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.

Marky Mark & The Funky Bunch: "Music for the People" / Marc Almond: "My Hand Over My Heart"

25 December 1991

"Finally — music that matches his admirable chest posturing."

— Miranda Sawyer

Hark! Marks Shooting Sparks! What a Lark! You might say she's a bit of a "mark" for the lads named "Marc". Did Hits colleagues Frith and Andrews put "our" "Bunny" up to this?

Pet Shop Boys and Billy Bragg aside, Miranda "Bunny" Sawyer has chosen some very questionable Singles of the Fortnight during her four year "stint" at the top pop mag. She went with a forgettable slice of Euro-pop over The Stone Roses' "Fools' Gold", passed on underrated bangers like The Chimes' cover of "I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For" and Billy Joel's "The Downeaster Alexa" in favour of the bland dancefloor twosome of Touch of Soul and Beats International (not even their good song!) and brushed aside Blur's "There's No Other Way" in order to prop up the questionable talents of Vic Reeves. Even the Pet Shops ended up being dismissed by her when she took their masterpiece "Being Boring" to task while going with a lame MC Tunes collaboration with some sprogs and a Madonna greatest hits promoting new track that was better as a concept than as an actual song. (And then there's her indecisiveness. This is the third time she anointed co-SOTF, something her cohorts at ver Hits generally avoided doing)

So, let's get this over with. New Kids on the Block had been one of those music phenomenons that seemed depressingly long term. They had been so prevalent within the culture that it felt like they would never go away. Then, 1991 came along and they were gone — and suddenly it was as if they would never return (which, in effect, they never really did). Their fans had moved on and everyone else hated them, something that's difficult to come back from. 

Nevertheless, the New Kids name was enough for the younger brother of one of its key members to emerge just as the quintet was busy falling off the map. If there was one New Kid who received the lion's share of the hate it was Donnie Whalberg. While Jordan, Jon and Joey were pop pretty boys enjoying their spell of fame and Danny made do with being the "other one", Donnie was the one who commanded attention. He appeared unhappy with his situation and seemed to be the one who craved credibility. To the others, the New Kids were just a boy band; to him, they were hip hop-savy street toughs. It mattered little that this gambit made them look even wussier.

Just what we needed was a second Whalberg to come along. Making matters worse was that he had the spotlight to himself. Without the preening Jordan, there was no one around Mark Whalberg to counteract the phony tough guy persona. What he had was this seemingly nameless Funky Bunch to make him look even more menacing, something they just about managed. Mark's other major accomplishment happened to be making me wish for the return of older brother Donnie.

Yes, this is major movie star Mark Whalberg we're talking about, a man who has got a lot of mileage out of starring in Boogie Nights (which he has more recently disavowed). But prior to that, he was a rap "talent", one who wasn't going to lower himself into "singing" or any of that sell out pop nonsense. Except that debut single "Good Vibrations" was as pop as it comes and its only really notable features are the big-voice of backing singer Loleatta Holloway and Marky's six-pack in the accompanying video. As if addressing this decent into commercialism, he returned with the street ode "Wildside", an update of Lou Reed's "Walk on the Wild Side". Honestly, I found "Good Vibrations" to be the more convincing of the two.

