The Beautiful South: "Everybody's Talkin'"

11 May 1994

"In a rare display of genius, The Beautiful South have traded their over-clever Radio 2 pop vibes for a cover of this atmospheric country tune, once the theme song for the brilliant 60's film Midnight Cowboy."

— Tom Doyle

"In a rare display of genius, the Pet Shop Boys have traded their arch-irony dance-pop vibes for a cover of this glorious country tune, previously a hit for both Elvis Presley and Willie Nelson."

"In a rare display of genius, R.E.M. have traded their jumbled word-salad indie rock vibes for a cover of this pounding singalong of heartbreak, originally done by an ancient American group called The Clique."

"In a rare display of genius, Erasure have traded their overtly philosophical melodrama pop vibes for a jolly E.P. of dancefloor-friendly covers, all first made famous by Swedish quartet ABBA."

Imagine the above being said about "Always on My Mind", "Superman" or ABBA-esque. You may like these singles but I daresay a number of you would take issue with the assertion that they are all examples of "a rare display of genius" on the part of the bands covering them. Sure, Neil Tennant's lyrics can be a little too knowing at times and you have no idea what on earth Michael Stipe is going on about and it wouldn't have killed Andy Bell to have smiled once in a bloody while but these are all relatively minor knocks against otherwise brilliant bands, particularly the Pet Shop Boys and R.E.M.

So, perhaps you'll understand why claiming that a cover version done by a band featuring one of the most formidable songwriting duos in British pop is maybe not quite as complimentary as it initially seems. Like The Housemartins before them, The Beautiful South had not been above doing covers from time to time. Aside from a version of "Girlfriend" (a 1987 hit for Pebbles) on their debut album Welcome to the Beautiful South, the bulk of their reinterpretations ended up on B-sides. And they did a pretty good job of them. Womack & Womack's "Love Wars" is stripped of its eighties' production and gospel backing in favour of a Motown-ish treatment that is impossible to dislike, while Paul Heaton does gives one of his most impassioned vocals on Bill Withers' "You Just Can't Smile It Away".

But up until this point Beautiful South singles had been the exclusive domain of Heaton and co-songwriter David Rotheray. Yet the mega-hits were beginning to dry up. After hitting the ground running with three of their first four singles all cracking the Top 10, their subsequent chart placements of forty-three, fifty-one, twenty-two, thirty, sixteen, forty-six and twenty-three reflected their much more selective appeal. In need of a hit? Nothing beats a cynical and utterly unnecessary cover version!

There are probably two reasons why "Everybody's Talkin'" makes sense, at least in terms of them bothering to record it. First, it's an effective way of putting the spotlight on newcomer Jacqueline Abbott, who had only recently replaced Briana Corrigan as the group's female singer. While some found the Ulster singer's squeaky voice to be riveting (this humble blogger included) she wasn't quite to everyone's taste. Corrigan helped make some of their wonderful early kitchen sink dramas but in Abbott The Beautiful South had a girl who wasn't going to take shit from no one.

The other thing "Everybody's Talkin'" has going for it was that it could pad out an album that really needed it. While Miaow isn't without its merits, clearly substandard work managed to make it past the editing process. The bitterly anti-war closing track "Poppy" may be the group's worst effort in their first ten years as a going concern while "Hooligans Don't Hall in Love" isn't a whole lot better. Elsewhere, a lack of meaning drags things down: the deep cut "Tattoo" sounds quite nice until you realise that whatever it is that Heaton is trying to communicate goes way over your head. While the superior B-sides "Love Adjourned" and "Size" could have found a home on their fourth album, there were plenty of stinkers to remove rather than their cover of a Harry Nilsson standard.

Oh, and while we're on the subject, there's something kind of funny about covering a song associated with a guy who didn't even write it himself. ("In a rare display of genius, Nilsson has traded his sub-Beatle-esque doodles, for a some dashing outlaw country and western fun, the product of some bloke called Fred Neil, who happens to be fond of dolphins.") "Everybody's Talkin'" managed to give him a major hit but it also proved to be a millstone, as was future smash "Without You" which was written by Pete Ham and Tom Evans of Badfinger. Nilsson's own considerable talents as a songwriter would be overshadowed by the pair of signature hits which happened to be written by others.

It wasn't as though critics were unaware of Heaton's own abilities as a songsmith. Many of the same hacks who praised the likes of "Happy Hour", "Think for a Minute", "Five Get Over Excited" and "Me and the Farmer" were quick to disown the author of "Song for Whoever", "A Little Time", "Old Red Eyes Is Back" and "Good as Gold (Stupid as Mud)". The Beautiful South were "soft", you see. It mattered little that they had songs about breakups, cheating, alcoholism, domestic violence, the elderly (Miaow's third single "Prettiest Eyes" rivals John Prine's "Hello in There" and Neil Young's "Old Man") but none of this seemed to matter to the music press who viewed Heaton's new project as no more creatively relevant than Simply Red. They were the Pet Shop Boys you couldn't dance to long before people pretended this had actually been The Smiths all along but this, too, mattered little. Fans who sang Housemartins songs on football terraces also abandoned ver South.

