For me this album is 5 stars album too, btw.

Maybe C-, as Western countries say.

I have been reading Stevyy's history of his Robbie fandom on UKMIX , it's hilarious , Have you seen it Alex 😂

Tom Dunne: He mightn't really be Britpop, but you should still let Robbie Williams entertain you 

Robbie Williams has beaten the Beatles in terms of number one albums. Obviously, it's not a valid comparison, but the ex Take That man has made the most of his talents 

Robbie Williams at Croke Park last year. On one day in 2006 he sold 1.6 million tickets. Picture: Gareth Chaney

Wed, 28 Jan, 2026 - 21:00

Tom Dunne

Robbie Williams’ new album is called Britpop. It is his 16th UK number one. He has now overtaken The Beatles. He says it’s the album he should have made in 1997, when he was, you know, Britpop. But I think if he had made this album then, The Beatles would still be safe.

The album he did make back then, the non-Britpop adjacent Life Thru a Lens, featured Angels and sold three million. It was the beginning of his ubiquitousness. It made him bigger than Britpop. But bigger than The Beatles? We didn’t see that coming. I remember Robbie back then. Post Take That he was a star in search of a new universe, although mind you, they all were. And no one really wanted to know. Once, on radio, at an outside broadcast and stuck for guests, a researcher returned to say we’d been offered two of their ex-members.

The production tram were aghast. “You told them we have no slots didn’t you? You told them the Beth Orton interview would run long?” they pleaded.

“I’m young and inexperienced,” the researcher told us, “But I am no fool.” The sight of those boyband stars looking pleadingly into the studio haunts me still.

But you’d have taken Robbie. He was not like other Take That members. More a danger to himself than others, he was at all times box office. 

Releasing George Michael’s Freedom as his first post Take That single told you a lot. Robbie was young, free and ready to mingle

His invitation to appear at Slane in 1998 drew a mixed response. The line-up was The Verve, The Manic Street Preachers, Finley Quaye, James, the Seahorses and Junkster. There was a lot of post Britpop royalty there. It wasn’t shoegaze, but it wasn’t ex-boyband either. No gold lamé suits here.

Although we didn’t quite realise it, The Verve had actually peaked. Bittersweet Symphony had become more of an event than a single, as unavoidable as it was joyous on radio, but things were not good. The guitarist Nick McCabe had left after a gig in Germany nursing a broken hand. Ashcroft had been seen nursing a swollen jaw.

It was onto this stage that Robbie had stepped. The audience were suspicious of his credentials. We were Indie Rock for Indie People. He was greeted respectfully until he hit The La’s There She Goes. It was the perfect song choice. The audience melted, any early Robbie reluctance simply disappeared into the ether.

But it was at the after-show party that Robbie’s subsequent elevation to rock super stardom was all but assured. He could not be restrained from singing and entertaining till the small hours. He was electrifying, magnetic, mesmerising, funny and engaging. Qualities you just didn’t see in your regulation issue Britpop star.

The Britpop lads were stars: Noel, Damon, Brett and Jarvis exuded it; but it was a different kind of star quality. It was a kind of star quality that was wedded to and inseparable from the material they performed. They were not old school entertainers. No jazz hands here.

But Robbie was. Let me Entertain You could not have been more on the money. Songs to him were not reflections on northern life. They were the things he needed to perform, to sell, to trade on. When Robbie found a writer, Guy Chambers, who could match his star appeal with really well constructed songs, the hits started coming.

Quite quickly there were five UK number ones that included Millenium, She’s The One, Rock DJ, and Something Stupid with Nicole Kidman. On one day in 2006 he sold 1.6 million tickets. In 2002 he signed a record deal with EMI for £80 million. It is still the biggest record deal in British music history.

But his relationship to Britpop was at best tangential. He may have loved it, but he was never really a part of it. He was too big a star, too saleable, too adored by too many to ever have had to put in the long song-writing hours. His talent allowed him to outsource all that. Get me songs, get me shows and let me off.

The album, God save me, has a bang of “AI: Give me a Robbie Williams album in a Britpop style” about it. The strongest review I’ve heard so far was that it was “grand". Urban Hymns and Parklife can rest easy. 

Tom Dunne: He mightn't really be Britpop, but you should still let Robbie Williams entertain you

I want to shout at all of these critics ‘co-writer! Guy Chambers is a CO-WRITER!’

