At first listen it's easy to dismiss the Housemartins as featherweight British zanies with more than a touch of Madness. After all, their brisk acoustic-driven pop melodies are theatrically sweeping, and P.d. Heaton's lead vocals are so light on their feet that they seem almost flighty.

Listen more closely to the band's lyrics, however, and you'll hear lots of potent zingers mixed in with the zaniness. The band's huge U.K. hit "Happy Hour" may sound like the ultimate intoxicating pub anthem, but lyrically it's a sobering statement. As the irrepressibly giddy music hooks you in, the lyrics hammer away at the hypocrisy and sexism of young British business types on the move.

The band keeps up such sly juxtapositions for nearly the entire LP, letting them down only for the earnest ballad "Flag Day," which comes off as corny, and the gospellike "Lean on Me," which aims for deeper roots than the group can reach. On the rest of the album, however, the Housemartins display complete musical and lyrical authority. Even when Heaton breaks into a tricky soul falsetto for the bridge in "Over There," he pulls it off with admirable agility, and the one all-instrumental attempt, "Reverends Revenge," is equally exhilarating.

What's unique about the Housemartins is that the disparity between their serious lyrics and their carefree music seems in no way consciously ironic. Instead it's as if they're simply so excited by the truth of their complaints that they can't help but deliver them with wild optimism. More important, this approach winds up proving an even larger point – that dissent doesn't have to be angry. Sometimes it can even be joyous. (RS 496)

JIM FARBER