TIM ROSE was previously one of those 'names' to be bandied about. Critically acclaimed as the man responsible for recording the 'definitive' "Hey Joe" prior for Hendrix and also for recording the oft-covered "Morning Dew", he'd quietly become one of the folk-rockers of note among the more literate rock cognoscenti, hanging out with the likes of Nick Cave in the years before his recent untimely demise.
So this reviewer approached this generously far-reaching 20-track collection of Rose's work with a sense of intrigue, but little real concrete knowledge. Certainly, he wasn't expecting the meaty, rugged riffs that introduce the opening "It Takes A Little Longer": a fizzing 2 minutes 45 seconds that smashed my previous illusions of Rose as a sensitive singer/ songwriter to so many smithereens.
Most of what follows does little to piece that fragile image back together, but - once a little preconception-altering job has been done - there's plenty to peruse in Rose's gutsy back catalogue, with songs like the revenge-fuelled souls review heaviosity of "Ode To An Odd Ball" coming on strong.
Of course, "Hey Joe" and "Morning Dew" aside (not included here, weirdly), Rose was also highly regarded for re-interpreting Tim Hardin's venerated songbook, and certainly those of you (like me) who came to "If I Were A Carpenter" via The Small Faces will enjoy Rose's hard, funky take and note that - like Steve Marriott - his powerful, gritty larynx was the perfect vehicle for such a song.
Also, one listen to tracks like "I Know These Two People" and "Dim Light A Burning" makes it infinitely clear why Rose's muse would have attracted the likes of Cave. The former is a harpsichord-assisted domestic strife tale with overtones of Scott Walker's early solo work, while the prowling, descriptive blues of "Dim Light A Burning" allies with Rose's fine, gutteral vocals to recall Cave at his murderous, erudite best.
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It doesn;t all work so effectively. The overblown, Joe Cocker-ish revamping of "(You've Got To) Hide Your Love Away" misses the point of The Beatles' original; "Jamie Sue" falls foul of a similar approach and even in this swaggering, bar-room setting, "Where Do You Go To My Lovely?" is still a steaming heap of shit. Thankfully, memories of these are quickly obliterated by the unlikely, Who-style powerchord attack of "Cryin' Shame", Rose's bourbon-soaked howl throughout the Stones-y "Cotton Growin' Man" and the funky, but ominous "Goin' Down In Hollywood" that closes the proceedings.
"Love: A kind Of Hate Story", then, is too pock-marked with blemishs to hail as an absolute stunner. However, with a little judicious use of the skip button it's a satisfying listen and an edifying introduction to this enduring cult artist. Just don't expect to fulfil those sensitive singer/ songwriter images: the idea of Tim Rose as a transatlantic Nick Drake is a preconception you'll need to drop at the door when you enter here.
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