Ben Folds - The Best Imitation Of Myself: A Retrospective

It’s arguable that the lot of a pianist, especially one who doesn’t want to be a classical pianist, is a pretty crappy road to walk down. As Giles Smith put it in his biography of life as a failed musician, ‘Lost In Music’, ‘The agony of being a pianist is, it seems to me, easily sourced: you aren’t a guitarist’. In the 80s, all pianists were indescribably compelled to purchase ‘keytars’, you know, those keyboard things that were designed to look like guitars, favoured by the likes of Devo and probably Haircut 100, which in itself goes some way to proving Smith’s point. Because you think ‘rock star pianist’ and invariably, Elton John springs into your head, and musically that’s fine, in places (oh alright, place: Tiny Dancer), but you can’t get those ridiculous glasses out of your head, can you? Think a bit harder, and you might come out with (urgh) Keane. Or there’s Chris Lowe, standing motionless and expressionless, whilst Neil Tennant has all the fun. There are doubtless exceptions to the rule, of course, there are exceptions to every rule. And we’re giving Ben Folds exactly three discs to prove to us exactly why we should pop him in the ‘omitted’ category.

Moreover, there’s something else that this retrospective needs to definitively prove to us, if we’re to take Fold’s back into our hearts, and that is that he’s not doing a massive flipping cash in (kerching). Because, if we’re brutally honest, we’ve not been bothered about him for a while, right? It goes without saying that the Ben Folds Five albums were brilliant, and there’s a special place in this heart for that first solo album, but continue further down that lineage and we’re staring ‘Jesusland’ straight in the eyeballs, and that’s no place for a girl like me. And we’re not going to talk about Shatner, okay?

Split into three sections, a perceived ‘Best Of’ that misses out half of his best works, a live CD wherein you’ll find those missing tracks, and the final disc of demos and rarities. There’s plenty to keep the interest of both die-hard fans and the uninitiated piqued here, all wrapped up in one of the most horrible cover designs ever to grace the walls of our record collections. The lack of chronological order might be considered to be a deliberate move, designed to disguise the fact that Folds early career, wherein he and those other two blokes churned out the likes of ‘Brick’, ‘Army’ and ‘Philosophy’ with apparent ease, was clearly his best period. Back then, it was so easy to buy into his piano thumping schtick, his lyrical intelligence combined with simple storytelling, that the Elton John influence was covered up nicely, thanks. Torrid tales of rubbish relationships (“I wish I hadn’t bought you dinner, right before you dumped me” - ‘Song For The Dumped’), teenage abortions (‘Brick’) and pondering over whether it would be better if the person who’d stood you up hadn’t forgotten, but instead been in some kind of terrible accident (‘Annie Waits’), tricked us into believing that four times married Fold’s ex-wives all despising him was, for us at least, a good thing.

Sadly, the lesser half of his career, it’s been less of the case. The last couple of solo albums have left me cold, but that’s okay, because whilst they’re touched on by ‘Landed’ and ‘Gracie’, they’re tucked away, cleverly hidden amongst the real gems. Which is not to say that he’s done nothing good for years, why, that cover of ‘Bitches Ain’t Shit’ almost makes you actually forget about Dre, it’s just that these three discs seem to definitively prove that Folds is at his best when he’s with the Five. Which in itself is lucky, because neatly tucked away at the end of disc one there’s a brand spanking new Ben Folds Five track. And fortunately for us, ‘House’, is epically brilliant, easily better than anything you’ll find on ‘Songs for Silverman’.

So, after all the hours of listening contained herein, what have we actually learned? Well, the first, obvious, lesson is that Ben Folds can’t choose decent cover art for shit. And the likelihood of Ben having owned a keytar is pretty slim, his Elton John dreams are still very much alive. But if the intention of this anthology is not just a cash cow, but instead to worm his way back into our record collection, then that Ben Folds Five reunion, why, that looks like the best move ever.