Mark Owen is an exceptionally nice person. Even before he moved into the Celebrity Big Brother house and soothed his fellow housemates' fragile egos with kind words and quietly strummed Radiohead songs, the resilience of his good nature was obvious.
Despite selling a million copies, his post Take That solo album, 1996's 'Green Man' was unjustly branded a flop, leaving Owen as ex-pop royalty while bestest buddy Robbie Williams picked up the £80 million prize. Yet he never once complained. In the merciless world of pop you won't find a more good, solid, grounded individual.
And so it is that 'In Your Own Time', Owen's second stab at solo pop stardom is a good, solid, grounded album. With a big heart it strums, sways and rocks steadily through the trials and tribulations of life and love, all the while quietly plying tunes to quietly hum along with. Hints of hope are reassuringly everywhere, delivered with a wisdom and understanding that confirms that Owen is everything you could ever wish for in a best mate.
In a pop star though, a little paranoid schizophrenic megalomania never goes a miss. As Robbie Williams knows, being bitter, twisted, insecure and prone to wallowing, is not only entertaining, but the stuff grown-up pop is made of. In essence, Owen's just too nice.
There's no shortage of intelligent lyrics and solid tunes. 'Head In The Clouds' is a twisted, singable tale of a man besotted with a woman who abuses him. 'Kill With Your Smile' swaggers slyly through destructive passion and 'Gravity' smiles widely at the joy of having someone else to live for. But with his level head, not his heart, apparently in charge of the writing, there's more intellect than emotion. The lows aren't desperate enough; the all conquering choruses aren't the waves of elation they should be. It's like he's observing rather than feeling any of it.
What makes 'In Your Own Time' frustrating is that with the first two singles he got it spot on. Striding with conviction and a sneer, 'Four Minute Warning' is a brilliantly cynical end of the world anthem. While the verses of 'Alone Without You' are so pitifully crushed that the chorus of "what am I to say, what am I to do" really does sound like begging.
Possibly the loveliest person alive, it's hard not to will Owen on; and there's plenty here to suggest he's still got a pop star in him. Yet equally, it's hard not wish he'd stop being so bloody polite about it.
