You remember Bush, right? The purveyors of grungey almost-anthems who mysteriously sold 10 million albums to gullible Americans in the mid-’90s? Personally, I think they just missed Pearl Jam, and Mr. Gwen Stefani’s bargain-basement Eddie Vedderisms seemed to fit the bill. Unfortunately, now that Vedder and his morose men have their mojo back, Gavin’s looking a little redundant. In an effort to regain credibility, he’s gotten the most expensive producer he can find (Bob Rock, whose work with Metallica gives you an idea how innovative he is) to add the most expensive gloss possible to a seriously shaky set of songs. The ska borrowings of ‘Future World’, for example, need to be drenched in several gallons of grunge clichés to hide how ridiculous Rossdale sounds bellowing over a sub-Jah Wobble bassline. ‘Big music, big themes’ seem to be his watchwords, but getting him to cut to the heart of ethical dilemmas is like getting a four-year-old to perform surgery with a carving knife. (“Hamburgers so that we stay alive/But Happy Meals mean something died.” Indeed.) It all feels about as urgent as Axl Rose’s need to finish Chinese Democracy, and indeed this turgid swamp of a record has something of the consistency of Rose’s overblown experiments. Don’t get me wrong – Rossdale pulls off a few convincing stadium-rock poses here and there. The quicksilver, shimmering guitar of ‘Drive’ is a case in point, and ‘Frontline’ recalls recent U2. But, while they can raise a cheer simply by referencing their back-catalogues, Rossdale's career has offered precious little to get excited about up till now - and this album continues the trend.

Key Track: ‘Frontline’