Sawyer expresses distaste with Whalberg's earlier releases which makes her especially delighted by "Must for the People". It's better than "Wildside" but, again, I'm not sure I buy this attempt at turning rap into a modern day folk music. Perhaps it's simply the fact that he goes out and says it directly which is so distasteful. If he wished to make music for the proles then by all means do so but he doesn't have to state it so directly. But that's just me. The other thing working against this is that it doesn't stand out enough.

~~~~~

"Which title does the above title remind you of, readers?"

- Miranda Sawyer (again)

Like Simply Red and UB40, Marc Almond spent much of his career reliant upon cover versions. "Tainted Love" often comes up in those Buzzfeed 'Songs You Didn't Know Were Covers' lists (even though plenty of people knew this all along); other Soft Cell hits were composed by the singer along with Dave Ball but good luck trying to remember any of them beyond "Say Hello, Wave Goodbye". His next major hit was a team up with Bronski Beat on "I Feel Love", a well-intentioned, spirited rendition that nevertheless couldn't hope to come close to Donna Summer's sublime original. Almond wouldn't have another number one hit until his outstanding duet with Gene Pitney on the Bachrach-David clone "Something's Gotten Hold of My Heart" in early 1989: yet another cover.

The release of Memorabilia: The Singles earlier in 1991 gave Marc Almond a second wind. "Tainted Love" returned to the charts and quickly became a cog of eighties' retro while the Willing Sinner was preparing new music of his own. His performance on "Something's Gotten Hold of My Heart" proved he could hold his own with alongside a legend like Pitney and he went back into sixties mode as inspiration for the album Tenement Symphony. Though much of the material was co-written with former Soft Cell mate Bell, its finest tracks were (fancy that) its pair of covers. The first single released was a version of the Jacques Brel number "Jacky" which had also been a recorded by Scott Walker for the classic Scott 2. This showed that Almond was ahead of the game: the Scott Walker revival was still the better part of a decade away. Not a huge hit in the autumn of '91 but it did all right. The third single arrived the following spring. Once again, our hero had plundered un-fashionable material from the sixties. "The Days of Pearly Spencer" had previously been a flop in the UK when released by Irish singer David McWilliams but this memorable cover gave Almond a Top 5 smash.

But it is the record released in between "Jacky" and "Pearly Spencer" which is of concern to us here. I was initially underwhelmed but it has grown on me over the last several days. Nevertheless, work that sounds like rejects from ABC's The Lexicon of Love can only be of limited interest. Whatsmore, I suspect Sawyer herself knows this. Her review goes into much more detail about Kylie Minogue than Almond himself.

"My Hand Over My Heart" is of course reminiscent of Kylie's number one hit from '89 "Hand on Your Heart". Sawyer advises Hits viewers to play the 12" at 45 RPM in order to "hear the Kylie single she never made!" I will have to take her word for it. I did indeed give the extended mix a listen but having go at a faster pace on YouTube didn't do anything to make me think this had been a Stock Aitken Waterman classic hidden in plain sight. Somehow or other, the music played faster but Almond's voice remained steadfastly Marc Almond, somehow sounding more like himself the more I tried to speed it up. Perhaps playing the physical vinyl copy made for different results but this only convinces me further what a generational vocalist Almond has always been. Quite right too. It's a shame such a so-so song would be what gives him his sole appearance in this blog but I'm glad to have him here all the same.

As for Kylie and her much cherished pop sound of old, Miranda Sawyer and the Hits "viewers" wouldn't have to wait long. 1992 was about to begin with things being nice and familiar — though not for long.

~~~~~

Also Reviewed This Fortnight

The Beautiful South: "Old Red Eyes Is Back"

I guess I sound a little grumpy above, huh? Well, call me resentful that I had to write about bloody Marky Mark instead of one of my favourite groups. I'm also a little ticked that they keep getting shafted by others. "Old Red Eyes Is Back" is a firm fan fave but it fell well short of Sawyer's predicted Top 5 spot, only getting to number twenty-three. I wonder if the grotesque sleeve turned people off? This is the start of Paul Heaton's series of songs about drunks, something that would eventually become a Beautiful South cliche. For the time being, however, "Old Red Eyes" was stirring, bittersweet and even funny in places. For my money just a notch below upper tier South. Their commercial fortunes seemed to be heading downhill but they were at a creative peak, though you wouldn't know it if you didn't bother buying the 0890 album, an LP whose deep cuts vastly out pace the singles. If only everyone appreciated them as much as me. (Note: The Beautiful South will eventually be appearing in this space but with a record I don't even like all that much. Look for me to be back in grumpy mode when we get to it) 

Jesus Loves You: "Bow Down Mister" / "Love Hurts"

20 February 1991

"It's a bit silly, but it's got a bit of spirit and it's so catchy, we could all be marching around chanting Hindu mantras before you know it."

— Richard Lowe

The Dumper. Few have fallen into it only to climb their way out as frequently as Boy George. Though Culture Club's third album Waking Up with the House on Fire was considered a disappointment by many, it was only on their following long player that the end looked near — and it wasn't going to be pretty either. The dumper surely beckoned for the once imperial Culture Club.

