Quench

16 Oct 1998

Courtesy of S. Burrows

Paul Heaton is one of the most fascinating men in pop. Outwardly, he's sodden, couldn't-be-arsed, paddling in the shallows when he might be catching a wave. But deep in his heart, you suspect he's lashed by passions and paranoia. On the last few Beautiful South albums, Heaton has been retiring from the front, delegating many of his best songs to other singers, reading his lyrics off a music stand in concert, as if he couldn't even be bothered recalling the words. He seemed to be embracing a super-wasted scally stereotype.

'Quench' has some of those old characteristics. There's a bunch of morbid drinking songs, domesticity once again held up as the deepest of horrors, an enslavement of the soul. The answer traditionally, has been for Paul to pour another stiff one and to piss those responsibilities up the wall. But then listen to him singing 'Big Coin', as he weighs self-interest against throbbing, open-hearted humanity; he rubbishes capitalism's excesses in a beautifully creative way and applies himself to the tune in a way you haven't witnessed for an age, clear and affecting. Or witness 'Slide', also grasping for something better, pulling a gospel choir along for succour.

Paul wants to halt his long decline, and he's putting up a lively struggle, forcing his personality back into the music. Style-wise, there's still plenty of nicely-rounded tunes and wry one-liners, possibly more than you want. There's a bit of soul and touches of Steely Dan on the likes of 'Pockets', while on 'Losing Things' Heaton's quietly troubled like Isaac Hayes. There's even some nasty doo-wop in 'Dumb' to muddy the water.

So this record won't alienate the millions of lazy consumers who file Beautiful South CDs alongside Simply Red. But Heaton and his co-writer, Dave Rotheray, also offer a spikier collection than before, even if Norman Cook's involvement hasn't wrought a radical change in form. But it's an important respite from the squiffy, bemused schtick of old. On 'Quench' it sounds as if that joke is getting harder to swallow.