According to Swiss psychiatrist Carl Jung, “sarcasm is the means by which we hide our hurt feelings from ourselves.” While Jung had all sorts of theories are ever so slightly out there, it’s hard not to think that he’s got something of a valid point with this one; after all, if you were to think of the most sarcastic person you know, it’s unlikely that your second thought would be about how their favourite song is
Shiny Happy People. Without wanting to extrapolate Jung’s theory onto an entire country, as a Briton it always does strike me just how ubiquitous sarcasm is wherever I go. While I appreciate sarcasm as much as (being honest far more than) the next guy, sometimes it can get a bit tiresome, it has to be said. The one exception I’d make to this would probably be with regard to the music I listen to. At the heart of much of the great British music of the last 40 years has been a certain sarcasm, or at the very least irony; in a way symptomatic of our favourite national pastime-a complete inability to take anything short of a war seriously.
As has been observed in a previous review of an album by The Beautiful South, if you’re an American the first examples of the kind of British music I’m talking about will probably be faintly irreverent bands like The Beatles, and other British bands that pretty much took over the world. If you’re British, however, you’ll probably be thinking of some of the Britpop bands of the 1990s, and indie acts such as The Smiths. While both of those options would be understandable, and indeed rooted in fact, The Beautiful South are quite probably the best example of this sort of musical tradition imaginable. Formed in 1989, The Beautiful South have since then found a perfect musical niche which they haven’t significantly deviated from ever since. While they’re finally showing signs of losing their songwriting touch now, however, between 1989 and 2000 they released a string of albums that ranged from the impressive, to the frankly outstanding.
Quench is probably one of the weakest Beautiful South albums from that time period, and yet has many charming features that fans of the band will certainly be able to enjoy.
Arguably the most distinctive musical feature of the band has always been the vocal interplay between frontman and lyricist Paul Heaton, and female singer Jacqueline Abbott. From the very opening song,
How Long’s A Tear Take To Dry? a vaguely disco-esque backing is overwhelmed by the two of them bantering with each other through the lyrics, including….
Beautiful South Lyrical Classic #1: The flowers smell sweeter, the closer you are to the grave.
As I said, if you think Morrissey was the best example of sardonically miserable English songwriters, then you need more Paul Heaton in your life. That’s not to say that the band only have that one gear though. If you’re of a certain age then you’re almost certain to remember
Perfect 10, which is hidden in the middle of the album and yet is easily one of the catchiest songs the group have ever recorded. Beginning with Heaton singing in what sounds like a parody of a singer in a smoky bar, the song quickly turns into the two singers comparing physical characteristics and what exactly they’re looking for out of their partner. Although that sounds quite wonderfully shallow (who am I kidding? It
is wonderfully shallow), something you’ve really got to understand before you can comprehend the appeal of the group is how effortlessly the music compounds Heaton’s lyrics. Here the music consists of a deeply soul-infused groove that adds what sounds like the purest musical form of arrogance imaginable to the swagger of the lyrics. And, of course, there’s also
Beautiful South Lyrical Classic #2: I love her body, especially the lies.
Based on those two songs as well as a handful of others from this album, this would be right up there with the very best albums that Paul Heaton and his merry men have made. Unfortunately the album does have its share of filler tracks on, and even more unfortunately, these come right in the middle of the album. This effectively acts as a body blow to the momentum built up by the sheer wit and soul of the opening tracks, and pretty much kills the album dead in the water.
The Slide comes close to being redeemed by gospel style backing vocals during the chorus, but the rest of it seems an interminable drudge that’s completely lacking in the group’s trademark style.
Look What I Found In My Beer isn’t much better, in spite of the fact that we get the feeling that the music’s actually going somewhere again. Those two songs are mercifully redeemed by
The Table, which is built around sombre piano chords until Heaton reaches the chorus, when we get
Beautiful South Lyrical Classic #3: I've been sat upon (woo-hoo), I've been spat upon (woo-hoo), I've been treated like a bed, been carried like a stretcher, when someone thinks they're dead.
Window Shopping For Blinds is a song that follows a similar motif, with Heaton beginning by bemoaning wasting all his money on alcohol (something that happens on virtually all his recorded material, but most notably on other Beautiful South albums). Rather than going into a strangely upbeat chorus though, this time we get music that sounds uncannily like a waltz more than anything else. Although the vocal chemistry between Heaton and Abbott is present throughout the album, and indeed is one of the most important things in the appeal of the band, it’s particularly notable here, most notably when they sing in unison what probably passes for a chorus, specifically
Beautiful South Lyrical Classic #4: They say I drink too much, to me, well that's just profound, how do you know you can't swim, until you have drowned?
Given my rating for the album, I’ve probably given it a disproportionate amount of praise up until this point. That’s because the most infuriating thing about
Quench is that it is halfway to being a classic Beautiful South album, and therefore pretty much by default close to being a classic pop album (make no mistake about it, at their best these guys make pop music that is pretty much as good as it gets). The songs I’ve praised in particular would fit perfectly on Beautiful South compilation, but there are simply too many middling to poor songs on here for this to get the praise that it so easily could have gotten. Other than those already mentioned,
Pockets,
Losing Things,
Big Coin and
Dumb all pass pleasantly enough, but without any of the witty, sarcastic appeal that can elevate The Beautiful South into the highest levels of pop music. If you already like The Beautiful South then you should get this for the gems here that don’t make it onto any of the compilations out there. As an album it’s probably the last good one they’ve made (don’t mention that ghastly collection of covers). However in their back catalogue it lags behind
Blue Is The Colour,
Welcome To The Beautiful South and
Choke, to name a few.