George O'Dowd's heroin habit spiraled out of control but he steeled himself to nab a number one single with his cover of "Everything I Own". It was painfully on the nose but it didn't matter: Boy George was something of a national treasure in Britain and he possessed enough goodwill with the buying public to take him all the way to the top of the hit parade. People wanted to like it but they weren't loyal enough to keep him in Top 40 hits indefinitely. Three more minor hits followed before he was back in the dumper. This time, it looked like it might be for good. Reviewing his 1989 number sixty-eight "smash" "Don't Take My Mind on a Trip" in Smash Hits, Richard Lowe notes that his lack of success is "terribly sad" because he's a "nice bloke, a great pop star and he's yet to make a truly awful record (even his flops like "No Clause 28" and "Keep Me in My Were Rather Good")". Indeed, this second period of dumperhood resulted in some of his best work since the heyday of Colour by Numbers and "Karma Chameleon".

Boy George would end up having seven flop singles on the bounce, a streak that would take him into the nineties and see him adopt the band/collective name Jesus Loves You. He had once been the golden goose for Virgin Records but you've got to think that he was under threat of being dropped at this time. But rather than go the tried and tested cover-version-ofa-famous-ballad route to resuscitate his career, he instead stayed the course. The pop kids would eventually find their way back.

It's hard to say they fully did but he did have spurts of chart action. He once again crawled his way out of the dumper with the fourth Jesus Loves You single "Bow Down Mister". ("Love Hurts" made it part of a double A-side even though it failed to garner much interest; I wonder if it was given co-prominence just in case DJ's were turned off by its companion's religiosity; otherwise, there's not much else to say about it) Less of a nod to underground house music than some of his other recent material, it's still far from being a cynical attempt to give him a hit at all costs.

In pop culture, the Hare Krishnas were those people in orange robes who for some reason were always at the airport. I didn't fly a lot as a youth and so I never encountered them but that was the collective impression (one that would be spoofed by The Simpsons). Not to be simply uttering a bunch eastern mystical babble, they went by the name 'Jesus Loves You'. In 1991, I was a fourteen-year-old atheist who found anything remotely pious to be embarrassing. (I even hated the use of gospel choirs in pop videos, finding them to be the height of groups trying way too hard to be authentic) "Bow Down Mister" didn't have a hope in hell of appealing to me.

But somehow or other it did. It certainly helps that it's as catchy as Richard Lowe says. References to "karma" (if you're a decent person then others will be good to you, which is nonsense) and "kun kun" (something you put in your hair) are there but they don't overwhelm the song. Boy George was said to have been moved by a visit to India and this prompted him to pen "Bow Down Mister" (under the pseudonym 'Angel Dust': good job getting the drugs out of your system there) in tribute. It's not likely he immersed himself in it much since it isn't exactly awash in much beyond cliches about 'sacred cows' and 'lotus flowers' (what, no tantric sex?) and that's for the best. 

It says a lot for George's skills as a pop craftsman that he could pull it all together. Lowe likens it to a mix of country and western, gospel and folksy church songs that "trendy vicars put on to "relate" to the kids. All those are there, even if I don't hear much country myself, but there's also some bollywood melodies and some simple house chords at the end. Not unlike West India Company's equally outstanding East meets West extravaganza "Ave Maria", it dabbles in all sorts of styles and philosophies. Rather than being cultural appropriation, it's an example of cross-cultural blending. Though his once silky-smooth voice sounds rougher, he gives an impassioned performance, deftly lagging slightly behind his colleagues in the chorus to a sparkling effect.

