Damn you, Jamiroquai. I don't want to like you. Every fibre of my being says not to. Your facile disco redux thing is as tired as original disco, and you've been relying on the same bag of vocal tricks for the last decade. Even your lyrics are hard to take; the whole Deee-Lite free-your-mind, free-your-funky-soul thing is as 90s as, well, you (and your UK Cameo-esque nasal voice). And yet, Mr. Virtual Insanity, the production, arrangements and instrumentation on your new record are often dark, powerful and edgy, peppered with scads of cool Daft Punkish breaks and bass lines that help the project transcend cheese, saxophones and all.