Not even Ian Brown's most ardent fan would claim he was a great vocalist. After all, no major artist has ever had his shortcomings so publically exposed. None of the Stone Roses played well during their 1996 Reading festival performance, but it was Brown's horrendous bellowing that ensured the show would be their last.
Nevertheless, he has proved the most successful of the band's former members, which has bewildered some observers. How has a singer who cannot actually sing managed to sustain a 15-year career in music? Residual affection for the Roses could account for cult status, but Brown is still big news: he has sold out two nights at the 4,000 capacity Brixton Academy.
His fans like to present their hero as a mystic figure. He certainly does things onstage that, while not exactly mystical, are at least inexplicable. Why, during Stardust, does he raise his right arm to his face like a Playschool presenter encouraging viewers to be an elephant? What is the significance of the mime performed while singing Golden Gaze, which features Brown pretending to ride a motorbike? And why does he keep making that noise - "Ch-ch! ch-ch!" - during every song? Eventually, he starts making the noise between songs as well, adding a fittingly surreal tone to his pronouncements. "Stop the war! Stop the war!" he cries. "Ch-ch! Ch-ch!"
The suspicion arises that Brown is simply doing the first thing that comes into his head, regardless of how daft it makes him look. And therein lies the secret of his continued appeal. In an age when rock bands talk of target markets and focus groups, Brown acts instinctively, with little thought of the consequences.
The same impulsive immediacy drives his music, with mixed results. Too much of his set is dragging, vacant droning with half-digested gibberish - and a lot of "ch-ch-ing" - instead of lyrics. Brown circumvents his vocal limitations by singing in a monotone; his band wander aimlessly behind him.
However, when they kick into a version of Love Like a Fountain that incorporates a snatch of the Stone Roses' Fools Gold, it is compelling and magical. Brown suddenly seems on a roll, performing Dolphins Were Monkeys, Golden Gaze and his excellent recent single FEAR. Then his quality control fails again: he closes with the dreary, dirgy Forever in a Day, a move that confuses even his most vocal supporters. Inside the head of rock's most inscrutable performer, however, it probably makes perfect sense.