Though just a Top 30 hit, "Bow Down Mister" helped Boy George out of the dumper. A re-release of the 1990 Jesus Loves You flop "Generations of Love" (another quality item) gave him a second minor hit before he would be dumper bound once again. Things would be so grave that he would be persuaded to go the cover-version-of-a-famous-ballad route. Luckily, he was Boy George and was up to the task of pulling it off.

~~~~~

Also Reviewed This Fortnight

The Beautiful South: "Let Love Speak Up Itself"

"Not their best", admits Lowe, who spends much of his review of "Let Love Speak Up Itself" praising Paul Heaton's talents as a songwriter (he's much better than that "pompous, self-obsessed bore" George Michael, you know; I would agree though I'm not quite as down on George, though I probably would have concurred back then). No, not The Beautiful South's best tune but a worthy one nonetheless. Free of humour and irony, even if "the oldest swinger in town" is an unexpected character, this is about as earnest as Heaton gets. The magnificent "My Book" failed to reach the Top 40 (a major comedown following the number one success of "A Little Time) and this did even worse. In truth, a single no one needed but it's still a fine track on their underrated second album Choke. The Beautiful South had entered their unpopular period which happened to also be their creative zenith. Weird how that works.

The Soup Dragons: "Mother Universe"

3 October 1990

"The Dragons seem to have settled comfortably into being a "floppy" band after their weedy indie beginnings."

— Sian Pattenden

One of the things that makes 1989-90 so musically fascinating is that it was a time in which previously unsuccessful groups suddenly made it big. The Farm, Happy Mondays, James, Primal Scream, The Stone Roses and, yes, The Soup Dragons had all been languishing in the indie scene until seemingly out of nowhere they all began scoring hit singles. The cause? Changing styles and tastes no doubt played a part but it shouldn't go unnoticed that they all began putting out better records at this time.

It was the Roses and Mondays who ended up carving out the bulk of the sales and acclaim and they remain baggy's best remembered groups. The latter were perhaps the first indie guitar group since The Smiths to really excite young people while the former was being fronted by the most charismatic yet peculiar pop star since Ian Dury. The latter headlined Spike Island while the former earned album-of-the-year honours from both the Melody Maker and the NME. They were a veritable Beatles-Stones, Slade-T-Rex and Blur-Oasis. Everyone seemed to have a favourite baggy group but it was always between those two; it was whoever you happened to have in third place that could vary from person to person.

Rounding out the Madchester Top 3 in my esteem was Motherwell's The Soup Dragons. True, their output is thin. As I say above, their work in the mid-to-late eighties is feeble, something that Sian Pattenden agrees with. Listening to some of their early singles, it's like they were trying to emulate The Jesus & Mary Chain but had no idea how to go about doing so. (Modern art buffs will tell you that while Jackson Pollock's drip technique was made to look random and, thus, easy to replicate, it was in fact deliberate and studied and this goes some way to explaining why thousands of young artists have failed to come close to his brilliance; I think there's a parallel there with J&MC and their many imitators). They also fell apart rather rapidly — and on the heels of a bit of a North American breakthrough with 1992's "Divine Thing".

But in between they were every bit as good as either ver Mondays or ver Roses, two bands who also might as well have packed it in when ver Dragons did so. Initially a flop that managed to do worse than lame attempts like "Soft as Your Face" and "The Majestic Head", the original version of "Mother Universe" is nevertheless their first record that anyone would ever choose to listen to. It has quite a good tune, the band is tight and there's no way you won't be singing along before its three minutes are up. Longtime fans (to the extent that they had any) may have been upset by this change in direction but it's pointless to scream "SELL Out!" when you only reach number ninety-four.

Taking a page out of the Mondays' book, they went and recorded a cover version for their next go at the charts. "He's Gonna Step on You Again" had been a hit twenty years' earlier but no one seemed to remember it in '90 and the Dragons replicated it by covering an early Rolling Stones song that somehow flew under the radar for a quarter century. Given what this Scots indie-dance act would do with it, you'd think that Jagger and that lot would've punched out a rip roaring take of "I'm Free" but, sadly, it sounds reflective when it didn't need to be. For a band that often put everything into their music

In some ways, this Soup Dragons' cover is like imaging what the Stones' original should have been like. Sean Dickson belts out a vocal that Mick would've been proud of, it has a lot more musical bounce and the use of a choir is something that the world's greatest rock 'n' roll band would come to use later in the sixties on cuts such as "Salt of the Earth" and "You Can't Always Get What You Want". Maybe I'm making the obvious connection with Jagger's guest spot on Peter Tosh's "(You Gotta Walk) Don't Look Back" but it's easy to picture them bringing in a toaster not unlike Junior Reid joining ver Soups on "I'm Free".

"I'm Free" gave The Soup Dragons a Top Five smash which was only topped or matched by fellow baggy groups Happy Mondays and The Stone Roses. In an attempt to follow it they went back to what should have worked before. Pattenden says it's "completely re-recorded" though Wikipedia describes it as having been "reworked". Dickson's vocal sounds a bit different while the musical additions are so vast that they could very well be covering up the exact same rhythm track underneath. In any case, the results do the trick: what they did to a lackluster Stones song, they had now done to one of their own numbers.

On the other hand, this rave-friendly "Mother Universe" is a bit like "I'm Free"-lite. The gospel choir isn't as much like a Baptist church in the deep south and in place of Reid's toasting there's that very common sample that has always sounded — to these ears, at least — like "bring in my Buddha culture y'all". It's still catchy and you'll no doubt still be singing along just as with the original but it doesn't quite manage to capture that ecstatic pop thrill that they got out of their biggest hit. I would agree with Pattenden that it's "more exciting" than the original but it's still worth pointing out that they seemed to have an easier time covering the Stones than they did when they tried covering themselves.

The Soup Dragons would go on to release a pair of strong albums. 1990's Lovegod sold well and remains one of the better Madchester LP's. Two years later they put out Hotwired which failed to replicate the success of its predecessor. The dumper beckoned but for "Divine Thing" being a Top 30 hit in the US. This was a feat that their contemporaries wouldn't come close to matching (no, EMF and Jesus Jones don't count in spite of what I thought about baggy back then). American college radio had a thing in those days for witty and playful guitar rock and the Dragons briefly found a niche.

In time it would become cool to say "when it comes to Blur vs. Oasis, I'd choose Pulp" (BTW, this is no longer a hot take). I suppose if it was down to a pair of successful but creatively stagnant groups I might also go for a third option even if I don't personally agree with it in this case. But going back to the Big 2 of Madchester, when it comes to Happy Mondays vs. The Stone Roses, I'd (maybe) choose The Soup Dragons. I really have to be in the mood for the latter and I've long since outgrown my interest in the former. A flash in the pan though they certainly were, the Dragons had four or five quality singles and a pair of fine albums — and with "I'm Free" and "Mother Universe" they proved that no one did communal acid dance gospel like them. Even for those of us who preferred listening to them in their bedrooms.

