It seems every boyband (even the one accepted as the first) were formed in order to emulate the success of their predecessor(s) and to be the “new [insert boyband name here]”, and so it was with Ireland's first boyband, Boyzone. Formed by Irish manager and producer Louis Walsh, they were to be the answer to Take That, and were put together out of auditions of hundreds of singers over the period 1993-1994. Though there were changes to personnel, the final and “classic” lineup was as follows:
Ronan Keating
Shane Lynch
Stephen Gately
Mikey Graham
Keith Duffy
Boyzone would go on to be one of the biggest selling bands in Irish history, until the arrival of
their heirs, Westlife, who would blow all previous records out of the water. As I look out the grimy windows of the rattling bus making its way a hundred miles or so northeast to Boyzeire, I note that once again the landscape is changing. Seems to be something to do with climate control and high-definition graphics, but whereas it was sunny but a little foggy when we left Tak'Thatten, the sky has now completely clouded over and the rain is beginning to slant down as we head towards our next destination. Ah, Irish weather indeed! I almost feel at home!
Three seats down, two small men dressed entirely in green and with white beards shift in their places uncomfortably, perhaps aware of their size compared to the other passengers. One scratches the side of his nose and tilts his emerald top hat back a little, while the other hefts a heavy shilellagh and eyes the other occupants of the bus meaningfully, then extracts a pouch of tobacco, a pipe and tamps the material into the bowl. As he prepares to light it though, the bus driver announces in a tannoy address not directed specifically but meant for only him: GREEN STAR BUS LINES WOULD LIKE TO REMIND PASSENGERS THAT SMOKING OF ANY KIND IS FORBIDDEN ON THEIR SERVICES. THANK YOU.
The little man snarls at no-one in particular, stows the pipe and fishes out an ipod, whose buds he jams angrily into his ears, wincing, then leans back as the tinny sounds of Irish reels and jigs attempts to escape from his headphones, his black brogues tapping out the rhythm as he closes his eyes.
I shake my head at the idea of stereotyping, and note as the dawn gives way to the morning that the sky has now acquired a greenish hue. There are a lot more cows and sheep in the fields, and more than once we pass a slowly ambling gypsy caravan, brightly painted and going the opposite way, its driver hunched over the reins, face almost totally obscured by scarves, out of which a dirty trail of grey smoke curls into the morning air. Evidently, smoking IS allowed on gypsy wagons, I note.
After a while looking out the window, and with nothing else remarkable to see, I turn my attention back to the two little green men, and notice that the one listening to the ipod is flinching and grimacing as if not enjoying what he's hearing. I tap him on the shoulder and ask him what he's listening to. He tells me it's Irish trad (or traditional) music: “Ceilis (kay-lees) and sh
ite.” He looks very glum, and I ask does he enjoy that sort of music, in answer to which he shakes his head sadly. “Hate the feckin' stuff!” he says with feeling. “Still, ye've gotta listen to it. Part o' the job, y'see.” I enquire further and he enlightens me that he and his friend are both employed in Boyzeire as performing leprechauns. I smile that such things do not exist, and he favours me with a withering glance.
“Sure I know that, and you know that!” he snaps, having by now thumbed the pause button on his ipod, an action that has brought an expression of momentary relief to his craggy features. “But THEY don't, do they?” I ask who “they” are, and he grates “Feckin' tourists. They come here, expectin' to see a version of Ireland of the Welcomes, y'know, land of saints'n'scholars, an' all that? Doesn't exist, of course, but try tellin' THEM that! Me an' Freddie here (he indicates his companion needlessly) are employed at one o' the big ho-tels (he says the word hotel in two syllables, with the emphasis on the first) an' the money is grand, but ye got to know the music. They want ya to dance, an' sing, an' then they try to trap ye to get yer bag o' gold.”
I ask if he really has a bag of gold, to which he snarls “Now, don't ye think, lad, that 'twere the case I'd be sittin' on this heap o' rust, headin' for another six months o' humiliatin', demeanin' work? Have to work, lad, to keep body an' soul together, ye know? So we have to learn all this stuff by heart ---” Suddenly he pops out his earbuds, throws them at me and thumbs the play button, upon which I am assailed by the sounds of Tommy Makem and Liam Clancy singing about Gallipoli.
