The careers of most music celebrities are like passenger ships, able to steam along nearly indefinitely without the least chance of modifying course. With his work of the 21st century,
Robbie Williams
appeared to have set himself on a course that was guaranteed to keep him working for decades, remaining important to thousands of fans, but never varying from the type of
adult alternative
singer/songwriter
material expected of him. Then came
Rudebox
, which proves he's not that simple -- or at least, not that satisfied with himself. It may be a good album because it says little about his inner life and emotional troubles, which are unceremoniously dropped in favor of hyper-sexualized or sarcastic dance music and ironic laugh-getters ("Make your body shake like you stood on a land mine," "Dance like you just won at the Special Olympics"). It may be a good album because it has some of the best productions of his career, usually amped-up
electro
-
disco
from the duo
Soul Mekanik
or goofy
hip-hop
soul
from
Mark Ronson
(which makes him come across as
Justin Timberlake
at some points and
Gnarls Barkley
at others). It's certainly a good record in comparison to its two predecessors, which suffered from a lack of vitality. (For example, while 2005's
Intensive Care
desultorily attempted to rewrite
the Human League
's
"Louise,"
simply covers the song, with much more feeling.) Compared to
Escapology
and
,
is not only loose and fun but, for the first time in
Williams
' career, receptive to outside help; aside from the producers,
Lily Allen
the Pet Shop Boys
make appearances, and
Robbie
covers songs from
Manu Chao
Lewis Taylor
Stephen Duffy
, and the indie band
My Robot Friend
. Not that the record is perfect; in fact, it has a few of the most embarrassing moments in
' career. The lyrics occasionally devolve into
nonsense ("Got no strings, but I think with my ding-a-ling/
Wu-Tang
with the bling-bling, sing a song of Sing Sing").
"The 80s"
is even worse, a nostalgic but monotone
rap
that oddly balances adolescent trauma and pop culture ("Auntie Jo died of cancer/God didn't have an answer/Rhythm was a dancer"). Still, the next track after
is
"The 90s,"
a surprisingly bewitching chronicle of his boy-band years from 1990 to 1995. The fact remains that every track here is better and more interesting than anything from the previous two LPs, despite the occasional embarrassing couplet or misguided musical idea. ~ John Bush