Getting Down With the Saw Doctors
The following article appeared in the Hampshire Life section of the Hampshire Gazette (Northampton, MA area) on 8/13/99.
I am not a music fanatic.
My CD collection has many of the same names that my record collection has: James Taylor, Bruce Springsteen, Carole King, Rod Stewart, with some Tracy Chapman and B52s mixed in. (I'm not totally stuck in the dark ages.) If my husband, David, decides to stop into a used CD store looking for something by his latest favorite, you'll probably find me sitting on the steps outside making a grocery list.
The radio station I listen to in my car and on Sunday mornings, WRSI-FM "The River", plays an eclectic assortment of local and lesser-known artists. I like it as much for what it doesn't play, those annoying, dreary, furious songs that I hear on MTV when one of my teenagers has the remote. It's not that I don't like music, it's just that I like what I like and can't be bothered with anything else. (Sound familiar, Dad?)
I can count on both hands the number of musicians that I have seen perform in concert during the last 20 years. There are a few artists that I have seen more than once: Bruce Springsteen at The Worcester Centrum and the RDS in Dublin, James Taylor at the Mullins Center and Tanglewood, Loudon Wainwright III at the Iron Horse, Bob Dylan at Symphony Hall and the Mullins Center, and the Saw Doctors at Boston's McGann's, The Paradise and The Roxy, Holyoke's Waterfront, three times at the Iron Horse and the last time at Pearl Street in Northampton. Yes, the same band seven times. We must be groupies.
The only other time I had been to Pearl Street was to see Warren Zevon. We were left standing in sub-freezing cold long past the time when the ticket said we should be inside howling to "Werewolves of London". When we finally got inside and thawed out, I spent the rest of the night trying to protect my little square of floor from large, staggering men and a woman with really, really long hair, who, just in case I didn't notice how long it was, kept flinging it in my face. The atmosphere was lousy and the music just wasn't worth it. David didn't think it was so bad but, I vowed I'd never go there again. But, Pearl Street has a new owner and the Saw Doctors were scheduled to play to a sellout crowd. I broke my vow.
There aren't many bands that will get me outside on a weeknight. But,when Ireland's Saw Doctors are in town, you'll find David and me at the front of the line. We'll be with our friends, a couple of fanatic fans who took us to our first Docs concert four years ago, out on the sidewalk, two hours before the doors open.
At 6 this night, there's one fanatic friend, me and a grandmother who drove all the way from North Truro to see the Docs again. She brought her own chair so she can sit right up front. Our husbands have gone in search of some food and by the time they get back we have been joined by a couple we remember standing in the pouring rain with last spring outside of the Waterfront. They saw the Docs perform in Ireland and we want to hear all about it. David and I aren't the only people our friends have turned into Saw Doctor fans and every few minutes someone stops by to make sure that they are at the front of the line. For a few minutes we all chat about when and where we have seen the Docs, which tunes on "Songs from Sun Street", the band's latest CD (Paradigm Records), are their favorites and what the "lads" have been up to on their latest tour. By 7:30 it's getting a chilly and our little clan has turned into a long line. They only make us wait a few more minutes before the doors open. We head right to the stage and stake out our spot in front.
The Great Big Sea, from Newfoundland, opens the show. They play a few Celtic-flavored songs and some of their own.music. They are easy to listen to and play just long enough to get the crowd warmed up. As soon as they finish, people start yelling for the Docs.
Travelling from County Galway in the West of Ireland, the Saw Doctors sing joyous, rousing songs about small towns, love, winding roads, rainy days, festivals, church, soccer, friendship, politics, loneliness, winning and losing, hay baling, and hope. The stuff that makes up a life. Their music and lyrics will have you laughing ("I'd Love to Kiss the Bangles") or stomping your feet ("We've Got Michael D Rocking in the Dail Tonight"). Some of it will make your heart ache ("Life's too short for loneliness that we don't have to be") or beat a bit faster ("We'll take our clothes off in the moonlight, skinny-dipping hand in hand").
When the Docs take the stage, I notice that the security staff, young men with their arms folded across their chests and bored looks on their faces, isn't paying any attention to the band or the music. I suppose they would rather be listening to the ska bands playing downstairs.
Not me. For the next few hours, I am lost in the music. The lads sound lovely tonight. They are enjoying themselves but staying focused. They start with "Exhilarating Sadness" and play most of my favorites: "Green and Red of Mayo", "Red Cortina", "To Win Just Once", "Clare Island", "N17". We sing along with almost every song and I even sing out loud -something my children asked me to stop doing as soon as they could talk. The only jostling I get is from my friend playing percussion on my back while Leo Moran sings "Wanna Play My Guitar?" They don't play two of my favorites "The Simple Things" and "Best of Friends" but, when they end the night with "Hay Wrap", a crowd favorite, I notice one of the security guys is clapping his hands and waving his fist with the rest of us.
It's 1 AM when we finally get into bed. My feet are sore, my eyes are tired but I can't sleep. Music and lyrics are spinning around in my head:
When the spirits they need a risin'/to be happy, proud and strong/it's time to sing, it's time to sing/sing a powerful song.
The Saw Doctors sing a powerful song. They'll be back on Friday, August 13, to play at the Pines Theater at Look Park as part of the Luck of the Irish Festival. Why not join me? I'll be the one at the front of the line.