Ian Brown is an ugly man. He's always been an ugly man. We were just more willing to tolerate it when he fronted a band as ferociously talented as the Stone Roses. These days, as a "solo act," the Monkey Man's total lack of presentability has never been more readily apparent and, strangely enough, embraced by the man himself. His ugliness, in an abstract and simplified form, is on full display on the cover of Golden Greats in an array of cheery pastels. His mutt-fugly mug also adorns the inside cover in full photographic glory, in case you required a more sobering confirmation of his hideousness. And if that isn't enough, the CD is enhanced with a clip of the video for "Love like a Fountain" and a photo gallery for your viewing pleasure. The video features a chess piece, a shoe, a pailful of painfully obvious Christian imagery, and a treasure trove of homely.
After his incoherent February 1998 debut, Unfinished Monkey Business, Ian Brown became renowned for alleged gay-bashing, slugging a flight attendant, and a subsequent two-month stint in the slammer. His career adopted a slight, Weilandish hue. According to his biography, this unfortunate string of events-- in addition to his complete lack of musical talent-- made him consider becoming a landscape gardener. He didn't. (We suspect it might have had something to do with an inability to hide a lack of talent as a landscape gardener by surrounding yourself with other, more talented landscape gardeners.)
Of course, it only makes sense that this poor bastard would finally squeeze out a relatively engaging album. After all, you can't be this dumb and ugly and have bad luck on top of it. For the most part, Brown has left the instrumentation on Golden Greats to hired hands, leaving behind the elementary school proficiency that marred his first solo effort. He's also opted to mask his bong-cured vocals in an assload of distortion, which lends a pleasing nondescript accent to most of the tracks, and helps wash down some of his unforgivably asinine lyrics.
The album runs the gamut stylistically, from the Zeppelin-esque riffs of "Gettin' High" to the laid-back bass line of "Neptune." But the music is by no means organic-- Brown melds that reliable old genre, drum-n-bass, with his rock sensibility. "Free My Way" rides a skittering beat, but somehow manages the rock with blazing guitarwork and bass-drenched cello.
Of course, Golden Greats seems to owe its eclectic sound more to its host of capable engineers and session musicians than to any talent or inventiveness on Ian Brown's part. But that's beside the point. If nothing else, Brown at least lends some charisma and name recognition to the album, which earmarks it for attention. If you can get past the misguided cover art and multimedia, Golden Greats proves a worthy listen. But we in the States might want to wait for its slated mid-April release before rushing out to purchase the $30 UK import. It's not that fucking good.
