From making lovelorn demos in his bedroom to topping the charts with a catchy garage-style pop single, it's been quite a year for Daniel Bedingfield. Sad to report, then, that his debut album casts serious doubts on whether this bashful young Londoner is really good enough to last the course. The advance publicity that this was the new Craig David proves to be depressingly wide of the mark, as Bedingfield rolls out a string of syrupy ballads that even Celine Dion might reject for being too insipid. It's true that the songs are full of interesting instrumental trappings such as crisp electro snares and elegant synth-strings, but no amount of decoration can take away from the fact that the core of this album is just about as bland as it gets. It doesn't help, either, that Bedingfield's vocal delivery is ridiculously mannered at times, affecting an air of cool detachment that he's just not charismatic enough to carry off. It would be a shame to see this likeable character end up as just another one hit wonder - but without better material than this, that's exactly what he's going to become.

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