Stone Roses Frontman Carves Own Niche

by Julie Jeschke

I had to cross the darn ocean to get this CD. Originally released in the UK in February of ’98, Ian Brown’s debut album Unfinished Monkey Business has yet to be released in the States, due to inept management and folding record companies. I read a review of the album in Rolling Stone last fall, but as far as I know, a release date has still not been set. As yet, the only place Americans can get it is in a store that specializes in imports (and charges $30). So during a recent pilgrimage to London, I tracked down this little gem in the Virgin Megastore on Oxford Street.

In Ann Arbor, I’d been keeping my eyes peeled for ages, waiting for that fateful Tuesday release day to come. Time after time, I walked into record stores, flipped through the “B” section, felt dejected when I came up empty-handed, and resorted to badgering the staff. “Do you know when Ian Brown’s solo album is going to be released?” Them: “Ian who?” Me (indignantly): “Ian Brown—you know, the frontman of the Stone Roses!”

Yes, the Stone Roses. While our generation was busy wasting time listening to Tiffany and NKOTB, the Roses were gaining popularity and critical acclaim in their native England. You’ve probably never heard of them, yet their eponymous CD was the best-selling indie album in the UK in 1989. A pre-Oasis Liam Gallagher became inspired at a Stone Roses concert, and in his pretty head was planted the dream to become a frontman himself. Also from Manchester, The Stone Roses were better than Oasis any day, but they happened to be skipped over by the Brit-pop craze. Brown was the bold, brash lead singer, joined by childhood friend (and legend) John Squire on guitar, Gary “Mani” Mounfield on bass, and Alan “Reni” Wren on drums. Ian and John combined their talents to write songs that were lyrically twisted, yet musically upbeat and radio-friendly. Just as their name suggests the juxtaposition of hard and soft, they always found a way to combine fluffy pop with darkness or political statements.

The end was near, after legal battles with Silvertone Records took their toll. The long-awaited sophomore album Second Coming basically flopped, tainted by John Squire’s ego and guitar over-dubbing. The members drifted apart amid rumors of Squire’s cocaine abuse and power-driven feud with Brown. The brilliant Reni was the first to leave (replaced by Robbie Maddix), and thanks to Karma, is the only member who hasn’t had a career since then. Mani now plays bass for Primal Scream, John Squire founded The Seahorses (anagram for oodles of things, including “he hates roses”), and Ian Brown just recorded his first solo album, which finally brings me to this review.

Be warned: Ian’s voice is not for the squeamish. He has good days and bad days; part of his charm is his occasional inability to carry a tune. Reni’s flawless backing vocals minimized this handicap when the band was together, but for Monkey Business, Ian is basically flying solo. And he does a pretty good job. Brown also learned to play a variety of rinky-dink instruments for his album, and produced and mixed most of the tracks himself. He was joined by guitarist Aziz Ibrahim, and a few other musicians. Reni and Mani’s talents from a jam session at the end of “Fools Gold” were used in track 3, “Can’t See Me.” He even designed his own CD sleeve. He was nicknamed “King Monkey,” because he acted like a monkey on stage; the sleeve shows him looking suspiciously ape-like. This man can do anything.

The whole CD appears to be one big experiment: Ian proving that he can do it all alone. Critics awaited its release like birds of prey, waiting to tear apart a hapless rodent. I can’t quite call myself a critic, but I find no reason to do such hungry dissection. I think it’s a great album, and it displays a lot of growth on Ian’s part as a vocalist and songwriter. Almost all tunes on the CD are catchy, especially “Nah Nah” and “Deep Pile Dreams.” The former displays the boyish arrogance that has always dominated Brown’s attitude—the entire chorus is “nah nah,” repeated as needed. “My Star” does a good job demonstrating Ian’s skill as a lyricist, and as a reward, reached number five on the British charts. But the best banana in the bunch has to be “Corpses in their Mouths,” which features decadent guitar riffs that will leave you repeating the song over and over (much to the annoyance of the neighbors) and drooling.

I’ve heard a few rumors of a Stone Roses comeback, although (in the unlikely event that the rumor was true) it probably wouldn’t be the same as in the old days, since they’re now all megalomaniacs, pushing 40, not to mention the fact that John Squire is probably more big-headed than ever. Even without the possibility of a reunion, the classic “Fools Gold” is featured in the closing sequences of the independent British film, Lock, Stock, and two Smoking Barrels, and could spark a revival in Stone Roses mania. But probably not. Unfinished Monkey Business is definitely a CD worth buying, but sadly, few college students are willing and able to shell out thirty bucks for an on-faith purchase. Roses fans won’t be disappointed by Ian’s solo effort, but even I didn’t think it was worth the import price. My advice to you is to either buy The Stone Roses (if you don’t already own it) and enjoy all four talented Roses in their prime, or buy Ian’s single, “Corpses” on import, since it is by far the best single on the album, and a single is 1/3 the price of the full album. It’s apt but unfortunate that such a good album had to be victim of the music industry’s own monkey business. Be patient, though—the King Monkey’s first CD just might come to the U.S. eventually. MR

This article was published in the 31 March 1999 edition of The Michigan Review (Volume 17, Number 9).
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