Their number one single, "I Usta Love Her," has outsold singles by U2, the Corrs, the Cranberries, and every other Irish band you've ever heard. Many consider the song Ireland's second national anthem. That was twelve years ago. Since then, they've topped the UK charts and were part of a million dollar-campaign for Harp Lager. So, why have you never heard of the Saw Doctors?
Subject to an odd mix of media desertion and fan devotion, the Saw Doctors' career has become something of a musical odyssey: circuitous, but enduring. Buoyed these past years by their strong, established fanbase, the Saw Doctors are your classic cult act; playing in a world of sold-out concerts and absent widespread popularity.
"Mostly, people don't know we exist," says Leo Moran, guitarist, lyricist, and one of two founding members still playing in the Saw Doctors.
Wearing a well-loved Ramones t-shirt and retro glasses, Moran is pensive, hospitable and seemingly devoid of the drama and cynicism crawling around the current music industry.
"We don't get much media attention. We've always been on the peripheral. It doesn't bother us much, but you have to find other ways of letting people know you exist," says Moran.
After enduring an all-night drive from Chicago, followed by a painfully early performance on Fox 25 that very morning, it's a wonder Moran isn't passed out on his tour bus. Rather, his repartee winks; his wit bites.
"We're a mix of country, punk, folk, and rock - with an Irish accent," he says. "It's the music I loved over the years...the Ramones, I got to see the movie [documentary "End of the Century"] the day after Johnny died," and his voice cracks for the briefest of moments.
But the list of admired
musicians continues, "I love Creedence, Springsteen, Steve Earl, Bob Dylan, Woodie Guthrie ..." he says. And the list goes on.
Moran's list speaks to the generational gap between the Saw Doctors and many of the newer bands gaining speed these days. The Frames, which Moran claims are the "biggest Irish band in Ireland these days" have paid their dues like the Doctors, but they've also gotten more press than Moran and the band, having been featured in Maxim, NPR, the BBC, and other such worldly sources.
On the day of their first show in Boston, the Globe gave the Saw Doctors only a small box in their listings section.
Called the "people's band" by many, Moran quips that they've only been labeled as such because "it probably means that most people are as good musicians as we are." He is wrong. They're masters at the art of live performance.
All six Saw Doctors are so comfortable on stage, they practically carve out a second home for themselves; they care for the audience so much, they practically invite to be part of a second Saw Doctor family. During the Boston show, the other founding member of the band, Davy Carton dedicated a song to "all the familiar faces, which is nearly everyone" and with that gesture of a thousand welcomes, even newcomers felt like they, too, belonged at this reunion.
It's a give-take relationship, however. Buying your ticket to see the Saw Doctors is an unspoken contract; with that ticket, you're also agreeing to play an important part in their musical progression, their lives.
It's not a tough bargain though. Frank lyrics and warm personalities make them impossible not to enjoy live. That said, their main problem, in terms of increasing their popularity, is transferring that special bond with their fans at live shows to their studio works. Their most recent release, The Saw Doctors Live in Galway, a live CD and DVD recorded in their hometown, tries to bottle the magic of the live show with mixed results.
"It's as close as we can get to capture the show. You have to be at a show to experience a show. I'm skeptical how far a live album/DVD can bring it to people," says Moran.
This time, he's right. The live album, while a treat to devoted fans, ends up sounding muted and harsh on the ears. It is as close as listeners at home can get to the real, live band - but it's not nearly close enough.
One would think that Moran and his bandmates might be frustrated at their lack of recognition over the past 15 years, biting their thumbs at the unfairness of the MTV age when bright young bopping things seem to dominate the industry with their smiles and exposed skin.
Even in Ireland, MTV glamour dominates the club scene and much of the airwaves. But, with a patient grin, Moran explains his logic, "The Saw Doctors aspiring to be on MTV would be futile ... I don't bother about it. Why beat your head against the wall worrying about it? I've got a na??ve belief that if you keep going at it long enough, you'll get a break somewhere."
