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![]() Painting It Red CD1 Who's Gonna Tell? Closer Than Most Just Checkin' Hit Parade Masculine Eclipse 'Til You Can't Tuck It In If We Crawl Tupperware Queen Half-Hearted Get (Is Second Best) White Teeth CD2 |
Q Review: Like certain
football teams and political parties,
supporting The Beautiful South involves a commitment that goes beyond
merely liking the tunes. They embody something very unspun,
un-premeditated, unmetropolitan - Dennis Skinner in a world of Charlie
Whelans. In practice, this means fighting their corner in pubs while
acknowledging that some of the criticisms of the band can ring true. The
good news for the faithful then is that Painting It Red may be their best
album yet. With more than 19 tracks and an hour and 20 minutes of music,
there are, naturally, some longueurs, but not many in a bran tub of jokes,
(it)joie de vivre(unit) and melancholy spliced with the strongest tunes of
their career. Advance publicity promising a back-to-basics album is
misleading. Musically, it's adventurous and rich with the kind of detail
they've sometimes lacked in the past. Hit Parade's delicious arrangement
is punctuated with basso profundo strings. You Can Call Me Leisure is
complex and imaginative at every turn, while Half-Hearted's harpsichord
and layered harmonies could come straight out of a '60s Left Banke record.
Then there's a cussed rejection of rock's standard subject matter
(self-obsessed angst, sexual whinging) and a focussing on the oddly
quotidian. You Can't Tuck It In is a companion piece to Quench's biggest
hit Perfect Ten and another erotic celebration of the big-boned and bonny.
Just Checkin' is a rollicking funk tribute to widows still in the habit of
scouring the pubs for their reprobate late husbands. Mediterranean is a
hymn to the restorative power of nature; specifically how the titular sea
helped vocalist Paul Heaton quit booze and drugs. Sobriety would seem to
agree with him, which is bad news for Hull's publicans. Many of their
peers distrust The Beautiful South; it must be galling to the leather of
trouser and the knotted of brow that these oiks dressed like binmen on
their way to a kickabout are the most popular British songwriting team
since Lennon & McCartney. In a land where pampered Sloanes are
people's princesses and wealthy landowners people's protestors, The
Beautiful South are more People's Republic. Ultimately, though, they are
the nearest thing we have to a people's band.**** (4 STARS) |
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