You know that drum fill. It’s four bars of pure, unadulterated caffeine. Before Katrina Leskanich even opens her mouth to tell you she’s walking on sunshine, you’re already halfway to a good mood. It is one of those songs that feels like it has existed forever, like air or gravity. But honestly, most people think Katrina and the Waves were just a one-hit wonder that vanished into the 1980s ether once the hairspray settled.
That is just flat-out wrong.
The story of this band is actually kinda wild. It involves the US Air Force, a cult-favorite punk band, a massive Eurovision landslide, and a legal battle that left the lead singer without her own name. They weren’t some manufactured pop act. They were a gritty, hard-working rock band that spent years playing US military bases in the UK before they ever saw a red carpet.
The "Military Brat" Connection
Believe it or not, the band wasn't actually British—well, not entirely. Katrina Leskanich and bassist Vince de la Cruz were Americans. Specifically, they were "military brats" whose fathers were stationed in the UK. They met in a Catholic folk choir on a base in Norfolk. Imagine that for a second. The voice behind one of the most famous rock songs in history started out singing hymns in a chapel.
They eventually formed a cover band called Mama's Cookin'. They played everything. Motown, R&B, classic rock—basically anything that would keep a room full of servicemen from throwing bottles. This is where the band’s "chops" came from. When you play 150 different covers a night, you learn how to hook an audience fast.
In 1981, they hooked up with Kimberley Rew. Now, if you’re a music nerd, that name should ring a bell. Rew was a former member of The Soft Boys, a legendary psychedelic punk-pop band. He was an incredible songwriter, but he wasn’t crazy about being the frontman. He realized pretty quickly that Katrina had a "cannon" for a voice. He started writing songs specifically for her, and Katrina and the Waves was born.
The "Walking On Sunshine" Royalty Machine
It’s the song that refuses to die. "Walking on Sunshine" was originally recorded in 1983 for a small Canadian label, but it didn't become the monster we know today until they re-recorded it for Capitol Records in 1985.
The track is basically the "crown jewel" of music publishing. It is estimated that the song earns between $150,000 and $200,000 per year just in royalties. Why? Because every time a movie director needs to show a character being happy, they play this song. It’s in The Secret of My Success, High Fidelity, American Psycho (ironically), and basically every second commercial for laundry detergent or orange juice.
But here’s the kicker: Katrina herself doesn't see much of that money.
When the band eventually imploded, there were some pretty messy legal disputes. Katrina reportedly received a payout and walked away, but the publishing rights stayed with the songwriter, Kimberley Rew, and the other members. In 2015, the entire catalog was sold to BMG for a cool £10 million. Katrina has been very open about the fact that while the song is her legacy, it’s not exactly her pension.
The Eurovision Comeback Nobody Expected
By the early 90s, the band was mostly playing small clubs in Europe. They were seen as a "nostalgia act." Then, 1997 happened.
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In a move that surprised everyone, Katrina and the Waves represented the UK in the Eurovision Song Contest with "Love Shine a Light."
It wasn't just a win; it was a total demolition. They won by a record-breaking margin (at the time) of 227 points. It was the first time the UK had won since 1981, and honestly, given the UK’s recent track record at the contest, it feels like it might be the last for a while. The song hit number three on the UK charts. They were back.
But the comeback was short-lived. Success, weirdly enough, made the internal friction worse. Katrina felt the band was stuck in the past; the guys felt like the "Eurovision" tag was a bit of a burden. By 1998, Katrina left the group.
What Really Happened After the Split?
Things got complicated. There was a period where Katrina couldn't even use the name "Katrina and the Waves" for her solo work because of legal restrictions. She pivoted to a career as a BBC Radio 2 DJ and did some musical theater.
Then came 2005. A hurricane named Katrina hit the US Gulf Coast.
Suddenly, her name was everywhere, but for the most tragic reasons possible. She’s spoken about how jarring it was to open a newspaper and see headlines like "Katrina Kills 9." It was a bizarre, dark coincidence that briefly linked her sunshine-pop legacy to a natural disaster. She eventually used the moment to help raise money for recovery efforts, trying to reclaim the "spirit" of the song.
Why They Actually Matter
Katrina and the Waves weren't just a fluke. If you dig into their deeper discography—stuff like "Going Down to Liverpool" (which The Bangles covered) or "That’s the Way"—you find a band that was deeply influenced by the 60s British Invasion but played with an 80s power-pop edge.
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They were a "real" band in an era of synthesizers. No backing tracks, no lip-syncing. Just a great drummer, a brilliant songwriter, and a singer who could out-belt anyone in the room.
How to Actually Explore Their Music
If you want to go beyond the one song everyone knows, here is how you should actually listen to them:
- Find the 1983 Canadian recordings. These versions of their hits are a bit rawer and less "polished" than the 1985 Capitol versions. They have a garage-rock energy that’s actually cooler.
- Listen to "Going Down to Liverpool." Most people think it’s a Bangles song. It’s not. The Waves' version is grittier and captures that Thatcher-era unemployment gloom much better.
- Check out Katrina’s solo album (2005). It’s called Katrina Leskanich. It’s a lot more personal and shows she wasn't just a vessel for Kimberley Rew's songs—she’s a legit artist in her own right.
- Watch the 1997 Eurovision performance. Even if you hate Eurovision, the sheer power of her vocal on "Love Shine a Light" is a masterclass in professional performance.
Basically, don't write them off as a footnote. They were a band of "misfits"—Americans in England, punks playing pop—who managed to capture lightning in a bottle twice. That's a lot more than most bands ever manage.