~~~~~

Also Reviewed This Fortnight

The Beautiful South: "A Little Time"

"...and would be quite pleasant and dribbly if it didn't feature that awful woman who sung on "You Keep It All In" doing her best Shirley Temple impression once again", argues Pattenden. Ouch. Briana Corrigan wasn't for everybody. I personally think The Beautiful South were never the same after she left but I'm sure there are others who reckon that was precisely when they became any good. No accounting for taste and all that lark. With a killer video and that rarest of things in a duet (the narrative resolves by the end of the song!), "A Little Time" is no deep fan's favourite South track (it's certainly no "From Under the Covers", "I Think the Answer's Yes" or "I'm Your no.1 Fan") but it's one that great deal of people are fond of. A good way in to all things Beautiful South. Pattenden things there's something amiss with them but I think they were only getting started. That is until Corrigan left which was only a couple years away. Worse luck.

Soul II Soul featuring Caron Wheeler: "Back to Life (However Do You Want Me)"

17 May 1989

"I don't have to listen to this one. I know it really well already."

— Pat Sharp

It was July and our year in England was slipping away — though given my lethargy at the time, you'd hardly know it. The novelty of spending weekends in a host of British cities and towns had worn off and if I never saw another full English breakfast again I would have been a happy twelve-year-old. I didn't want to leave the UK but I didn't especially want to see any more of it either. I wanted to spend weekends at home watching the telly and listening to music — even if it happened to be in our uninspiring little hovel in Laindon, Basildon.

We had neighbours who we could see and/or hear quite easily. My sister and I would spy on an amourous couple across the square from us and noises of varying volume were easy to listen to. The bedroom we shared was separated by a thin wall with teenagers we never met but whose tastes in music dovetailed with our own. It was during this scorching summer that they came home one day with "Back to Life (However Do You Want Me)" and put it on their hi-fi. We nodded approvingly and didn't complain when they promptly put it on again. And again. And again. It didn't stop. Had it been a lesser song, we would've gotten sick of it.

"Back to Life" was unavoidable that summer. In my memories of those waning days before our return to Canada in August, it soundtracked everything. Shops played it, pub jukeboxes had it on an endless loop, schoolmates sang it as they pranced around the playground. Almost everyone seemed to love it and those that didn't still couldn't avoid it. The song of the summer a year earlier had been "The Only Way Is Up" by Yazz but I only became aware of it as it as sliding down the charts; I wasn't about to miss out this time round — and, indeed, its ubiquity ensured that there was no danger of that happening anyway.

