For much of the Eighties and Nineties, soul was the sound of aspirational Britain. Like a souped-up Golf GTI, an Ellesse jumper and a blonde streak in your hair, soul, particularly the homegrown variety, had a suburban sophistication. It was also the favoured music of that forgotten figure of upper working/ lower middle-class life: the casual. Beverley Knight, one of the few well-known contemporary British soul singers, has paid homage to that period by making an album of covers of which casuals would approve.
Knight does an admirable job of reviving songs that many of us will not have heard since early childhood. Southern Freeez by Freeez (the triple-e monicker was as cool as a Slush Puppie in the Eighties) brings your reviewer vague memories of teenagers in leisurewear showing off their dance moves at the local ice rink. Almost 30 years on and with Knight’s capable vocals wrapped around it, it still sounds sharp.
From a decade later comes Apparently Nothin’ by the Young Disciples, the one real hit from the early Nineties mod revival. It still has the ability to make ordering a Malibu and Coke in a neon-lit bar seem like a good idea. Roots Manuva’s rap contribution to Knight’s rendition helps to capture the slinky, cool mood of the original, while adding another, deeper level.
From about the same time is There’s Nothing Like This by Omar, a song so effortlessly smooth and elegant it launched the whole neo-soul movement.
Not everything sounds better in retrospect. Jamiroquai were briefly fashionable in the early Nineties, which makes you think that their early work might be cutting edge and that they have been unfairly maligned ever since. Knight’s retelling of When You Gonna Learn suggests not. Say I’m Your Number One by Princess, an Eighties Stock Aitken Waterman production, was probably best left in the vaults too.
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The best thing about Knight’s album is that it shows how British soul is capable of having its own character independent of its American counterpart. Nobody proved that more than Soul II Soul, an Eighties phenomenon that built up a club, band, label and shop seemingly out of nothing and told a very British story while they were doing it. Of their classic, Fairplay, Knight says: “This track made me wish I looked old enough to sneak past the doorman.” It encapsulates the spirit of an album that sounds like a labour of love, and which will be welcomed by ageing casuals everywhere.
(Hurricane; out Monday)