Liverpool Sound and Vision Rating * * * *
It has always been the feel of the British Noir, the black and white stand out persona and often photographed demeanour that has always endeared Hugh Cornwell to the British public, a sense of being one of the most open, honest and insightful men to ever grace a gig, and one that has the pulse of Time firmly within his grasp.
Across being part of one of the great bands in British music history, The Stranglers, his own in-depth discography, and a truly frank autobiography, as well as other avenues of exploration, Hugh Cornwell has ploughed his own field and made his time count for something extraordinary by not relenting to the expectations of others. It is a raised eyebrow of individual taste and sincerity of emotion that his latest album, Monster, takes up residence, an avenue that turns into a freeway, a long-distance journey with the windows down and the radio on, pumping out into the still British air, the feeling of introspection and the willing to tackle certain people’s history and notoriety.
The two-disc album though doesn’t just reflect on 20th Century controversial and remarkable figures, for every tale of Lou Reed, Hedy Lemarr, Phil Silvers, Robert Mugabe, Ray Harryhausen and Evel Knievel, there is the chance to re-engage with old Stranglers’ classics, but one given a new perspective in the way that Hugh has taken them apart and allowed the acoustic guitar to feed life into them.
Across songs such as Pure Eval, The Most Beautiful Girl In Hollywood, Mr. Leather, Bilko, Attack of the Major Sevens and Duce Coochie Man, the love of the Noir, of the stark black and white opening scenes, Mr. Cornwell once again defies conscription to any one’s description and summing up of his career, and it is a beautiful sense of self, of personal belief that someone, anyone, can maintain such integrity.
In the album’s second side, the softness of tone highlights the sting of pleasure that comes with looking back at a time that has always been held in high-esteem. Songs such as Don’t Bring Harry, Goodbye Toulouse, No More Heroes, Big In America and Always The Sun speak in poetic form, a departure of the incredible rage and power that normally accompanies the songs. Instead and despite the listener’s understandable overwhelming protectiveness towards them, they come across as an elevated verse, of re-arranged Time in the hands of someone possessed with a sharp and clearly defined mirror, one who sees the passing of such things to be in constant and energetic flux.
Monster is massive in its ideal and range, never doubt the integrity of Hugh Cornwell and his belief in standing outside of the easy route, a way of life which may seem fiendish to some, but to those who welcome such passion, the monster is truly a friend.
Ian D. Hall