Soul II Soul were seemingly a 1989 creation but they were sowing the seeds of their success a year earlier. Their debut single didn't exactly storm the charts on a national level but it got a good word-of-mouth and people in the know were impressed. "Fairplay" must have seemed too relax to fit in longside acid house and techno but it did well enough for a first try. Rose Windross gives a charming vocal performance and her girlish "Okay!" near the beginning never fails to put a smile on my face. It did so well that its slightly inferior follow-up, "Feel Free" with guest vocalist Do'reen, did about as well on the charts. While not as good, it set the London collective up for a big year ahead.

Caron Wheeler subsequently came aboard for third single "Keep on Movin'". It wasn't a big favourite of guest reviewer Pat Sharp but itdid well enough to give them a Top 10 breakthrough and it was even able to linger on the listings for longer than your average hit single. Relaxed but active enough to become a dancefloor staple, it was like Chic's "Everybody Dance" but for a generation more accustomed to the more chilled out Second Summer of Love (and all its requisite drugs) than to coke-fuelled Studio 54 disco vibes. With a better song and a stronger promotional push, there was every reason to expect that the next single would continue the upward trend.

But is "Back to Life" that much better than "Keep on Movin'"? As pairings go they were not unlike fellow label mate Inner City's outstanding one-two punch of "Big Fun" and "Good Life", albeit in vastly different forms. In both cases, leaders Jazzie B and Kevin Sauderson created a unique sound with their first hit singles and then replicated them beautifully for their respective follow-ups. (It didn't hurt as well that Wheeler had returned for "Back to Life" just as Paris Gray was on vocal duty for "Good Life"; Soul II Soul had always dubbed themselves a "collective" but having the same singer on back-to-back records suddenly made it seem like they were a proper group) Inner City, however, amped up the pop hooks but minimized the subtleties that helped make "Big Fun" so glorious; Soul II Soul refined the swaying dancefloor cool of "Keep on Movin'" into something even more extraordinary.

Tom Ewing likes "Back to Life" a lot but he can't quite muster the same kind of enthusiasm for it that he has for Massive Attack's phenomenal 1991 single "Unfinished Sympathy". I can see what he means but I respectfully disagree. While the Bristol trio would smartly tap into indie angst in order to bridge it with the ascending trip hop movement, Jazzie B and co. invited all into their diverse realm without barriers. Everyone seemed to love "Back to Life", even baby boomers who normally wouldn't have had anything to do with such stuff. And it still sounds great to this day (though, in fairness, so does "Unfinished Sympathy"): the easy answer would be to say that it has aged well but I suspect that the world has never aged out of it. Jazzie's promise of a "happy face and a funky face for a loving race" should have been cringe-inducing but it's something we all still need.

A few months after "Back to Life" had its memorable four week run at the top of the British charts, I was back in Canada. The song wasn't all over the place but it had successfully crossed the Atlantic and it even got played on the debut episode of the Will Smith sitcom The Fresh Prince of Bel Air. By this point, I had given up on the current music scene in my homeland and I was content to simply relive the previous year by listening to my collection of tapes from the UK as well as a handful that I subsequently picked up. One was Keep on Movin' (retitled in North America because Club Classics Vol.1 wouldn't do in a land that typically didn't have much use for British dance music). I had previously only been familiar with their two hit singles and this was my introduction to Jazzie B's world of house music, funk, jazz and world beat. I was impressed by much of it (and I love it even more now) but the stripped down, acapella version of "Back to Life" proved to be a disappointment. The thrill of those strings, that beat and that tune that refused to exit my brain was replaced by a shell of the song's "However Do You Want Me" section. This wasn't the "Back to Life" that I knew and remembered and I didn't want to have anything to do with it. But that's what makes this amazing record even more of a triumph: Jazzie B cobbled together parts of songs, samples and a Reggae Philharmonic Orchestra backing track into something utterly remarkable and addictive. An easy Single of the Fortnight, Single of the Year and, hell, Single of the Century. Any century.

~~~~~

Also Reviewed This Fortnight

The Beautiful South: "Song for Whoever"

The Housemartins were by now long gone but The Beautiful South had taken their place. So, was the music scene jubilant? Not especially. Fans cried out for ver Martins and Paul Heaton's newest band reacted back in drunken vengeance. It would take another five years before people fully began to accept The Beautiful South — by which point they had already begun to decline creatively. "Song for Whoever" still did well as people either enjoyed the joke or for whatever reason became convinced that it was a sincere statement. A backlash was already brewing but it was one ver South managed to thrive under. The Housemartins would quickly become Heaton's second best band no matter what the nay sayers claimed.