The first coming was majestic, triumphant and remains a genuine turning point in the ever fickle world of pop music; the second coming was littered with anti-climaxes, drugs, kids and inter-band difficulties. Now, after the split of The Stone Roses, the man who once proclaimed 'I am the resurrection' has risen again.
This morning, however, he's having problems rising. When he finally appears, three hours late, he looks a little thin, but otherwise no different from the Ian Brown of '89 - the angular cheekbones, the fringe and swagger that inspired a thousand frontmen and broke a thousand hearts. He's as charismatic as ever, virtually chain smoking as he explains how he's supposedly banned from the hotel because Bez broke into the bar during a particularly exuberant Happy Mondays after show party.
He's nonchalantly cool, but far less churlish than his reputation suggests. After apologising for his late arrival and asking his press officer to find him some bananas (required diet for anyone nicknamed 'King Monkey'), he settles down for the interview. One of his first revelations is - ironically as he was the last remaining original member - he was nearly first to leave, sick of the inter-band squabbles that dogged the Second Coming recording.
"I'm everyone's best friend. I'm getting the hugs - but he won't talk to him, and he hasn't talked to whoever for a week, so I went 'Fuck it. We ain't no band.' We used to be so tight and close, y'know ? No-one could get near us. We all had the same mind at one point. They said 'Don't do it. Stay', and I couldn't do it to them. I thought, 'He (John Squire, Roses' guitarist) wants to do it on his own and I'll do it, I'll sing these songs for him, I'll wait for him.' But he never waited for me."
The first seeds of the break-up were sown when Squire decided he didn't want to work with Roses drummer Reni anymore. The band recorded 'Fools Gold' and 'One Love' to loops, then Reni recorded over the loops. When the Second Coming recording started, John wanted to continue working that way.
"We always wanted to be the best players, the JB Allstars," explains Brown. "How the fuck can we be the JB Allstars playing to loops ? Everyone's saying Reni's the best drummer they've seen, but John's got no faith in his ability and Reni's like, 'Why the fuck am I here ?'"
Reni quit shortly after, amid rumours of heroin abuse. The band finally resurfaced for a UK tour late in '95 which included two classic gigs at the Apollo, now firmly etched in Mancunian folklore. "We were at our peak at Brixton and the Apollo," remembers Brown. "Then John left in March. Just called me up, five minute phone call, telling me he's a phoney, that he can't do it no more."
The band decided to carry on, a decision Brown now regrets, replacing Squire with ex-Simply Red guitarist Aziz Ibrahim. Their only live date with Aziz was the universally slated Reading appearance (this is incorrect - the Roses played several live dates with Aziz - Paul). "I was too close to it. I thought this is the real Roses. Everyone else has fell off….. after Reading, people were like 'This ain't the Roses. The Roses is you, Mani, John and Reni.' I realised they were right. So I finished it."
Drugs, as widely rumoured, played no small part in the disintegration, and Squire has admitted that each band member was taking different drugs. "Yeah, it was a big problem," admits Brown. "The thing is the Roses were never that kind of regular rock band. I never thought we were destined to turn into some coked-up band. My man just became the regular coked-up guitarist, spoilt brat….. I don't like weak minded people and if you take coke you're weak. You've got no bottle and no feelings for yourself or anyone else."
Though they'd already drifted apart, Brown felt betrayed when Squire left, especially as it seems he was working on The Seahorses whilst still with the Roses. "He's magically discovered this new band the night he's left and got his management and solo deal all done at once," explains Brown. "I gave my life to that fucker. He was a quiet kid. I used to finish his sentences, I used to talk for him, I was the only kid who could get through his door. We spent years encouraging him since he started playing 'Three Blind Mice' until he became the guitarist of his generation. We wanted that for him. But to turn round and do that to us….."
When I ask him if he'll ever be able to bury the hatchet properly, Brown gazes pensively out of the window for an age. "I had my second baby in '95," he eventually says. "My kid's known me since I was six and he wasn't even interested in setting eyes on me second son. If you don't think about my kids, I don't wanna know you. I'm right over any bitterness. I just think he's a grown man that turned into a pure baby. He's just empty."
After the irrevocable split, Brown decided he wanted out of the "filthiest business in the universe". He sent a deliberately bad demo to Geffen, hoping he'd be dropped. He duly was, and felt freer than he had in a long time. "I thought I'd get some fresh air and smell beautiful things. Get a transit and do old ladies' gardens. Every man's got to toil the earth. Usually you do it at 60 or 70. I just thought, 'I'll do it now.'"
Fortunately, the faith and encouragement of those around Brown ensured the transition from Stone Rose to rose grower never happened. 'All these kids are coming up going, 'Do something. Go solo.' I thought, 'People feel I'm strong enough and I've still got this music inside me, so I'll go and make a record'. Nigel (Roses' keyboard player) and Aziz offered to help me out, and Reni said 'I'll play any beat you need'. But the songs needed to be given a chance, and if they've got half the Roses on then it's gonna take away from the songs."
Reni had given Brown an acoustic guitar the year before saying "One day you'll thank me for it." So Brown bought a Bob Marley and Blues songbook and stayed in to learn some chords. 'I heard Otis Redding wrote his tunes on acoustic, but I realised I was trippin'. I wasn't gonna come up with anything. So I started writing on bass and got some tunes together. Aziz came round and we've co-written three songs together and Nigel and Robbie (Roses' drummer who replaced Reni) have written a couple."
The resulting album, Unfinished Monkey Business (Polydor), is rough around the edges but includes a few minor classics. 'Can't See Me', a track built around a DAT of Mani and Reni jamming, has a classic late Roses' groove to it. The single 'My Star' is a slice of cosmic guitar pop that continues Brown's penchant for social and political commentary. Brown's lyrics were often underrated, encompassing references from religion to art to anarchism.
One of the reasons the Roses were special is they seemed to have something to say, even if it was a garbled message. Rather than dedicate a song to Diana, Brown would fantasise about shooting the Queen, and rather than release an album of "More pub rock bollocks !" they wanted to better Marvin Gaye's What's Goin' On.
Another misconception is that the Roses must feel jealous of Oasis, who emerged during their five year hiatus and arguably stole their thunder. "I feel good they've seen us, formed a band and become the biggest thing since The Beatles," responds Brown.
You don't feel they stole your blueprint in any way ? "No, 'cos if we wrote songs that sounded like The Beatles we'd drop 'em, whereas they'd love it and keep it."
When I mention that Liam's persona owes more than a nod to Brown's stage presence, Brown pauses: "I never stood on a stage and thought I was anybody else. If he's stood on a stage and thought he was me then he's a mug, but I don't know….."
Unlike Oasis, Brown never saw stardom as a ticket out of town. He lives in an ex-council house in Lymm, and despite his 'It's not where you're from, it's where you're at' declarations, remains loyal to the city. Announcing the Roses' split, he gave 'Special thanks to the people of Manchester who sent us on our way': "The Roses would be nowhere without the people from Manchester. They put us up there," he reiterates.
"When I look back," he reminisces, "at the time I was thinking 'We're the greatest. Everyone knows we're the greatest. We're real. We're lifting up people. There's no blag. It's all proper. It's destiny….. it's all these things.' Now I look back and I'm honoured that it happened to me. We've been to the other side of the world and people are singing our songs."
"I just got pure good memories of that," he says, "and the good always outlaws the bad."
Unfinished Monkey Business (Polydor) is released on Monday 2 February.
Back To Media 1998