Version

I'm sure Mark Ronson's a real talented DJ, a kickass producer, and a formidable music connoisseur, with or without the rock'n'roll silver spoon inherited from his step-daddy, Foreigner co-founder Mick Jones. Hell, even his block party of a debut, 2003's star-studded Here Comes the Fuzz, had its share of interesting musical ideas. However, it's hard to look at Version-- a guest artist-boosted showcase that comes on the heels of Ronson's production work for Lily Allen and Amy Winehouse-- as anything but a cash-grab. Not that cover albums can't be eclectic, but there's little-to-no coherence between the songs chosen here except for the fact that the artists who wrote them are UK chart mainstays.

While song selection seems suspect on Version, it's not the deal-breaker. Ronson is a phenomenal multi-instrumentalist, but someone's gotta cut him off at a certain number of horn and string sections. For example, hearing a moody, standoffish anthem like the Smiths' "Stop Me If You Think You've Heard This One Before" (its presence here a cheeky nod to critics who'd call this entire album superfluous) get dusted off and given the Pygmalion treatment smacks of indie blasphemy, the canned strings and Daniel Merriweather's schmaltzy croon clumsily converting Morrissey into a blaxploitation theme.

To Ronson's credit, what should be the most egregious track on the album, a cover of Radiohead's "Just", is actually a standout. Nicked from last year's abysmal Radiohead tribute album Exit Music: Songs With Radio Heads [review], the track finds Phantom Planet's Alex Greenwald adding a playful dose of white-boy funk, and is one of the few instances where Ronson's hip-hop proclivities come in handy. Still, slapping a brand new bag on these pasty-white-dude tunes more often bombs than not. Maxïmo Park's "Apply Some Pressure"-- re-interpreted here with help from MP singer Paul Smith-- loses its jagged post-punk edge amidst the lush horns and thin symphonic outro, and the Zutons' "Valerie" gets mauled by Amy Winehouse, bent and twisted until it sounds like a spare part of "Rehab".

What this all boils down to is that Ronson probably would've been better off remixing these songs than dolling them up with droves of big-name mercenaries and genre-fucking. Most of Version's tracks have little replay value, shaking your attention before you can say, "So that's what 'God Put a Smile Upon Your Face' would sound like played by a high school marching band." And of course, a handful of the originals just weren't that great to begin with. Maybe I'm giving Ronson more credit than he deserves, but the guy's too talented to smash square pegs into readymade round holes and abet the ongoing implosion of pop music as we know it.