"Hello, is that Kscope Records? Yes, I'd really love to hear some songs by Mansun - you know...'Being a Girl'? 'Wide Open Space'? Yeah, that's them. But for some reason I don't want to listen to the existing, perfectly fine albums that were released. Do you happen to have some lazy, half-arsed reworkings, maybe done by the lead singer of the band...yeah, a sort of vanity project, I guess...What's that? 'Mansun Retold'?...Sounds absolute cack. It's out now, is it? OK, I'll give it a listen, cheers."
And so goes the rather implausible introduction to Paul Draper's latest...I'm reluctant to say 'album', for this collection of recordings feels like a pure cash-grab, foisted on a fanbase who have already seen Mansun's legacy and reputation squeezed to the point of near-death via a reissue campaign of anniversary editions, Record Store Day ‘exclusives’ and a behemoth of a box set (the superb 'Closed for Business' that contained practically every Mansun track ever recorded and then some, on top of books, signed bits and a DVD). Seriously, if you don't have enough Mansun in your life by now, you never will.
Unfortunately, nobody appears to have told Mr. Draper, who woke up one day and decided that people DID need to be exposed to more of his god-like genius, by way of eleven re-recordings/re-workings/piss-poor sacriligous defilements of his own work from the past thirty years. If you're so inclined to go looking, there's the usual PR bumf about this project aiming to deliver Mansun's output in a more "mature" way (i.e. not quite as good as the originals with a definite whiff of karaoke about them), but any clear-thinking music fan will recognise this as wafer-thin justification for rinsing people with another round of stuff we've heard before. It's such a conundrum as to who this is aimed at that I've only just stopped banging my head against the wall trying to work it out. New fans wanting to explore Mansun are going to stream the original tracks, or get a 'best of' album. They certainly aren't going to invest in a cover versions album by the lead singer who thinks he's widening people's musical horizons. As for existing fans, the only draw I can think of is that people might be tempted to believe Draper really has done something bizarrely different to the songs - are they perhaps presented as jazz interpretations? Spoken word monologues soundtracked by strange, off-kilter musique? Happy Hardcore dance versions?
I know the naysayers and rabid sycophants will state the obvious, that Draper is not force-feeding this down our throats; we're all responsible adults who have our own minds and free-will. Fine. Some perverts may even find they enjoy this sort of thing. But of course, people will want to support a performer they've grown up with, who perhaps soundtracked their youth, or memorable times in their lives. And the way Draper made it sound, these would be radical, worthwhile re-recordings that shine a brand new light on several well-known Mansun tracks, along with some deeper cuts. An interesting listen, in other words.
What he's served up, however, is at best, not that different from the original recordings, and at worst, tarnished the songs forever by generally phoning-in his performances with the air of a middle-aged rock-star who saw what the potential profit margin on such an endeavour might be, twinned with the fact he didn't have to write any new songs. I'm pretty sure Da Vinci didn't do another version of The Mona Lisa after the original had existed for three decades and said: "You know what, fuck the original, this one's much better." Likewise, nobody felt the need to remake the Hitchcock classic 'Psycho' practically shot-for-shot, thinking it would be an improvement on...oh, wait. That one DID happen, and look how that fucking pile of steaming dog-shit turned out.
Bands and performers have always looked for ways to rehash old material, whether it be dodgy remix albums, performing entire albums in full, live in concert, or whacking an orchestra on some studio versions and buggering off down the pub. Unfortunately, such behaviour will only continue infinitum as, by the very law of the passing of time, music becomes ever-more-difficult to be fresh and original.
Some bands have successfully re-recorded past glories (although Kraftwerk are perhaps the only ones I can think of) when they set about digitising their output for the 1991 greatest hits/re-recordings album 'The Mix'. While arguably not better than the originals, they certainly gave the tracks a fresh sheen for a new decade, and the evidence was plain to hear. With 'Mansun Retold', the changes are - for the most part - so subtle, it requires a direct comparison to the original, before any enthusiasm wanes completely and you just leave the actual Mansun tracks on, because let me tell you, there's absolutely no reason or point in regarding Draper's solo reworkings as improvements. It just ain't gonna happen. For the avid Draper mentalist, the cash-grab thumb-screws are tightened another notch with a 4-disc book edition that adds "stripped back" versions (which sound practically tortuous given the pointlessness of the original concept) and a Surround Sound disc, which must really feel like you're trapped in a SoHo karaoke booth with Draper, as he tries to find the right key for each song and warbles them, semi-pissed, into your ear before vomiting all over your shoes.
The whole debacle has an air of desperation about it, a defiant refusal to accept that Mansun WERE a big deal in the late nineties, but not so much since then. Despite some chart success, I never felt Mansun fully got the recognition they deserved back in the day, which was a shame, but times move on. While I love Mansun's music, projects like this really leave a bad taste in the mouth and cheapen the songs that initially drew me in - surely the opposite of what was intended by this venture?
Draper's former band-mates have certainly moved on, and its clear that the animosity that led to their messy disbanding in the mid-2000s still remains. While none of this can be definitively proven as being Draper's fault, there's no smoke without fire. While some members of other bands who've had their day naturally assume the mantle of archiver and executor of their estate, it seems Draper has taken this to the max, clutching feverishly at Mansun's output in a white-knuckled, paranoid fury, lovingly stroking boxes of master tapes (and possibly growling "MY PRECIOUS...!!" at them) demanding to be revered as the indie-rock god writer of some of the most important music ever to have been released between 1995-2004. It's a wonder he's not yet changed his name via deed-poll to 'Paul Draper From Mansun'.
Sadly, it's evident that the other three members of Mansun brought so much to the table in making the original songs what they were, and with only one-quarter of said band regurgitating cover versions of his own material, the results are far from palatable. I was quite sad upon hearing the album initially - the audio equivalent of seeing a loved one on their death-bed - but now I just feel angry about it; that great songs like this have been treated with such feckless abandon, and we're expected to like it. For instance, the epic 'Dark Mavis' - once a grand and evocative closing track on the band's debut album, has been thrown to the ground, given a damn good kicking and left to expire slowly in a puddle of its own piss and droppings. It's unforgivably soul-less. At other times, Draper stuggles to defy the ravages of time, with a voice that is no longer what is was in 1997. On the flip-side, he handles certain other vocal duties completely fine, only adding to the disjointed, inconsistent feel.
One can only hope Draper can, in the future, feel comfortable writing and recording new, original music, as when he does, the results can be extraordinary, as evidenced by his two solo albums 'Spooky Action' and 'Cult Leader Tactics'. He just needs the self-belief to drop his worrying obsession with all things Mansun, and perhaps we will once again see what he is capable of delivering. Until then, better to use the CD of 'Mansun Retold' as a coaster, and the LP as...I don't know, a place-mat or a frisbee or something. It'll certainly be more use than listening to the damn thing.
Avoid, avoid, avoid - lest we encourage a second volume of this musical twattery.
Words by Chester Gherkin