Unfortunately, former Wonder Stuff vocalist Miles Hunt sometimes knows no other way of a vying for a listener's attention than by a lot of inappropriate keening, and over- emotional pleading, much like an infant having a tantrum, or some hysterical loon freaking out on coke. It's sort of like writers using too many exclamation points in their prose-- it's a cheap ploy to try and grab the reader's attention and convey some kind of urgency or excitement that, otherwise, isn't really apparent.

And maybe you're all too familiar with Hunt's old band. But, then again, how many people on these shores remember that tuneless, gelatinous Brit-pop mess, the Wonder Stuff? Along with Jesus Jones and James, the Stuffies were one of the few early '90s English grunge- meets- dance pop bands that were actually worse than Ned's Atomic Dustbin. Plus, they just looked like a buncha goddamned hippies. The band's last studio album, 1993's aptly- titled Constructions for the Modern Idiot, was chock full of shabbily- written Sex Pistols- meet- Bee Gees rubbish. In America, the album was totally ignored, and made the few that actually listened to it physically ill. And even the culture- deprived English public, who'll pretty much champion anything, didn't quite accept this last Wonder Stuff offering.

Admittedly, when I sat down to review Hairy on the Inside, I was excited at the prospect of penning another totally biased, Brit- bashing review, and condemning yet another gutless modern- rock atrocity bearing the Union Jack stamp of Royal Overratedness. And who does this Miles Hunt think he is anyway, making a solo album? I mean, it's bad enough Elektra allowed former Jellyfish frontman Jason Falkner to make a solo record. But Miles Hunt?! Well, hell, he's got problems, just like you, cap'n and probably more. He's probably got an acoustic guitar in his bedroom. So why shouldn't he burn a homemade disc and publicize his abject pain like everyone else these days?

As you may know, lead singers of the limey persuasion are notorious not only for having outrageously overblown egos, but also a penchant for flashy hyper- melodrama. Yet, when it really comes down to it, restraint and understatement can oftentimes be more interesting, depending on the circumstances. Certain vocalists (both British and non- British) can, for reasons still unknown to me, consistently get away with near- ridiculous over- acting-- look at Nick Drake, Scott Walker and Mark Eitzel.

But Hunt's out- of- control vocal moments stand in stark contrast to the quaint acoustic simplicity that many of the songs on Hairy on the Inside are founded upon. Fortunately, Hunt's overbearing vocals and awkward- sounding lyrics don't ruin every song. Some surprisingly solid craftmanship shines through occasionally. Some of these songs actually hint at Bedhead or early Galaxie 500. After slurping some valium- laced herbal tea or something, Hunt will sometimes ease his voice through a melodious, chiming pop number such as "Immortalizing Chase." The melancholic overtones of "The Slow Drowning" are believable, and make for a surprisingly compelling listen. Here, even the schmaltzy string section works well contextually.

As if there were any question, Hunt's not the next Bob Dylan. And he's probably not even the next Donovan. He can still be a bitchy, whiny bastard. But I'm giving him the benefit of the doubt somewhat, because Hairy on the Inside is a gargantuan achievement compared to the stagnant, plasmatic puddles of sonic waste the Wonder Stuff left behind.

I still found myself skipping around the record a little too frequently, though. I had to fast- forward over Hunt's more grating vocal fits that would warrant, at best, a firm box on the ears. At worst, he resembles the master of the overdone vocal, Styx's Dennis DeYoung doing "Sing for the Day" or "Babe." Check the juvenile ode to Hunt's winter of discontent, "Everything's Not OK:" "Calvary are not on their way/ The murder mile's a step away/ I could flip a coin but who's to say/ That it will change the outcome of this day." Dude, shut up. The ludicrous vocal and lyrical escapades on "Let's Hope I Get It Right This Time" demand a jolly good thrashing: "I can not wait for the blessings of merit!/ And as for the measure of custom, my soul I discredit!" Dude, shut up!

"Getting Over You," however, represents the opposite end of the spectrum-- the tolerable, easygoing Hunt. This song's wholly listenable, despite lines like: "It's no good wishing you were dead/ I'm no good with tragedy/ Any better than I am with dealing with myself." And if those languid, oceanic Dean Wareham- influenced guitar lines don't take you back to that first audit of Galaxie 500's This is Our Music, then probably not much else will.

Then, amazingly, comes a real diamond in the rough in "Four to the Floor," bearing a nice vintage British Isles folk feel. I was so blown away that this is the former frontman of the Wonder Stuff, that I began juggling a jumble of meaningless, hyperbolic music crit comparisons in my head, like "Man, he's the James Taylor of the '90s" (although Elliott Smith may actually hold this honor currently), "The guy's Judy Collins with a penis!" or "Fuckin' A-- Dude's the closest thing our species has to the hummingbird." But regardless of what I have to say about it, Hairy on the Inside still consists of the same old shit. The songs are generally polished and tersely constructed. But they offer just enough contrast to keep from sounding like every other cred-less acoustic singer/ songwriter plucking the same folky chord progressions and singing songs about what a heap of shit life is. The production is mercifully spare, too-- I mean, Hunt could have just as easily opted to festoon the tracks with major label- friendly digital effects, fake drums, theremin, vocoders, or some other equally voguish ornamentation. Instead he opts for baroque string sections, mandolins, and minimal percussion, which is, for the most part, okay by me.

The downside is, Hunt's a mediocre lyricist and probably won't be writing the next "Blowin' in the Wind" (or even "Dust in the Wind," for that matter) any time soon. But the gently- rocking Hairy on the Inside is a surprisingly decent effort, especially for this former oozing earsore of a Wonder Stuff singer.

-Michael Sandlin