"36d" represents the moment that everyone was allowed to turn on them. As just about everyone concerned will now acknowledge, it was a clumsy attempt at taking on the so-called lad mags and Page 3 girls. While I would argue that the message that there is far more to these young women than images of them without any clothes on is clear, Heaton could have taken on the publishers and those who truly objectify women rather than accusing them of using their "poses" to "turn the passive into maniacs". Lesser groups might not have recovered from this debacle.

And this is what we were on the cusp of just as we were approaching the midway point of 1994: by year's end, The Beautiful South would be the biggest band in Britain. All those songs people kind of liked but never got round to buying, all those killer videos on the TV, all those minor hits teenagers and their parents all suddenly wanted to have in their CD collections, it all erupted into the surprise Christmas season album smash. Everyone pined for a new Stone Roses LP until one finally arrived when most decided to sod it. The Beatles at the BBC was swiftly snapped up but more out of a sense of duty than anything else. The must have item fell to Carry On Up the Charts. In Canada, we got it a month later so it acted as a reward for killing it on my social studies diploma exam. (We were further rewarded in my homeland with two extra cuts on the compilation as well as a pair of extras on the limited edition bonus disc which accompanied it: our COUTC is better than yours)

In truth, The Beautiful South were already beginning to move past their great period by the time of Miaow and Carry On Up the Charts. The humour, irony, poignancy, darkness and grotesque portraits were being left behind in favour of a more formulaic approach. Every Beautiful South album had a song about being a heavy drinker and each one had one about loving a woman who was gaining weight. Sometimes these tunes were great but just them always being there began to get tiresome. I'd buy an album like Quench out of loyalty, listen to it twice, tell people that it's "criminally underrated" — Jesus, I could be a giant git sometimes — and then go back to playing Choke and 0890 because those are the ones than mean something to me. For others 1994 was a gateway to the best band that no one seemed to like but for me it was the beginning of the end. But they did "From Under the Covers", "I Think the Answer's Yes" and "I'm Your no.1 Fan" so The Beautiful South will always have a special place in my heart. Their genius was anything but rare.

~~~~~

Also Reviewed This Fortnight

Salt 'N' Pepa: "Shoop"

So, I haven't brought up the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame lately. Yeah, I used to discuss it quite a bit in this space, didn't I? The recent addition of Mary J. Blige to the "hallowed" Cleveland hall made me think about those who I think are far more worthy than her. Usually when someone of colour gets inducted there's always cries of "But is this person really rock and roll?" but I prefer building up the cases of other multicultural acts instead. TLC belong over Mary J. and her one song that was a big hit but which I no longer have any memory of, as does En Vogue. Plus, these hall turkeys are always so concerned about how "influential" the people they induct are so why not some of these female R&B groups. But let's look no further than Salt 'N' Pepa. And forget that Blige woman, whose name I may or may not be misspelling, how are they any less deserving than bloody Run-DMC? If anything a gem like "Shoop" should really seal it. "Push It" was a big deal back when I was ten or eleven and then there was "Let's Talk About Sex" which made a considerable "dent" on the public consciousness. "Whatta Man" alongside fellow hall snubs En Vogue remains memorable but "Shoop" could well be their peak. Tough but tender raps, vaguely threatening but lots of fun and a welcome reminder there really wasn't anyone out there like them. They deserve my due, yours and an honour from that silly old hall with all their "influential" bands. Rant over.

Salt 'N' Pepa: "Expression"

10 January 1990

"I think it's a great song, I love it, but it's not an incredibly strong single. But it was great."

— Matt Goss

The Chart Music podcast team, and show regular Taylor Parkes in particular, often speak about the so-called 'eighventies', a vague period of time in which the seventies and eighties blended into one another. One decade, it would seem, was keen to get started prior to it even beginning while the other desired carrying on well past its time running out. I was just three-and-a-half when the seventies gave way to the eighties so remnants of the 'eighventies' are difficult for me to spot but I am aware of a similar occurance known as the 'neighnties'. No one spoke of the neighnties at the time and it only really seemed to be a curiosity in retrospect. It's odd to think, for example, that the Pixies existed before Roxette or that there was still pop metal as late as 1992 but these weren't remarked upon then.

With the nineties just over a week old, it would have been little too much to expect the past decade to be rid of completely so early on. Instead, we have a very late-eighties pop star reviewing the new releases (all of which would have been written, recorded and cut in the eighties) with his pick for Single of the Fortnight being a very late-eighties rap combo who were looking to shake the tag of having one megahit to hold their hats on. It was going to take a while for the eighties to be extricated completely from the nineties.

