Why, oh why do you do this to us Richard Ashcroft?

Your disregard for melody is just getting in the way of your ego, which is in desperate need of popping as it is. Listen to 'Why Not Nothing?' – can you honestly say there's actually a discernable tune there, buried deep below the monotonous whining? Not that there should be, of course; you could well be working on an atonal ambient post-noise vanity project of some kind… what? This is your main project? Oh.

Well anyway, that you call yourself a pop writer and, as such, are allowed to release this kind of dull, flaccid thwacking-fest is beyond me. There's nothing in the way of dynamic variety, no timbral shifts away from token honking horns (so very British…) and your own nasal splats of vocal vomit sliding down the studio wall. Nothing.

And your B-Side… 'Sweet Brother Malcolm'… I know Nick Drake is dead, but it's going a bit far to steal his ideas quite as brazenly as this. Acoustic drudgery thinly veiled by the public's readiness to love you does not give you the excuse to be as lazy as this. Drake is, no doubt upon hearing this, lighting a joint before rolling over in his grave. Non-descript lyrical sentiments aside, this stench of an excuse for a lament to nothing is entirely indicative of your dull solo career to date and fit only for consumption at David Gray's funeral.

So, Richard. What have you to say for yourself? What? You're still really rich and can get away with releasing anything? Oh. Fair enough then.