Yahoo! Music Album Review

Released on 01/08/05
Label: Hut

It might be unfashionable to point out, but Britpop was a blast. Yes, it was parochial, retro and overhyped, but it was also a pop explosion when nearly every week seemed to deliver a brilliant pop song, whether from a Blur, Bjork or Tricky. But no matter how fun the party was, there was always a lone presence stalking outside the window, watching the goings on with a withering smirk. Meet Luke Haines, architect of The Auteurs, and the most scandalously underappreciated songwriter of the last twenty years.

More intelligent than Pulp, more abrasive than Oasis and more moving than Blur at their saddest, The Auteurs released four extraordinary albums throughout the 90s to ecstatic reviews and puny sales. "Luke Haines Is Dead" is Haines' second attempt to right this wrong, following a greatest hits album. But Haines is nothing if not contrary, and just as those greatest hits were all re-recorded as full symphonies, "Luke Haines Is Dead" is a decidedly odd and apparently random walk through his back catalogue.

There are 63 songs here, including all of the singles (though often in alternative mixes) and a scattering of b sides and obscurities. The sheer consistency is a stark reminder that Haines is almost incapable of writing a bad song, as proven on obscurities as touching as "She Might Take A Train" or as scathingly articulate as "Back With The Killer Again". The alternate mixes vary in effectiveness, from a disappointingly bland BBC version of "Junk Shop Clothes" (the most mysteriously sad song of the 90s) to a stark, plaintive live version of "Starstruck" which trumps the original.

The riches here are frankly embarrassing. Years before Jarvis Cocker got round to it, Haines was damning rich girls slumming it on the vitriolic genius of "Chinese Baker" (indeed, Cocker never took a step Haines hadn't taken first). Or, for those craving juggernaut rock'n'roll, there's the bruising "Lenny Valentino". And then there's the sublimely understated lament of "Unsolved Child Murder", the glorious sepia stained pop of "The Rubettes", the brutal funk of "Meet Me At The Airport", and so on and so on.

If life was fair, you would know every one of these songs better than you know "Definitely Maybe". But since it isn't, go out and buy this immediately. As Haines sang on the final ever Auteurs song, "the future generation will get it from the start." Join them.

    by Jaime Gill