I adore The Waterboys. This is one of those shows where just being in an artist’s presence guarantees it will be good, because I’m just so happy to see this incredible band. So, for me and my friends at the Beanfield, anything else was gravy. I’m choking on gravy — somebody gurgle gurg…
The evening began with Anna Tivel, whose smoky, tender vocals immediately established an intimate atmosphere that would prove perfect preparation for the main event. Her understated delivery, punctuated by punchy vibrato trails, evoked comparisons to the best of Americana’s leading voices — somewhere between Emmylou Harris’s crystalline emotion and Cat Power’s whispered intensity. Backed by Sam Duggar on guitar and Mike Mullins on drums, the trio created a sound that blended seamlessly, like Gomez or Yo La Tengo at their most cohesive.
Unaware of any opener, I was pleasantly surprised with Anna Tivel, whose smoky, tender vocals harkened to Emmylou Harris as well as Joni Mitchell — but of course, with her own down-to-earth fingerprint. Backing Anna were Sam Duggar on guitar and Mike Mullins on drums. Together, they created a sound like Gomez or Yo La Tengo instrumentally.
The highlight of Tivel’s set was “Outsiders,” where her engrossing lyrics were elevated by a brilliant nylon-string guitar solo that transported me back to my childhood listening to Willie Nelson’s timeless Stardust album (which I still have a copy of — gotta get that Willie Nelson guy out there, people need to know). It was the kind of opening performance that doesn’t just warm up a crowd but genuinely prepares them for something special.
There was a noticeable gap between Anna Tivel’s set and The Waterboys, which I noted was full of classic songs with vocals expertly removed so many in the audience sang along. Notably, my concert companion Henning made a 12-course meal out of “I Am the Walrus,” which was impressive seeing as I just thought it was vaguely reminiscent of Sgt. Pepper’s, and usually I’m better at song games like that. Good job, Henningbone!
When The Waterboys finally took the stage, Mike Scott’s Celtic mystics emerged as a seasoned — but not weathered — ensemble featuring Famous James on honky-tonk piano, Angus Rostam on bass, Eamon Farris behind the kit, and the remarkable Brother Paul commanding the Hammond B3 as well as a keytar I refer to as “the White Thing.” This lineup brought both chops and a joyful sense of playfulness to Scott’s expansive and growing catalogue.
The setlist was a masterclass in pacing and emotional architecture. Opening with Willie Nelson’s “Me and Paul” immediately signaled this wouldn’t be a nostalgia trip but a living, breathing interpretation of songs that matter. The transition into “Glastonbury Song” felt like a homecoming, while “How Long Will I Love You?” demonstrated Scott’s ability to find the sacred and expansive even in the simple and small.
“Medicine Bow” showcased the band’s instrumental prowess before “Be My Enemy” delivered one of the evening’s most thrilling moments. The song’s driving energy had hints of Franz Ferdinand’s “Take Me Out,” and when it concluded with a snippet of The Rolling Stones’ “Bitch,” it felt like both homage and revolution. The crowd erupted at the end of the journey, spent from leaning into all the turns The Waterboys took us on.
The Dylan cover “Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door” and Berry’s “Roll Over Beethoven” served as bridges between eras, connecting classic rock’s foundation to The Waterboys’ own mythology. But it was “Fisherman’s Blues” that truly captured the evening’s magic — Scott’s voice weathered but strong, the band locked in perfect communion.
The centrepiece of the night was the performance of tracks from Life, Death and Dennis Hopper. This recent material proved that The Waterboys haven’t lost their edge or their sense of adventure. “Live in the Moment, Baby” opened this section with urgent vitality, while “The Tourist” featured Famous James delivering chorus vocals that recalled The Hollies’ haunting psychedelia. When he switched to steel guitar for “Blues for Terry Southern,” the moment was pure buttery caramel candy — sweet, rich, and impossibly smooth.
“Hopper’s On Top” lived up to its parenthetical “Genius” designation, while deeper cuts like “Letter From an Unknown Girlfriend” and “Ten Years Gone” showed Scott’s continued growth as a songwriter unafraid to explore life’s complexities.
Perhaps the most revelatory moment came during “This Is the Sea.” Introduced by saying “Life changes, songs change too,” rather than delivering the expected barnstorming anthem, this tour’s arrangement presented it as a meditative metamorphosis on maturity. The song breathed differently — more contemplative, more earned. It was the sound of a band that has lived these songs and found new meanings in them.
The regular set concluded powerfully with “Spirit” and “The Pan Within,” two songs that showcase different sides of The Waterboys’ expansive sound — the former’s driving rock energy, the latter’s mystical folk undertones.
But the encore! Oh, the encore was pure magic. “And a Bang on the Ear” brought the energy back up before “The Whole of the Moon” reminded everyone why this band has endured. But the evening’s most surprising moment came with an unexpected Prince cover — “Purple Rain” — where Brother Paul delivered a solo on his “White Thing” keytar that was nothing short of transcendent. It was the kind of musical moment that reminds you why live performance remains irreplaceable.
Throughout the evening, Scott proved himself a master curator of both his own catalogue and the broader American songbook. The Waterboys of 2025 are a band comfortable in their own skin, confident enough to reinterpret their classics and bold enough to bring new, incredibly vital material and shine the spotlight on it.
This was more than a teenage wish-fulfilment show for me. It was a reminder to grab the moment I’m in and give it a big kiss because there is beauty to be found if you look hard enough.
If I was to give one criticism — “The Whole of the Moon.” When Scott sits down to the piano for it, it loses a lot of the recording’s power. The simple act of moving from your centre-stage mic to the side-stage piano brought out and amplified numerous problems of the live version. In my humble opinion, you need to stand for a vocal like that, with the big spotlight. You’re already missing the horns of the original, now you’re missing the punch the singing has by being able to move and lift your body. So when the bandmates try and inch their way in to fill the space, it’s just awkward. A great live band playing the most recognisable of their songs should grow in that power, not peter out. Power, not peter.
I would still see The Waterboys again — and hopefully I will get the chance — because they are a classic band with many more than just that one song. 8/10
Mike Rogers
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