I was going through my external and stumbled across this ‘classic album review’, which was written once for the University newspaper, and must be about 7 years old at this stage. Funny thing is, these type of things usually date rapidly, and the cringe factor is untenable. No doubt at that naive and impressionable juncture there was countless acts of mediocrity I was championing. Not Whipping Boy though. I remember something about them struck me when they were around, despite the fact I was only 11 or 12. I then spent a few years desperately trying to find a copy of Heartworm, which I eventually did, when it was deservedly re released circa 2003/2004. It didn’t fail to disappoint, but rather bowled me over and has remained a standout ever since, not just for me, but for most people who have developed an affinity with it. So for that reason, its odd that I still stand by every word written below. Or maybe not that odd. Because it will always be a brilliant album. I might just go and listen to it again now… Whats not to be enthralled about by a band described as like “James Joyce and Martin Scorcese pissed up and morose ready to hit the confessional with all they have got.”?
‘Every once in a while, a truly exceptional record is released. These rare gems often tend to be bordering on near perfection, are light years ahead of their time and are quite simply earth shattering. Whipping Boy’s 1995 masterpiece ‘Heartworm’ is somewhere near that. The Dublin quartet managed to pour all their guts, brains and vivacity into a melting pot of creativity to produce the most intense, emotional and passionate audio experience you’re likely to hear. Indeed, from the cello laden opening of ‘Twinkle’ to the rousing passion of closing track ‘A Natural’, the listener will be taken on a turbulent rollercoaster ride. It will shake you right to the core.
The key to ‘Heartworm’s brilliance is frontman Fearghal McKee. His deeply captivating voice sends shivers down the spine. In addition, his ability as a lyricist borders on genius. For instance, on the subject of life in Ireland in ‘We don’t need nobody else’, he proclaims eloquently: “You are what you own in this land, you can’t be king and it all depends on the view and what you can see”
The voice allows him to tell his tales of struggling love and anger (‘We don’t need nobody else’) existence (‘Personality’) and the exuberance of youth (‘When we were young’)
The music goes perfectly in tandem with McKee and ably serves to illustrate the emotion involved. The rhythm section of Myles McDonnell (Bass) and Colm Hassett (Drums) provide a solid backdrop for Paul Page’s innovative guitar playing. Drawing from Echo and the Bunnymen-esque riffs and hooks, Page’s attractive and unorthodox style adds hugely to the album’s uniqueness. Along with Warne Livesey’s exceptional production, ‘Heartworm’ is almost musically faultless. All in all, it is a spectacular platform upon which McKee can sing his poetry.
While songs such as ‘Twinkle’ and ‘We don’t need no nobody else’ exude a fiery passion, the band shows they are capable of striking a perfect balance. Songs such as the string laden, tender ‘Morning Rise’ and ‘Personality’ explore ‘Heartworm’s more soothing and tranquil side. In ‘A Natural’, the essence of the album is beautifully caught. Singing autobiographically to a backdrop of oboes and strings, McKee oozes pure emotion. Just at the right time, the band enters to ensure a rousing a fitting finale to the album. In a word, majestic.
In a perfect and fair world, ‘Heartworm’ would have sold millions of copies, would have become an all time great release and Whipping Boy would be gracing the world’s largest stages. Instead, this album has become the proverbial lost classic. Unfortunately, record company impatience ensured the album gradually disappeared without trace. When one listens to one of the standout tracks ‘When we were young’; the refrain of “What might have been” is now eerily tinged with irony.’