For goodness’ sake, it could not be better documented now, and it should be blimmin’ obvious from Guy’s distinct lack of serious post-Robbie hits. He is not Max Martin.

Also, anyone now claiming that Britpop was not alive and kicking in 97 and 98 is re-writing history. Oasis hype was at its absolute peak, and that wave did not crash down until Standing on the Shoulders of Giants in 2000.

Life Thru A Lens was Britpop and everyone at the time knew it. The revisionist history is because he bucked the trend of every other Britpop band and successfully moved on from it.

Edited January 29Jan 29 by Kathryn24601

I am hoping there will be a De-Luxe version in Vinyl

Do not get me wrong, I absolutely love the songs created by Robbie & Guy but he needed to get out from under Guy's shadow & he has done so with this album. I have seen only two reviews where Guy's name has been barely mentioned. Robbie seems extremely proud of this album & so he should be , he continues to show his skills as a really good & interesting song-writer. Not everyone likes him but that's their problem so they should stick to their own lane

Robbie says here how proud he is of this album . Post thanks to Robbie Williams Argentina on X

Edited January 29Jan 29 by Sydney11

Somehow I have always thought that Robbie would do an appearance at the BRITS. I cannot see this now with Harry Styles being invited.

Still think that there will be any mentioning of Robbie at some point at the BRITs.

Another fantastic review.

And I'm not talking about any marks or how this man liked this album but I'm talking about the style of writing the review. From time to time I write texts about music, reviews but I would never write something like this.

And yes, special thanks for 100% Beau, my fave song of the album (by now).

---

BRITPOP - Robbie Williams- a review

Sean Bw Parker

Jan 31, 2026

Noel Gallagher once called Robbie Williams ‘the fat dancer in Take That’, around the time Williams was extricating himself from his boyband past, determined to rock out. Then Angels and debut solo album Life Thru A Lens came along, and stole a by-then past-it Oasis’ Northern Ballad Anthem crown. That doesn’t stop Robbie channelling Liam Gallagher on BRITPOP’s All My Life, while scrutinising - or rather taking the piss out of - mental health jargon: ‘Go ahead, let’s have an intervention...maybe I’ve been crazy all my life’ he rasps.

Since RW has been ‘a thing’, around the turn of the millennium, a familiar pub table round has been the females of the group loving his cheeky chappy ways, either wanting to take care of him or shag him. Meanwhile, the (heterosexual) male part of the gathering generally consider him to be a bit of a tosser. Jealousy? Maybe, but also a distrust of someone permanently presenting art-as-pisstake, and revelling in it as our hero so does.

As long as you’re not expecting Dostoevsky, the lyrics are by turns very profound and a hoot, as seems to be the ADHD-tinged mind of their creator, ‘I keep reading my lyrics, they keep making me paranoid’ he sings on You, shortly after the creator of the original Paranoid riff, Black Sabbath’s Tony Iommi, kicked off the album on Rocket.

Sometimes Robbie goes brilliantly punk, as on Comments Section and Bite Your Tongue, both circling around ‘free speech/censorship issues’, but he constantly lets the listener off in the chorus, going to the anthemic and predictable. It would be great to hear him pummel our synapses from beginning to end one day, because he does it very well.

Speaking of Bite Your Tongue, it echoes fellow enormo-star Taylor Swift’s CANCELLED!, whose parent album shunted the release of BRITPOP to now, so as to maximise profits for his record company, i.e. not get ignored. This subtle willingness of big artistes to grasp the nettle of ‘forces’ telling them to mind their p’s and q’s is refreshing, not to mention important. The kids are paying attention (Robbie no doubt hopes).

Old mucker Gary Barlow pops up as co-writer of Morrissey, wherein fellow northerners cite the guilty pleasures of The Smiths frontman’s utterly based ways, but who came up with his being ‘lost and lonely, hurt and abused’? Robbie or Gary? ‘I’m a little like you but a lot less worthy’ sounds more like it. Ah, these charming men.

Desire with Laura Pausini, official FIFA anthem, almost lets the entire album down with its lazy, pointless, Coldplay-channelling ‘whoah-ohs’, almost as if it’s a required contractual requirement as a tie-in by the totally post-corruption football organisation and RW’s record company. Almost. Human, featuring Jesse and Joy, gets us back on sweet ‘n simple humanitarian Aquarian ground, and is Robbie at his most unaffected.

