Unlike most of the two-year wonders who achieve instant renown inthe United Kingdom whilst scarcely denting college radio here, theHousemartins deserved better. On the surface they were one morefeckless, jangling pop band. But with dulcet-voiced Paul Heatontensing lyrics worthy of a bomb-throwing skinhead against guitaristStan Cullimore's uncommonly fetching tunes--imagine an honor studentat the conservatory crooning "Don't kill someone tomorrow/That youcould kill today" for an inkling of the effect--they packed a wickedaftershock. Given the sorry success rate of such followups as GeneralPublic and the Style Council, however, their 1988 breakup seemedto be the end of them. But now come two terrific yet utterly dissimilar spinoff albums.Welcome to the Beautiful South (Elektra) is the onethat sounds like the Housemartins, except that its surface is evenmore feckless and dulcet: drummer-turned-vocalist Dave Hemmingwaytrades sugarlumps with Heaton, the political edge is gone, and keyboardscut into the jangle that new guitarist David Rotheray isn't muchgiven to anyway. Keep listening, though, and Rotheray's melodiesstart to sink in. Then you notice thatSong for Whoever ismean pop satire as well as shamelesslly pretty pop, and that theWoman in the Wall was put there by a husband who "enjoyeda pint or two or three or four." Aftershocks galore. In one respect, former Housemartins bassist Norman Cook is lesscomplex: Beats International'sLet Them Eat Bingo(Elektra) means to be as happy as it sounds. But Cook's methodsare anything but simple. A DJ in Hull since his band disbanded,Cook has created the mixing record music lovers dream about--withbits of Afropop and Delta blues and disco and folk-strum and everykind of pop-funk hybrid segued together into a universal dance musicthat earns its billing, nothing is forbidden and everything fits.The only people immune to music this universal are copyright lawyers. Playboy, May 1990
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