The pre-show build-up at Leeds’s First Direct Arena for Paul
Heaton and Jacqui Abbott is a quirky affair. Dream-folk covers of Springsteen
songs drift across the PA as images of Esther Rantzan, Chief Wiggum, and
various footballers flash on large screens on a two-minute loop. There is no
discerning theme to it; but then perhaps, that’s the point, the showreel an allusion
to the attention span of modern culture. It’s clever, wry and acerbic; much
like Heaton’s own musical sensibilities.
It’s been an impressive comeback for the Sheffield-raised
singer-songwriter. The Beautiful South disbanded in 2007, citing “musical
similarities”, and Heaton’s subsequent work has never really troubled the charts.
But his 2014 reunion with Abbott brought him arguably unexpected commercial
success, prompting multiple sell-out tours in increasingly larger venues. This
sold out show is a significant step up though; having toured medium-sized
venues only previously, this is their debut arena show. With the pressure of
their biggest headline gig to date, a few errors could be perhaps expected and
forgiven.
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| Paul Heaton and Jacqui Abbott perform live on TFI Friday in 2015. (Courtesy of Zimbio) |
Instead, they sound and perform flawlessly, delivering a droll masterclass
in exquisitely realised British pop. Heaton is probably one of the country’s
finest songwriters, his genre-straddling compositions woven into the cultural
tapestry, and the setlist draws from all of his musical eras. Opener Wives 1, 2 & 3, taken from his and
Abbott’s second album Wisdom, Laughter
and Lines, is filled with the darkly humorous lyrical insights into normal
life that are his bread and butter, wrapped in a lithe, shuffling pop number. The Queen of Soho is built on
Sixties-flavoured guitar that was probably never paired with tales of drag
queens back then. The Horse and Groom
delves into Killers-esque heartland-synth-rock, complete with cowboy metaphors.
Older track Pretenders to the Throne
is joyous in its melody, riding upon stirring piano, whilst the
musically-sunny, lyrically-downbeat Old
Red Eyes is Back feels like an inappropriate celebration. Heaton has a gift
for tapping into the public consciousness and it serves his songcraft resplendently.
“It’s odd that there’s so many people here,” he comments, visibly
surprised, whilst thanking the crowd for coming, before he namechecks the local Jumbo
Records and makes a quip about “deleting browsing history”. Though not a
natural showman at first glance – stood behind a lectern, dressed in glasses
and steel-grey cagoule, possessing the air of a bemused teacher on a field trip
– his savvy delivery is bursting with its own charm that lends itself to his
performance, particularly on Housemartins cut Anxious. Vocally, he is faultless, his voice well-preserved and mellifluous;
his beautifully affecting rendition of I’ll
Sail This Ship Alone prompts a standing ovation that is only cut off when
the band starts the next song.
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| Paul Heaton and Jacqui Abbott perform in Hull in 2016. (Courtesy of Ian Rook) |
Abbott only speaks on occasion but as the co-performer of some
of pop’s most enduring creations, she lets her vocals do the work. Silky-sweet
with a bitter venom underneath, she offers a perfectly-harmonised counter that
snakes around Heaton’s own voice, such as on the achingly beautiful Prettiest Eyes and the jaunty Good as Gold (Stupid as Mud). When she
steps up to the plate solo, she nails it too, conveying resigned loneliness
superbly on Sundial in the Shade, and
the gentle ebb and flow in Rotterdam
as glitterball lighting illuminates the auditorium in kaleidoscopic refractions.
Neither vocalist is flashy, though the latter does “dad-dance” throughout; but
they remaining captivating performers who command attention.
The last forty-minutes is a near-total hit-storm; the punchy
power-pop of Happy Hour, a
radically-recast Perfect 10,
transformed into a driving rock anthem, and the acapella Caravan of Love close the main set, the latter spine-tingling as
ten thousand voices join in unison to form the backing for Heaton’s soulful
delivery. A double encore follows; first, a cod-regaee take on A Little Time and Don’t Marry Her, complete with large inflatable beach balls
descending from the rafters, before they return to deliver the
Soviet-influenced Heatongrad. They
finish off with You Keep It All In, signalling
an outbreak of dancing in the aisles as gold confetti cannons erupt stage-side.
As Heaton and Abbott wave farewell, they both blow kisses to the crowd. After
such a wonderful live performance, it’s highly unlikely that they’ll be saying
a permanent goodbye any time soon.
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