“Bloody skiddily-idle!” he says with feeling. “I'd rather be listenin' to Blue Oyster Cult, ye know? But there ain't much call for “Don't fear the reaper” (rahter unfortunately, his thick Irish brogue pronounces it "don't fair the raper"!) where we're goin', lessen it's played on tin whistle, harp and bodhran! Gah! Bloody tourists!” I hastily hand the “leprechaun” back his player and shake my head, returning to my seat. Perhaps I have not so bad a job after all!
The gentle swaying rhythm of the bus as it rocks along the road coupled with the humidity and the almost hypnotic patter of the rain on the windows lulls me into sleep, and I'm suddenly aware of someone shaking me. I look up into the bushy face of the “leprechaun” I had spoken to, what seems only minutes but must surely be hours ago. He grins. “End o' the line, bucko! Welcome to the land of the green!” As he makes his way to the door, lugging some flight cases in which surely must be his musical instruments, the tools of his trade, his companion already ahead of him and dragging similarly heavy cases, he tips his wide-brimmed hat and looks back with eyes that I swear sparkle.
“If'n ye get a chance while ye're here”, he says, “drop in to the Bertie Inn. Ask for Shamus, I'll see ye right for a Guinness.” He scowls, a cloud passing over his furrowed brow. “Course, it's not me real name, but ye've got ta play t' the gallery, don't ye?
Slan leat!” And with that Irish word of farewell he's gone, almost vanishing like a real leprechaun. I reluctantly pull my stuff together and struggle out of my seat, the last to disembark from the bus.
It's pouring rain (of course) and I hurry to the bus station, from where I catch a taxi to my hotel. All the way there the driver swears he knows Bono, and in fact had a tryout for U2 when he was younger. He also claims that he played for Shamrock Rovers but a leg injury cut short his career, and he's apparently also good friends with our president, Michael D. Higgins. I do my best to ignore him, some non-committal sounds and I busy myself with my laptop. It's not even switched on, but he doesn't need to know that.
Once at the hotel I check in, sort out my stuff and head to the nearest restaurant as I'm starving, then it's down to the library once again for another ten-hour shift. I read that the parents of Boyzone frontman Ronan Keating initially discouraged their son from joining the band, as he had a promising career as an athlete, and they believed he was throwing away a college education and a real chance to make something of himself for a pipedream. Wonder how they feel now?
Louis Walsh, of course, became famous as one of the resident judges on the X-Factor, and later went on to create and manage Westlife. Walsh retained tight control over Boyzone, almost like a domineering father, an attitude that would lead to a split between them later on in their career. I am, however, heartened to see that there is no huge statue of the impresario standing on a boyband as in the American part of this country: we Irish, even here, are less ostentatious. There are people we'll erect statues to --- James Joyce, Daniel O'Connell, Phil Lynott --- but Louis Walsh? Do me a favour!
Boyzone worked the club and pub circuit all over Northern Ireland during 1994, scoring an Irish hit with a cover of “Working my way back to you”, before they were eventually signed to Polygram and released their first album near the end of that year.
Said and done --- Boyzone --- 1994 (Polygram)
With early contributions to the songwriting by members of the band, the album opens with “Together”, a generic dancer with some nice keyboards and the boppy dancebeat that characterised Take That's first two, and most/all of Backstreet Boys and Nsync's material, but then there's a nice ballad in the shape of “Coming home now”, with an early attempt at a slow rap. Very soul-oriented, this is the first track on the album written by all the members of the band, though Ronan Keating did contribute to the opener. It's not bad, but for a ballad a little generic, kind of BSB in its style. Some nice vocal harmonies, but then you'd expect that, wouldn't you?
Their first cover then, the Osmonds' “Love me for a reason”, proved to be their breakthrough hit, smashing open the charts and making them a hot commodity not only in their native Ireland, but in the UK and Europe too. Another soul-style ballad follows, “Oh Carol” with another, far superior one in “When all is said and done”, this being another one written by the lads. Lovely Spanish guitar in this, and some nice piano. After three consecutive ballads, this is followed by a more uptempo track, another one written by the band, but “So good” is not quite that: it's okay, but a little weak and limp, returning to the empty dance rhythms plundered and used so much by boybands before, and after, Boyzone.
A sort of mid-paced soul ballad/popper then in “Can't stop me”, before “I'll be there” lifts the quality slightly with another mid-pacer, but better than the previous track. The big piano ballad is “Key to my life”, which scored them another top three hit, followed by another mid-paced half ballad written by composer Andy Hill, “If you were mine”, then they cover Sutherland Brothers and Quiver's “The arms of Mary”. Not a bad version, but it's a little hard to mess up. Bit too slow for my tastes. “Believe in me” is the last original on the album, a sort of pop half-ballad and the album closes with yet another cover version, which provided them yet another hit, Cat Stevens' timeless “Father and son”.
