losing his flava?

Sunday Herald, The, Nov 10, 2002 by rock

reviewed Craig DavidSlicker than your average(wildstar)HHH Tom JonesMr Jones(V2)H Tom PettyThe last DJ(WEA)HHH V-Twinthe blues is a minefield(Domino)HHH

THROUGH no fault of his own, goateed pop-star-next-door Craig David has become a favoured target of many comedians. Square-headed mimic David Walliams does a mean impression of him on Rock Profiles, and recently there's been an alarmingly large-chinned latex incarnation of the man who makes love Wednesday-through-Saturday on Channel 4's Bo' Selecta.

The boy David is far too nice to kick up a fuss about all this, but the opening, title track of his second album - the follow-up to the seven million-selling debut Born To Do It - specifically targets those who disrespect him for achieving considerable mainstream success. "Now they're telling me that I'm too R&B," he sings. "How I turned my back on the whole garage scene."

It doesn't seem to have affected his "flow", however; David still manages to smooth out the most tongue-twisting of silly-limerick lyrics into oleaginous, lilting lines.

But those that accuse him of abandoning his roots have a point; after a prolonged attempt to "break" America, David has bounced back as a fully-rounded pop star; as at home with saucy digital funk (like current single What's Your Flava?) as lady-wooing ballads (as on the hormonal sugar-rush of Personal). No chances have been taken with the choice of material - for the most part, strong, well-produced pop songs, including World Filled With Love, which sounds like one of Robbie Williams's Beatles-influenced mid-tempo chart-stompers - but there are two problems. One, he enlists help from Sting on the dreary Rise & Fall. And two, I still don't buy his saucy Mr Lover-Lover act; for all his lyrical suggestiveness, David is only slightly more sexually menacing than Gareth Gates.

Now, if you want to talk about primal horniness, here's a man who's been basting in it for decades. Leathery Welsh dinosaur Tom Jones recently clambered back into fashion off the back of a duets album with younger talent. In an attempt to consolidate his success, he's enlisted ex-Fugee Wyclef Jean to give him a hip hop makeover.

Dr Dre needn't lose any sleep, though. Jones, while always enthusiastic, is clearly uncomfortable in this new musical terrain, and whenever he attempts to employ some street argot, the result is tortuous; as excruciating as watching David Brent attempt to ingratiate himself with his staff in The Office.

Far better is the new album from Tom Petty and his Heartbreakers. The Last DJ is a concept album which seems hell-bent on revealing the modern music industry as the unpleasant, money-making reprocessed meat factory that it is. Against a driving, typically Heartbreakers- esque soundscape of country-influenced rock'n'roll, Petty engages his chosen targets with a directness and venom that, while didactic, is still audacious. "My name's Joe, I'm the CEO," goes one diatribe. "You get to be famous, I get to be rich." Not the subtlest record in the world, but a sometimes exhilarating one.

Finally, there's the long-delayed debut album from Glasgow band V- Twin. Years and years in the making, it's a slightly over-cooked collection of rickety soul, space psychedelia and straight-down rock'n'roll, but contains some inspired far-out moments. A promising start.