Back in 1981, when guitarist Stuart Adamson quit The Skids to form Big Country with guitarist Bruce Watson, neither man knew they had just set in motion one of the great Scottish rock bands.
“To be honest, I’d have been happy just to put out one single, or get a Peel Session – that was my ambition,” Watson reflects today. “But it went a lot further.”
Adamson’s suicide in 2001 – at the horribly early age of 43 – ended their first run. But Watson has kept the fires burning, and this year’s burst of activity includes an acclaimed biography of the late frontman (by Classic Rock’s Scott Rowley), and a new album, Eastworld, drawing on material from the vaults that the classic line-up never got around to recording.
“There was unfinished business,” Watson says as he prepares to share the musical things that forged him.
The first music I remember hearing
A Hard Day’s Night. I was probably five years old. That chord at the start – I think it’s two guitars, a bass and a piano – is one of the greatest intros ever. I’d got a plastic guitar for Christmas, and when The Beatles were on TV, and they’d all take a bow at the end, I’d stand in front of the TV and take a bow too.
The first song I performed live
I had this punk band called The Delinquents, and the first song we played was Wild Thing. In that band we supported The Skids, and at the first gig, in Dunfermline, we were trying to make a big production. I had this shitty little practice amp, but I made this big, fuckoff Marshall stack out of cardboard boxes, cut to size and painted black, with volume knobs made out of beer bottle lids. I set it up on stage, but somebody opened the fire exit and the fucking thing blew away!
The greatest album of all time
The one I keep going back to is Marquee Moon by Television. Before covid, I was doing a show in New York. I was sitting in the dressing room, and the band supporting us were soundchecking, and I could hear them playing Marquee Moon. And I’m going: “That guitar player is really spot-on.” As I walked in, I realised: “That’s Richard Lloyd!” The promoter told me: “Yeah, he’s your support for the night.” I went: “You fucking what?!’”
The guitar hero
Probably not from a technical point of view, but I would say Mick Jones. He looked so brilliant with a guitar. I loved everything about The Clash – the songs, the energy, and then what he did in Big Audio Dynamite, embracing new technology and sampling.
The singer
Alex Harvey, because he’s got the most dangerous vocal delivery of all time. I remember going into a record shop to hear The Impossible Dream [1974]. The girl in the shop was laughing at me, but I came out of the booth and thought: “Right, I want that.” If I saved up from my paper round, after three weeks I could afford to buy an album.
The songwriter
I’m going back to The Clash, and Joe Strummer. He’s my favourite lyricist. My favourite line, in any song, is at the end of (White Man) In Hammersmith Palais: ‘I’m the all-night drug-prowling wolf who looks so sick in the sun.’ It conjures up so many images. If I was ever to get a tattoo done, I’d have those lyrics tattooed somewhere.
The best live band I’ve seen
The Rolling Stones. I did two tours with them back in the nineties. I used to watch them every night. I’d often stand behind Charlie Watts. And they are the quietest band on stage I’ve heard in my life. You can actually talk over the top of them playing. They play through these little Fender amps. It sounds like they’re playing in a local pub. Backstage it’s such a great vibe. One time, during Sympathy For The Devil, the backing vocalists brought back a microphone, and anybody who was there got to sing the ‘ooh-ooh’s.
My guilty pleasure
Love Grows (Where My Rosemary Goes) by Edison Lighthouse. You can imagine going to a wedding and watching your aunties and uncles dance to that. I hate songs that have key changes, but that’s got a brilliant key change near the end, and they get away with it.
My Saturday night party song
Brown Sugar. It’s instantly danceable. If you’ve had a few pints, and you want to jump about stupidly, that’s the one to do it to.
The song that makes me cry
Anything that Richard Manuel sang for The Band. Levon Helm and Rick Danko have beautiful voices as well, but Tears Of Rage, I Shall Be Released, Whispering Pines… those will make you reach for the tissues.
The song I want played at my funeral
(White Man) In Hammersmith Palais is probably the song that touches me most in life. But as a funeral song, Alex Harvey’s Anthem is a lament, so that’s probably the one. It starts off with a high female falsetto voice just humming a melody. Then you’ve got these military snare pipe-band drums, then Alex’s voice comes in, and the band kicks in. Then there are bagpipes. It’s very evocative. And it’s very Scottish.
Big Country Redux release Eastworld on September 19, and tour the UK in November/December.