott, with a variety of recruits and sidemen that ebbs and flows with each record. This time around he's come up with a combination that works better than ever before; they've been together a while, and they're showing a cohesiveness that comes with familiarity. Fisherman's Blues is a swirling, spiritual mix of tunes and stories in the tradition of Bob Dylan and Van Morrison (there's even a loving cover of Van's "Sweet Thing" here) with the unmistakable imprint of Ireland's great iconoclasts. The chief break from past efforts here is that the big production anthems have been replaced with softer, more focused epics that allow for new discoveries with repeated listening. One track, "World Party" (co-written with Karl Wallinger before he left this band to form one of his own with that name), does recall the past with a swaggering piano line leading the way. Showing Scott's devotion to traditional roots, the evocative title track and the soaring "We Will Not Be Lovers" both feature the scruffy mandolin of Anthony Thislewaite and the slinky fiddle of Steve Wickham. More adventurous is "The Stolen Child," a W.B. Yeats poem set to music with enchanting results. And don't miss "Has Anybody Here Seen Hank?", a rockin' take on the legend of Hank Williams.

CMJ New Music Report, © 1978-1999 College Media Inc. All rights reserved



Mike Scott führt die Waterboys in seine schottische Heimat zurück. Doch statt angestaubtem Folk ertönt ein putzmunterer Reigen. Die Fiddle ächzt zum stürmischen Mandolinen-Rock ("We Will Not Be Lovers") und auf dem Tanzboden dreht sich alles ausgelassen im Kreis: Folk-Rock der Sonder- klasse.

© Audio



Der Mann hatte den Blues. Nach seinem letzten Album "This Is The Sea" tauchte Mike Scott für drei Jahre unter. Trotz guter Kritiken und großar- tiger Konzerte im Vorprogramm von U2 sah er mit seiner Band Waterboys kommerziell kein Land. Folkwürzige Popmusik sprach damals noch kein großes Publikum an. Doch jetzt, wo die Klampfen-Stars aus dem Boden schießen wie das Korn in den schottischen Highlands, ist die Zeit reif für den Hochland-Poeten Scott. "Fisherman's Blues" leitet im rechten Moment die Rückbesinnung der Waterboys auf ihre musikalische Wurzel ein: den Folk. Nicht ohne Grund bezeugt Mike Scott dem Iren Van Morrison mit dessen Hymne "Sweet Thing" seine Verehrung und geizt nicht mit Anspielungen auf Bob Dylan und den amerikanischen Folksong. Und wo sich bei anderen Rock- Produktionen namhafte Keyboarder und Studiogitarristen um die besten Plätze auf dem Cover streiten, verweisen die Waterboys schlicht auf Fiddle, Akkordeon, Bouzouki und Mandoline. Songs wie das melodisch- verspielte "Dunford's Fancy" oder "When Ye Go Away" wecken unweigerlich Erinnerungen an Bill Forsyths Kultfilm "Local Hero": dunkelgrüne, dicht bewachsene Hügel, an denen kleine Häuschen kleben, einsame Schafe, die dem Abend entgegendämmern, nebelgraue Wolkenberge, die sich am Horizont auftürmen. Mittendrin steht Mike Scott, zupft sich das lederne Etwas auf seinem Kopf zurecht und packt die akustische Gitarre aus. Vom ungestümen Vorwärtsdrang früherer Waterboys-Alben ist da nicht mehr viel übrig- geblieben. Und doch zählt das rauhe, elektrifizierte "We Will Not Be Lo- vers" zu den besten Songs auf "Fisherman's Blues" - neben "World Party", das Mike Scott seinem ehemaligen Tastenmann Karl Wallinger zu verdanken hat. Daß 1988 das Jahr des Akustik-Revival war, von Tracy Chapman bis zu den Hothouse Flowers, wird niemand ernsthaft bestreiten. Ebenso fest steht: Der Dezember gehört den Waterboys.

© Stereoplay


Mike Scott had been pursuing his grandiose "big music" since he founded the Waterboys, so it came as a shock when he scaled back the group's sound for the Irish and English folk of Fisherman's Blues. Although the arena-rock influences have been toned down, Scott's vision is no less sweeping or romantic, making even the simplest songs on Fisherman's Blues feel like epics. Nevertheless, the album is the Waterboys' warmest and most rewarding record, boasting a handful of fine songs ("And a Bang on the Ear," the ominous "We Will Not Be Lovers," "Has Anybody Here Seen Hank?," and the title track), as well as a surprisingly successful cover of Van Morrison's breathtaking "Sweet Thing."

Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All-Music Guide
 

 L y r i c s


FISHERMAN'S BLUES

I wish I was a fisherman
tumbling on the sea
far away from dry land
and it's bitter memories
casting out my sweet life
with abandonment and love
no ceiling bearing down on me
save the starry sky above
with light in my head
and you in my arms

I wish I was the brakeman
on a hurtling fevered train
crashing a-headlong on into the heartland  
like a cannon in the rain                  
with the beating of the sweepers
and the burning of the coal
counting the towns flashing by
and the night that's full of soul
with light in my head
and you in my arms

tomorrow I will be loosened
from the bonds that hold me fast
with the chains all hung around me
will fall away at last
and on that fine and fateful day
I will take me in my hand
I will ride on the train
I will be the fisherman
with light in my head
you in my arms


WE WILL NOT BE LOVERS

You just stepped into the maintrack
climbed down off the fence
words are your weapon
lies are your defense
I know what you want
and I see what you see
you're looking for somebody
but he isn't me
find yourself another - we will not be lovers

now your eyes are like torches
and your presence is bliss
I never knew time
could speed and zip like this
the touch of your flesh
is tough to resist
planets collide, collide, collide
at the smack of your kiss
but you can kiss your brother, because we will not be lovers,
no!

now you're pulling down curtains
sparking old flames
causing disturbance
crying forshame
rapping on doors
abusing my name
casting out doubt
throwing (???) blame
but you can throw it at your mother

because we will not be lovers

now the world's full of trouble
and everybody 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


STRANGE BOAT

We're sailing on a strange boat
heading for a strange shore
We're sailing on a strange boat
heading for a strange shore
Carrying the strangest cargo
that was ever hauled aboard

We're sailing on a strange sea
blown by a strange wind
We're sailing on a strange sea
blown by a strange wind
Carrying the strangest crew
that ever sinned

We're riding in a strange car
we're followin' a strange star
We're climbing on the strangest ladder
that was ever there to climb

We're living in a strange time
working for a strange goal
We're living in a strange time
working for a strange goal
We're turning flesh and body
into soul


WORLD PARTY

well it's got nothing to do with anything that is real
you just believe in it and it's true
you can soothe like an angel or sigh like a saint
you can dream it and see it through

you will live to see a sea of lights
sparkling on the face of a pearl
find [climb??] your own beat
find a new streak
get yourself along with the world party party

now you can build for yourself a cool place in the sand
and you think it's [??] it's mighty fine

you've got dust in your eyeballs
you've got mud in your mouth
but it's your head it ain't mine
i've got a madman of my own to contend with
cursing in the cave of my skull

turn the other cheek
find a new streak
get yourself along with world party party

now [but??] i've heard a rumor of a golden age
somewhere back along the line

maybe a dream that [i/was???] whispered
or heard it in a spell
it was something to do with the sign of the times
and the only thing that I remember
is the summer like a pretty girl

shimmers and shines
moving in time
shaking to the beat of the heart of the world party party.....

shaking to the beat of the...


SWEET THING

I will stroll the merry way and jump the hedges first
Drink the clear clean water thought it quench my thirst
And I will watch the ferry-boats and they'll get high
Against the clear ocean against tomorrow's sky

And I will walk and talk in gardens all wet with rain
And never ever ever ever get so old again

Ooh...
Sweet thing
I ya ya ya...
Sweet thing
My my my...

I will drive my chariot down your streets and cry
"Hey, it's me! I'm dynamite and I don't know why"
And you will take me warm in your arms again
And I will not remember that I ever felt the pain

And I will walk and talk in gardens all wet with rain
And never ever ever ever ever get so old again

Ooh
Sweet thing
Yeah yeah yeah...
Sweet thing
My my my...

I will raise my arms up into the night time sky
And count the stars there shining in your eyes
Just to dig it all an' not to wonder,
that's just fine, that's just fine, that's just fine
And I'll be satisfied not to read in between the lines

And I will walk and talk in gardens all wet with rain
And never ever ever ever ever ever ever get so old again

mmm...
Sweet thing
ta ta ta...
Sweet thing

Sugar-baby...Sugar-baby...Sugar-baby
with a saint-like smile and a beautiful man and your champagne eyes

Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take this broken wing and learn to fly
All your life you were just waiting for this moment to arrive
Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take your sunken eyes, learn to see
All your life you were only waiting for this moment to be free
You were only waiting for this moment to be free
You were only waiting for this moment to be free
You were only waiting for this moment to be free
You were only waiting for this moment to be free...


