Elsewhere in Tracks we’ve mused about how ‘Jamiroquai-like production’ is a phrase as welcome as a bailiff visit, but the marshmallow-like squelch of ‘Glory Days’ sounds distinctly like JJ’s attempt to assume Jay Kay’s vacant crown of repellent bath pop. “Like Joss Stone, my heart melts like ice cream cones”, he drawls, at the precise point where we wonder if we’re actually listening to Simply Red after a lobotomy.
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