The northern alienation at the heart of ‘Happy Hour’ by The Housemartins
The north of England has always been a cultural hotspot, having produced everything fromThe Communist Manifesto to the selfie. Music, in particular, has been a particular export of the north—there must be something in the water that leads to the creation of groundbreaking songwriters. During the 1980s,Yorkshire, in particular, witnessed a spike in the number of musical artists rising to prominence. Among them were Paul Heaton and The Housemartins, hailing from the city of Hull.
Formed initially as a busking trio in 1983 by Heaton alongside Stan Cullimore, The Housemartins were among the most critical and groundbreaking indie rock outfits of the 1980s. With lyrics reflecting Heaton’s staunch socialist beliefs and calling for societal change on tracks like ‘Flag Day’, the Hull outfit was perfectly positioned to capturethe zeitgeist of 1980s Britain.
Inevitably, the reality of 1980s society was not always as colourful and vibrant as the pop charts made it seem, and The Housemartins never swayed away from this fact. Although, in essence, The Housemartins were an indie pop band who would not have been out of place onTop of the Pops, they never altered themselves to appease audiences. Heaton’s lyricism was invariably political and socially conscious, in contrast to much of the pop charts at the time.
Of course, the divide between the north and south of England was widening rapidly during this period, as the Thatcherite government decimated the industrial towns and cities of the north, leaving a dark imprint on the region that remains to this day. The music of The Housemartins reflected that widening divide between the north and south within much of their output, most obviously their third single, ‘Happy Hour’, which arguably became their defining track.
Originally titled ‘French England’, the song was penned by Heaton while he was working in an office in Surrey, far away from his northern roots. The title reportedly came from the idea that the region of Surrey might as well have been France to Heaton, as it was an entirely different world towhat he was used to up in Yorkshire. The lyrical content deals with this disconnect, as well as highlighting the widespread misogyny that permeated through much of 1980s culture.
Speaking on the construction of the song, Heaton toldThe Guardian, “At lunchtime, the sales reps would come in with their smiles and all the gel and shit on their hair. ‘Coming down the hatch lunchtime, Paul? Coupla birds in the George and Dragon…’ Which I could not stand because I’d moved down from Sheffield, where we didn’t talk about women like that.”
In opposition to its upbeat melody and optimistic title, Heaton’s lyrics painted a picture of alienation and disgust. “I don’t know if many people realised that the song was about feeling miserable in a happy hour,” Heaton recalled in 2018, “Or that the lyrics make loose statements about women being harassed.”
Given the fact that the single reached number three in the UK singles charts, it seems unlikely that the song’s subtext was fully understood by the entirety of audiences. Nevertheless, ‘Happy Hour’ was one of many examples of Paul Heaton weaving profound and complex lyricism into seemingly digestible indie pop songs.
The divide between north and south England has been explored by various songwriters over the years, from Jarvis Cocker to Low Hummer, but few have dealt with the issue as tactfully as Paul Heaton. ‘Happy Hour’ is not only an incredibly catchy indie anthem, it is a profound account of Thatcher’s Britain and the cultural divide that separates the opposite ends of the nation.
Perhaps that is why the song continues to draw audiences in to this day, offering a particular highlight ofthis year’s Glastonbury Festival, nearly 40 years on from its initial release.
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