For a debut it's not bad, but draws too much on the style and influences of other boybands who have gone before them. There are also, to my mind, too many cover versions (three in all), but in their defence Boyzone started out writing a lot of their own material, similar to Take That, and so had a better chance of retaining some sort of control over what they put out.
TRACKLISTING
1. Together
2. Coming home now
3. Love me for a reason
4. Oh Carol
5. When all is said and done
6. So good
7. Can't stop me
8. I'll be there
9. Key to my life
10. If you were mine
11. Arms of Mary
12. Believe in me
13. Father and son
After the success of their debut album, Boyzone were now an established commodity, and any ideas that an Irish act could not follow the success of their UK and US counterparts was forever dispelled when they had their first number one single with a cover of the Bee Gee's “Words”, followed by another single just barely missing the top spot and charting at number 2, with Tracy Chapman's “Baby can I hold you”. After that, Boyzone performed live at the Eurovision and later Ronan Keating received an Ivor Novello prize for songwriting. The boys from the green stuff had arrived!
A different beat --- Boyzone --- 1996 (Polydor)
With a beautiful strings opening and nice backing vocals, “Paradise” opens the album with typical boyband sugar bombast, with Ronan now established as the band's main vocalist and frontman. It's a decent opener, somewhat more mature than the material on the debut, and features songwriting by some of the band, including Keating, who would become the band's main songwriter in addition to being their singer. The title track starts off on African/tribal beats, rather incongruously joined by a reedy vocal from perhaps Stephen Gately, hard to know as I don't really recognise any of the others. It acquires a kind of “Lion King” feel as it goes along, basically a ballad form with some hard drums, nice synth and some typically African-style instruments like maybe marimbas or something similar. Quite moving, actually.
Two covers follow, first is the “world anthem” called “Melting Pot”, which is all very well and good, but I don't really want to live in a world of multicoloured people! Following this is Michael Jackson's ode to a rat. Yeah, it's “Ben”, and it's as insipid as it was when Jackson sang it as a kid. Weirdly, whoever takes the vocal sounds very like the late King of Pop...
A real digital piano ballad follows, but I don't really find anything special about “Don't stop looking for love” --- could be sung by anyone from George Benson to Whitney Houston. Very generic. A little better is “Isn't it a wonder”, another single, another hit, a soul ballad before they launch into the big hit, their cover of Robin, Barry and Maurice's “Words”, which secured them their first number one record. It's good, but they take liberties with the verses I don't like, and I'm a fan of the original. “It's time” then comes across as a sort of reggae-lite song, bright and breezy with lively piano, while “Games of love” is more uptempo and dancy, but still listenable.
“Strong enough” is sort of their “Everybody (Backstreet's Back)”, a hard, funky dancer with handclap beats and stabbing synth, then “Heaven knows” is a nice little semi-acoustic ballad with soul overtones, pretty seventies but updated to the nineties. “Crying in the night” is a proper ballad though, with acoustic guitar and strings, then “Give a little” is a house/techno dance number that really just rips off early Take That, and the album ends on a cover of a classic traditional tune, the moody and atmospheric “She moves through the fair”. Arranged by Irish piano supremo Phil Coulter, it's bold, imaginative and with a very definite celtic air as oileann pipes and heavy drums set the tone, unfortunately when Ronan comes in he sounds distinctly ordinary, kind of ruining the atmos. For a proper version, check All About Eve's debut self-titled album. The arrangement is stunning though, and had it been an instrumental I would have given it a thumbs up no problem. Of course, had it been, it would be unlikely to have been on a Boyzone album.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8bX_L6odViI
So, no huge surprises then for their second album, but in fairness this has been the case for every boyband we have reviewed here. It always seems to take at least their third album before they come of age, as it were (although in the case of Nsync I'm not convinced that ever happened), so as Boyzone only released, to date, the four albums, I'm going to review them all here, and we'll see how they developed, if at all, as a band as the years and albums unfolded.
TRACKLISTING
1. Paradise
2. A different beat
3. Melting pot
4. Ben
5. Don't stop looking for love
6. Isn't it a wonder
7. Words
8. It's time
9. Games of love
10. Strong enough
11. Heaven knows
12. Crying in the night
13. Give a little
14. She moves through the fair