The Waterboys
A Rock In The Weary Land

An author not flattened by a style, not standardized, mixing panicked feelings with personal obsessions, fusing millennia-old suggestions with modernity... Every album is good for those curious to discover what Mike Scott is capable of, with or without his Waterboys, but few would be as suitable as this 2000 work, "A Rock In The Weary Land", marking the comeback of his 'brand' after more than a half-decade of productions under his own name.

Listen to the opening "Let It Happen", and tell me it's not at least necessary to discard the recent Stereophonics productions or at least reset their "Devil" from memory... The Atlantic wind, that element that enters the artists' souls and keeps them in a state of perpetual tension, can be heard in "The Charlatan's Lament"... The tragedy continues relentlessly in "Is She Conscious?", where the chorus's angry, anguished vocals don't lift the spirits, even of those naturally optimistic. Coldplay and company, learn for life.

Mike's voice is that of an old friend, an older brother, singing the most wonderful melodies, as in "We Are Jonah", Christian rock and tears of emotion dancing in a whirlwind of icy wind. The famous Waterboys' electric piano (which Keane will inherit-clone) sounds as though it were Clayderman. Whispers and sighs, acoustic and breaths, for two minutes of delicate sadness in "It's All Gone"... A piano that resembles "Karma Police", an approach similar to "Sowing The Seeds Of Love" by Tears For Fears, a gentle cello, a tough special section, an a cappella space, a finale among strings, guitars, and a gospel choir: these are the Waterboys, in the splendid almost-title track "My Love Is My Rock in The Weary Land". Easy listening? Not at all.

Scott's music isn't about changes in rhythm but about continuous layering-thinning/addensifying-dissolving/intensifying-attenuating... As a result, any electric piece could be reduced to the bone of acoustic and voice, just as the acoustic "Lucky Day/Bad Advice" could be electrified and lifted up to the sky. Wise in the less explosive episodes, Scott limits their duration to no more than two and a half minutes. A solution that also goes back to the old "Room To Roam" and the period of his infatuation with Irish music.

Theatrical blues with a pop chorus for "His Word Is Not His Bond", and yet another funeral march solo. "Malediction" features a medieval minstrel accompanied by a blues acoustic: a sort of Branduardi on a Willy DeVille basis. Perfect. In some passages, it resembles "Stairway To Heaven", but we know: many artists have let themselves be seduced by the historical suggestions in their music... Interesting, in "Dumbing Down The World", is the marriage of fluted and velvety keyboards with what is the hardest piece, the huskiest voice, and the deafest guitar on the record: domino pieces standing to outline an elephant.

The blues becomes the most played genre in cod fishers' inns with "The Wind In The Wires" (again and always the wind), and Mike Scott is a number one sex symbol for the cod salters in all the canneries of Scotland. Excluding the charming yet brief 50-second rock dance instrumental in "Night Falls On London", let's move on to the medieval brass that introduces "Crown", obviously the epic rock episode of the record. The proclamation of a new conqueror is over a base of electric guitar without rhythm; then finally a long-awaited demonstration of absolute rock power. Then the brass, trumpets, and sax rise again... Mike can't manage to play rock without overflowing into rhythm and blues... Not that I mind, but it's been quite a while since we've heard such heavy guitars on his record... As for every album for "travelers inside and outside" that is respected, the conclusion is entrusted to the inevitable Anabaptist sermon. Here you are offered the compelling "My Lord What A Morning".

A work undoubtedly very inspired, by an author who loves pop rock but knows he's talented enough not to "limit" himself to pop rock. Although still (and always) influenced by the music and landscapes of his lands, as well as by the god Van Morrison, Mike Scott returns as a real Waterboy and delivers excellent tracks, capable of capturing the novice as well as thrilling the longtime fan. He filters his electric ballads with a vein of graveyard sadness, not resting on cliché styles, yet remaining true to himself, except perhaps in the initial (but superb) blues-rock of "Let It Happen".

Beautiful album. Just a piece of advice: to fully appreciate it, you shouldn't just listen to it, and nothing more...

You need to "immerse" yourself...