Moby: 18

By RUSSELL BAILLIE

(Herald rating: * * * )

The decision with this one: Buy now or wait for it to permeate. Moby's last, Play, sure reached saturation point through advertising, soundtracks and a million boutique and cafe stereo systems.

Before it became a collection of designer jingles, it was a pretty good, if scatty and over-long, album which pulled off the trick - on its most memorable tracks built around the vocal samples of vintage folk-blues and gospel singers - of sounding earthy but modern.

That it became a lifestyle accessory to its nearly 10 million buyers worldwide shouldn't really count against it. But still, it's hard to hear the producer-songwriter's latest without thinking "sequel". Or wondering if the runaway success of Play has hemmed 18 into a musical comfort zone.

Like Play, it's a similar balance of that "Oh-Lordy-Trouble-So-Hard" sampled sadness (just lifted from 70s soul instead), flowery keyboard instrumentals, and Moby's own little musical That 80s Show.

Which means a typical sequence might be Moby barking over the Joy Division/New Order electro-rock of Extreme Ways, the prehistoric hip-hop of Jam for the Ladies (featuring Angie Stone), then Sunday (The Day Before My Birthday) with its grand strings and lifted soul diva vocals expressing this Manhattan resident's feelings about his last birthday - September 11. Obviously no one gifted him a new beatbox or fresh chords for the occasion either.

While the likes of Another Woman sounds inspired in its counterpoint of vocal melody and bassline, the frequent stately atmosphere pieces like the title track show Moby's ongoing debt to composer Angelo Badalamenti whose Twin Peaks theme he sampled for early techno-hit Go.

And so it goes, with largely no surprises - except when Sinead O'Connor helps make the hypnotic Harbour a song that couldn't have been on Play. Nor could the Heroes-period Bowie homage that is opener and first single We Are All Made of Stars.

It starts as an album that twinkles prettily, sadly, sensitively in the background. But, oh lordy, it never really shines.

Label: Mute/Virgin