AND A BANG ON THE EAR

Lindsay was my first love  she was in my class
I would have loved to take her out but I was too shy to ask
The fullness of my feeling was never made clear
But I send her my love with a bang on the ear

Nora was my girl when I first was in a group
I can still see her to this day, stirring chicken soup
Now she's living in Australia working for an auctioneer
But I send her my love with a bang on the ear

Deborah broke my heart and I the willing fool
I fell for her one summer on the road to Liverpool
I thought it was forever but it was over within a year, oh dear
But I send her my love with a bang on the ear

The home I made with Bela became a house of pain
We weathered it together bound by a ball and chain
It started up in fife, and ended up in tears
But I send her my love with a bang on the ear

Chrystal was a rover from Canada she hailed
We crossed swords in San Francisco we both lived to tell the tale
I don't know now where she is but oh if I had her here
I'd give her my love with a bang on the ear

So my woman of the hearthfire, a harbour of my soul
I watch you lightly sleeping and I sense a dream that doesn't fold, like gold
You to me are treasure, you to me are dear
So I'll give you my love with a bang on the ear


HAS ANYBODY HERE SEEN HANK?

The widows are weeping and wailing
There's an almighty run on the bank
The rose deck'd coffin
is ready to roll
Has anybody here seen Hank ?

He'll be sure to be wearing a stetson
He's as long and as thin as a plank
He's got a fistful of charm
and a gun beneath his arm
Has anybody here seen Hank ?

He ain't in the back of a limo
and he ain't back home in his bed
He ain't in jail and he ain't out on bail
He ain't getting out of his head

I don't care what he did with his women
I don't care what he did when he drank
I want to hear just one note
from that lonesome old throat


WHEN WILL WE BE MARRIED?

When will we be married, Molly?
When will we be wed?
When will we be bedded in the same bed?
When will we be married, Molly?
When will we be wed?
When will we be bedded in the same bed?

You have your eye on Jimmy, Long Jimmy Lee
You have you eye of Jimmy, and a fine man he
You have your eye on Jimmy
But you'd better let him be
'Cause when you go, Molly-o
You'll be goin' with me

When will we be married, Molly?
When will we be wed?
When will we be bedded in the same bed?
When will we be married, Molly?
When will we be wed?
When will we be bedded in the same bed?

You have your eye on Johnny, Thin Johnny Fee
You have your eye on Johnny, and a fine man he
You have your eye on Johnny
But you'd better let him be
'Cause when you go, Molly-o
You'll be goin' with me

When will we be married, Molly?
When will we be wed?
When will we be bedded in the same bed?
When will we be married, Molly?
When will we be wed?
When will we be bedded in the same bed?

I made a black bow for your bonnie head
When will we be married, Molly?
When will we be wed?
I made a black bow for your bonnie head

When will we be married, Molly?
When will we be wed?
When will we be bedded in the same bed?
When will we be married, Molly?
When will we be wed?
When will we be bedded in the same bed?


THE STOLEN CHILD

Come away, human child
to the water and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.

Where dips the rocky highland
Of Sleuth Wood in the lake,
There lies a leafy island
Where flapping herons wake
The drowsy water-rats;
There we've hid our faery vats,
Full of berries
And the reddest stolen cherries

Come away, human child
to the water and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.

Where the wave of moonlight glosses
The dim grey sands with light,
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 fro we leap
And chase the frothy bubbles,
While the world is full of troubles
And is anxious in its sleep

Come away, human child
to the water and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.

Where the wandering water gushes
From the hills above Glen-Car,
In pools among the rushes
That scarce could bathe a star,
We seek for slumbering trout
And whispering in their ears
Give them unquiet dreams;
Leaning softly out
From ferns that drop their tears
Over the young streams

Away with us he's going,
The solemn-eyed:
He'll hear no more the lowing
Of the calves on the warm hillside
Or the kettle on the hob
Sing peace into his breast,
Or see the brown mice bob
Round and round the oatmeal-chest

For he comes, the human child,
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
From a world more full of weeping than he
    can understand

Come away, human child
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand...

 M P 3   S a m p l e s


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