Robbie Williams: Escapology

By RUSSELL BAILLIE

(Herald rating: * * )

Hopefully the £80 million contract Williams signed to carry on acting as British pop's Royal Mint contained a clause to stop him ever doing another album like last year's Swing When You're Winning.

Thankfully, here the walking smirk is back to his old devices - lyrics that are painfully self-aware spliced with Carry On humour, magpie tendencies, songs that could have been Elton John tunes in a former life, grand ballads and calculated rockers.

There are a few new moves - like his first solo writing effort on the closing Nan's Song, a valedictory to a dearly departed Grandma. Well, it means well with its mile-wide sentimental streak, backed by acoustic guitars and string section undoubtedly putting in on instant high rotate on Undertaker FM.

And then there are Williams' curiously craven efforts to embrace America and specifically LA on tracks such as Song3 (a poor relation to Blur's Song2) and Hot Fudge (an Elton-esque ivory-stomper). It's also there in the West Coast punkpop whine behind Handsome Man, a song that reminds us nay- sayers "You can't argue with popularity".

But maybe you can - and you can certainly argue that Me and My Monkey is the worst thing he's ever recorded - because you'd think for that much dosh there would be 14 hits, but listening to this, you do wonder after a U2-ish first single Feel what is going to keep his end up in radioland?

Certainly there are few slow-waving ballads (Sexed Up, the Queen-ish Love Somebody, the duet Revolution) which might do the trick. But whether it's Come Undone, Monsoon or one of the other tracks on which Williams bangs on about his tabloid life, the me-me-me aspect makes much of Escapology charmless and annoying.

Label: Chrysalis