An Appointment With The Waterboys and Mr Yeats

The stars aligned, there may have been a crescent moon that night. The Waterboys were in town for the first time in Aotearoa New Zealand. You can wait a long time out here in the Southern Pacific to see a favorite overseas act.

This was one chance/one gig only/one night only. Come the date 21 January 2013, we were just down the road a piece to the big city gig, with Auckland a short car trip away. That afternoon we coasted the Kaimai’s, motored on through Matamata, and arrived in Auckland as the sun was setting. Just the one album playing on the car audio, released in 2011, it brought together two beloved artists of depth, poetry, and mysticism: W.B. Yeats, Irish poet (1865–1939) and Mike Scott’s Waterboys (1983-still going).

After checking into the Quadrant Hotel, we dined quickly at the O'Connell Street Bistro (Dublin connection noted), before dashing up the road and across Queen Street to the Civic. A stunning former theatre palace resplendent in ornate Rococo design, decorated with Indian elephants on the walls, gold and green wonderment all about. This was the setting to see a band beyond compare. No support act and the band were on stage playing the first song … as we were ushered to seats high above the stage.

I can recall the first time I became aware of Yeats; it was high school with a set text: and the teacher’s choice of poem, ‘The Circus Animals’ Desertion’. An odd piece of verse for young scholars; entailing the need to grapple with the notion of an aging poet losing his artistic gifts. Which was somewhat wasted on youthful teenage ears and eyes, a long way from empathy of old age, when minds were brimming with dexterity and promise.

The power of the words though resounded off the page, the die was cast, this was a mystic poet of immense imagination and talent. My attention was gained. Later at University it was the solemn majestic power of ‘Easter, 1916’ which neatly enjoined my interest in political history and poetry with the signature couplet: ‘All changed, changed utterly: A terrible beauty is born.’ This cemented it, the poet for me.

Likewise I can recall my first association with ‘The Waterboys’, in the early 1980's and their second album ‘A Pagan Place’, where the pastoral romance of a ‘Church Not Made With Hands’ merged with the political commentary of soldiers returning home, not as communist heroes to Stalin’s Soviet Union in ‘Red Army Blues’ but as contaminated Western liberal democrats. Here too was a writer of depth and perception. Then of course came ‘The Whole of the Moon’ in 1985, and the world slowly catching on to a major talent in the song-writing canon. Just three albums in though, Scott had climbed some early peaks, but sought a different trajectory for his vision. In seemingly the blink of an eye, and a portent of future arrangements, that band that had reached for such heights, all to quickly disassembled in London. Only to be reassembled in Ireland as the raggle taggle band that camped out in Spiddal House, Galway, and delivered an Irish mischief masterpiece ‘Fisherman’s Blues’ in 1988. Meeting my sweet thing, we soon found a bond with this album and it mix of Celtic lore and romanticism. This was their mid-career high, and the rest of the world was now fully aware of a modern mystic poet in the guise of a rock band leader.

For me the years went by, other distractions came and went, I remained an unfaithful and occasional fan of both artists. Mike had retired the Irish band, relocated to New York, released some interesting solo records, including the intimate and deeply passionate, acoustic ‘Bring ’Em All In’ during 1995. In the 2000’s they were a band again, and by 2011 social media and the internet were ever present, letting me know that two of my worlds were twining in Dublin for something special. Mike Scott had been busy working some of the poetical lines of W.B. Yeats into the big music to uplift those sublime lines to even greater heights. In addition to drum, guitar, and fiddle, there would be piano, keys, horns, flute, and more, but above all Mike’s own Celtic vocal backed with ethereal singers in support. On paper/read digitally, it was ambitious and audacious. Could it be done?

Upon first playing ‘An Appointment With Mr Yeats’ there is a near 10 second pause/intro as the instruments enter one by one, building an atmosphere, building to a light beat, there are flourishes and refrains from the musicians, until at one minute, the first vocal and sung lines assure you, WB’s lines are in very good hands. That first piece, ‘The Hosting of the Shee’, gives way to a musical and poetical tour de force. The songs move through Yeats and his range of mysticism, Irish folklore, classical characters, romance, eternal love (White Birds), Irish history and politics. Until finally the mournful last things of ‘Let the Earth Bear Witness’ and ‘The Faery’s Last Song’, sign off an album that in no better words than Yeats’s should signal the farewell: ‘Soon shall our wings be stilled/and our laughter over and done’.

The album delivered well beyond its promise, and as much as I wanted to see ‘The Waterboys’ live playing any songs, from any of their past incarnations, if I could hear one or two songs from that album, it would be beyond a night to truly remember. The band that toured ‘An Appointment …’ to widespread critical acclaim in Europe, with the additional instrumentation and vocalists to do the studio album justice live, would not be travelling to Australasia; and had evolved into a regular Waterboys line-up of guitar, drum, fiddle, bass and keys. What followed that night live and that first song was a two-hour romp and stomp through the impressive Waterboys canon, underpinned by flourishing keys, a thumping drummer and both solid and bold bass playing. Sometimes you forget the might and roar of a rock band playing live and the visceral effect on the audience and you. We rocked with ‘This is the Sea’, and ‘Fisherman’s Blues’, cooled down for acoustic guitar and virtuoso fiddle sets, and then ascended into the other world of W.B. Yeats for an interlude of the Appointment songs. Rapturous playing, fiddle and guitar locked into the unique Wickham and Scott duo of four and six string magic. When the band paused and looked up, they appeared genuinely stunned by the audience reaction, we had been a long time awaiting, and they relayed the warmth by responding with an encore of ‘The Whole of the Moon’ reaching higher and higher. A night of song & verse; love & loss; politics & tragedy; mysticism & romance; again it is best to leave the last words to Yeats on what was just one night only/one gig only: ‘So let us dance on the waves/Let us dance in the sun’. The Waterboys were done.

Here is a taste of that band five days later at the Sydney Opera House:

Later in the year playing one of the Appointment songs:

On Spotify the album: