It's always a bad sign when a pop star gets bored with straightforward hits and decides to become an 'artist' instead. Finley Quaye's second album is a mess, an endless succession of rock and reggae grooves ruined by meandering, incoherent lyrics about Rasta beliefs and the evils of Babylon. It's trite, preachy and ultimately extremely irritating. Quaye is a genuine talent but he badly needs to find some self-discipline soon if he is not to slide into irrelevancy.
