Jim E. Brown - The Very Best of Jim E. Brown

Jim E. Brown has been described as many things. Obese. Alcoholic. 19-years old. Enigmatic; a deeply British man inexplicably drawn to the American city of Philadelphia where he has become known as much for his volubility as his love for chips butty. Some may say he’s cruel, or self-indulgent; tricking poor, sober, American women looking for love with a false Instagram account where he presents as sober. 

But I would not say Jim E. Brown is any of these things. Rather, I would say that Jim E. Brown is a rock star, and maybe even the last true one we will ever have. British, alcoholic, and deeply unafraid to lie to women via Instagram, he is essentially the spiritual successor to every member of The Beatles. A rising star so bright no one could ever hope to diminish its glow, not even with a copy of Catcher in the Rye.

All of this is moot however. As what separates Jim E. Brown from the dirty, unwashed masses of Philly’s many other musicians is not his savvy lyricism or indelible sex appeal but the simple fact that he has a greatest hits album and they do not. This isn’t the seventies anymore. They don’t just give those out to anybody. 

And greatest hits they are! Humanistic, sensual, and unquestionably thought-provoking, The Very Best of Jim E. Brown cements this modern troubadour as an inescapable part of rock’n’roll history. “I’m an Obese Alcoholic” is an instant classic, a poignant exploration of side effects read-off WebMD that would make even Townes Van Zandt pause and consider the implications. “Squeal Like a Pig” turns Mr. Brown’s poetic gaze to less morbid topics as he expresses his adoration for a partner. A cool, lofi pop diddy, it is a perfectly acceptable song to pass along to a woman who you are romantically involved with. It may even make her feel special. 

If Dr. Brown is nothing else, however, he is a man of the people. “Writing Love Letters at McDonalds”, “I Don’t Want a Boneless Woman”, and “Help! I Swallowed a Button Battery” shows that even as he ascends to rock’n’roll godhood, Jim E. Brown, Esq is in touch with the squalid, depressing life of us everyday people. This is something I appreciate greatly, as I always felt that all that alien stuff David Bowie did may have made sense to him, but certainly not to me. 

This is not to say that Jim E. Brown is not capable of more esoteric thought. “Human, Not Hot Dog” highlights the often discussed yet still perplexing conundrum of who is human, and who is hot dog. Much like predecessors Adam and His Package, it is a self-contained and perfectly pleasant synth pop song accentuated by Mr. Brown’s far more personable and grounded performance. And while some may even draw comparisons between Jim E. Brown and Wesley Willis or, pray tell, even Daniel Johnston, then surely “I Texted You a Photo of the Sunset and You Never Responded” will put such silly claims to rest. Perhaps stylistically similar, the former two could never hope to match the ephemeral wisdom of the latter. Jim E. Brown, after all, is simply in a class all his own.