Matt Goss last appeared in this space just a few months' ago. Bros had been at the forefront of British consciousness in 1988 but their star had gradually begun to wane over the course of the following year. Craig 'Ken' Logan took a leave of absence (he wasn't on stage with the Goss brothers at their Wembley Arena show in mid-January, much to the bitter disappointment of my sister) before officially departing in the spring. Having been all over the place a year earlier, the public was sick to death of them and their legion of Brosettes was diminishing as allegiances were transferred over to Jason Donovan and New Kids on the Block. Now a duo of Matt and twin brother Luke, they wanted to tell everyone of how serious they were and that they'd be around for years. Yeah, about that...

Bros' attempt at reviewing the singles in Smash Hits in September of 1988 is poor even by the modest standards of guest pop star critics. They recommended poor records and, worse, they made the whole thing all about them. Taking on the task alone this time, I am pleased to report that Matt Goss handles it much better the second time round. He tries a little too hard to prove what catholic tastes he has ("I do like rock — I love Journey") but at least he sticks to giving his thoughts on the music he's been given. That said, he makes a bit of an arse of himself when he knocks the New Kids for being "white boys...trying to sound black and not succeeding". Oh the irony.

Salt 'N' Pepa were another trio that rose to fame in 1988. "Push It" had been a near number one but it is now far more beloved than the song it was stuck behind (Glenn Medeiros' "Nothing's Gonna Change My Love for You"). Bros' first hit single that year ("When Will I Be Famous") also released the runner-up spot and it led to a further four Top 5 smashes; Salt 'N' Pepa's breakthrough success only led to modest performances subsequently. "Shake Your Thang (It's Your Thing)" rode its predecessor to a Top 30 spot but good luck finding anyone who remembers it today. A fun cover "Twist and Shout" returned them to the upper echelons but, again, when did you last hear it?

The group had a quiet 1989 but at least they managed to get out of it without anyone jumping ship. DJ Spinderella, Salt 'N' Pepa's very own Ken (admittedly it was difficult to accept that an outfit with two people in the group name would be a trio), would be a mainstay until being abruptly terminated in 2019. Much of the year was spent working on their second album and "Expression" was to be the first single. Fans expecting another "Push It" weren't going to be disappointed.

In spite of Goss' odd recommendation (see the quote above), "Expression" would ultimately end up being held off until finally being released that April. (It appears in the ALSO RELEASED THIS FORTNIGHT sidebar, reviewer Sian Pattenden having a much tougher selection of singles to sift through as the neighnties really began to heat up) This postponement may have contributed to its shockingly poor chart record as it only just crawled into the bottom of the Top 40. Any worries that they were heading down the dumper would quickly be reversed when follow-ups "Do You Want Me" and "Let's Talk About Sex" made them relevant all over again.

Goss points out that their singing in the chorus makes for a nice change and he's right. Doing tough comedy rap was only going to take them so far and working out a new approach turned out to be the right move. The other big change "Expression" marks is an embrace of feminism. They aren't explicit with this message but just who were these young women trying to encourage if not teenage girls? When they first arrived they seemed horny and up for a laugh but now they were trying to go deeper and mostly pulling it off. I don't suppose this is the "message" that rap fans of the time would allude to but it's a message all the same and one that your Public Enemies and NWA's weren't interested in pushing into their material.

What's missing is originality. With an oft-repeated chorus imploring listeners to "express yourself..." they were either knowingly or unknowlingly inviting Madonna comparisons. "Express Yourself" had been a global hit for Madge only six months' earlier and it couldn't have helped the chances of Salt 'N' Pepa's comeback. Why it was chosen to mark their return is anyone's guess even if it's a well-intended effort. I don't imagine they meant to copy Madonna but that's not how it would've been taken. For his part, Goss doesn't bring this up and it's possible no one noticed.

The first Single of the Fortnight of the nineties, "Expression" ushered in a period of hip hop becoming much more critically acceptable in the pages of Smash Hits. And, for once, they weren't being lauded for not boasting about themselves as previous wags had gone out of their way to give props to the likes of Run-DMC, De La Soul and Redhead Kingpin. Hip hop could finally be taken as hip hop and there would be plenty of room for the braggarts, do-gooders, gangstas and hippies. Salt 'N' Pepa would carry on and continue to do well throughout the decade ahead. As for Bros, well...

~~~~~

Also Reviewed This Fortnight

Deacon Blue: "Queen of the New Year"

"Ha-Hoo-Ha!" Timing, as they say, is everything. Ver Blue's second album When the World Knows Your Name had come out about nine months' earlier. I got it for my twelfth birthday and I have always associated it with the hot summer of '89 as a result. Sure, there was this song about the New Year that opened it (as well as two further numbers that mention Christmas) but the big choruses and drums and all that yodeling made for fun listening on warm evenings as well as car trips around the south of England. Jump ahead to the start of 1990 and "Queen of the New Year" suddenly made sense and became my favourite song on an album that was now all about snow and ice and staying in. An LP for all seasons even if the cool kids weren't having any of it.