So the more Ian Brown resists the filthy lucre of the Stone Roses reunion the more it comes to define his solo career and the more caps are doffed to a man being firm to his beliefs and true to his values. Not to get too teary-eyed about it, but it almost restores your faith in humanity. Man.

Of course it also means that if he now agrees to a 120 date tour of aircraft hangers up and down the country, the shoots of optimism sprouting in thousands of souls would immediately be destroyed by the icy blast of cynicism that would sweep over their very being. They'd probably have to kill themselves. Or at least download the entire The Smiths back catalogue to listen to on an endless loop while writing some god-awful poetry.

Which would probably be of no concern to Messrs. Brown, Squire, Mani and Reni as they flew to the moon in their solid platinum spaceships. But it could be construed as a bit of added pressure. Particularly as Brown's last album - The World Is Yours - was probably his wobbliest to date. A clumsy hodge-podge of half-hearted soapboxing, clumsy lyrics and a deficit of hooks.

But My Way bucks the trend. In fact, if the trend had happened to be riding on the back of this, it would now be buried in the dirt having been repeatedly gored, trampled and then laughed at by a bloodthirsty mob.

It's clearly an Ian Brown record, but there's an easy mastery of things previously introduced. The string-beds, the mariachi horns, the deep mystical groove, they're all elements which have appeared in isolation on separate outings, but here are brought together in spectacular fashion.

Stellify swaggers around confidently, built around an insistent synth-coda and marching beat. But it's not a confrontational confidence - this isn't a song that struts around the pub looking for a fight and inappropriately leering at your girlfriend. It's a song that would stride up, warmly wrap you in an embrace and point at the stars, whispering of the marvels of the universe.

It's near genius. As is the way he takes a dreadful novelty record from the '60s (In The Year 2525) and turns it into something you can bear for more than 30 seconds. As is the way he manages to make a song based around the concept of playing Boggle with his own name sound like a Detroit techno remix of a good idea. As for the near-ballad grandstanding of For The Glory, well that's just a triumphant, euphoric masterpiece.

Ian Brown just keeps on getting better. As it stands, his way seems like the only way to go.

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Mercury Prize 2009 nominees