But it’s Selfish Disco which the albums peerless high point to these ears, uniting the loner dweebs with the party girls under the Umbrella of Robbie, incredibly catchy, but also fun and honest. Best thing he’s ever done? Lazy Days and Rock DJ are banging millennial pop songs, but at 50 Robbie has pulled one out of the hat with this one too. Parallels to Lily Allen about, the West End Girl to Robbie’s Oldham Rock ‘n Roll Survivor, witty, semi-serious, still awash in now highly suspect celebrity stardust.

Overall though, despite its postmodern mix n’ match pretensions, BRITPOP is also a love letter to wife of 16 years Ayda Field, as all his witty cultural psycho-spiritual insights are balanced with an acknowledgement that there is no counselling that can compare to the wit and warmth of a genuine loved one. And the album? As he says on 100% Beau - ‘Let’s not mess with the magic’.

BRITPOP - Robbie Williams- a rev...

BRITPOP - Robbie Williams- a review

Noel Gallagher once called Robbie Williams ‘the fat dancer in Take That’, around the time Williams was extricating himself from his boyband past, determined to rock out.

Album Review: Robbie Williams – BRITPOP

John Wohlmacher·February 2, 2026

Album ReviewsReviews

[Thrill Jockey; 2026]

I don’t think there is any pop-star after the mid-90s who’s had as much a grip over the international charts as Robbie Williams did during his heyday. In the six year period from 1997’s Life Thru A Lens all the way to the release of 2002’s Escapology, Williams managed a significant number of top hits and blockbuster albums, crossing over any preconceived notions of focus groups and audience bubbles. Yes, there’s other large pop stars, obviously – but they either burned out quickly, pivoted away from the singles market or followed a cataclysmic up-and-down trajectory. Williams changed the game multiple times – he somehow made lounge-pop cool, did Brit-pop as the genre was transforming into avant-garde experimentation and somehow not only gave swing a sudden resurgence, but also saw every other pop-act try to replicate his novelty album Swing When You’re Winning. It’s easy to see why Williams was so successful: he combined the sardonic irony of Morrissey with the on-stage machismo of Mick Jagger – contradictions that crafted a self-deprecating, boyish mate. A guy who could play the pint-pounding bare-knuckle fighter, but would apologetically bemoan his micro-penis in the “Rock DJ” music video.

But behind all the irony was something more fragile. Williams was one of the most open pop stars our generation might have seen, openly laying out his self-hatred and insecurities. Often flirting with homosexual entendre, Williams portrayed himself as the self-doubting crypto-bisexual who, in his own words, was 49% gay. But then, also, wasn’t, but wanted to be. It might sound mighty confusing to people in the current age of sexual liberation, but it makes sense when you see Williams as somebody who has fought with industry regulation, going as far as the terminating pregnancy of his former girlfriend, All Saints’ Nicole Appleton, his sinister experiences with drugs and constant press inquiries.

After his exit from Take That, Williams was marketed as a once-in-a-lifetime pop star, a male Madonna. But in reality, he alternatingly wanted to be Neil Hannon of The Divine Comedy – a suave, cultivated crooner – and a third Gallagher, delivering uplifting Beatle-esque anthems. His closest confidant, songwriter Guy Chambers, delivered this cross with him, crafting tracks that nodded or lifted from “I Will Survive”, “You Only Live Twice”, “Relax”. It worked, until it didn’t: at Williams’ peak, the Jonas Åkerlund directed video of “Come Undone” proved to be both climactic and prophetic.

Much has been made of what followed. A split with Chambers led Williams to join with former Duran Duran member Stephen Duffy. The resulting album Intensive Care was politely written off. The club-centric follow-up Rudebox hit just one year later and failed spectacularly. It’s one of the oddest cocaine-vibe albums ever to be released, which makes it at least fascinating, but it’s easily explained as attempting to connect with the Gorillaz sound that Damon Albarn nailed.

Since then, Williams has swung in-and-out of artistic lucidity. Fatherhood, new album, drugs, comeback attempt, obscurity, reconnection with Chambers, back and forth. Neither Reality Killed the Video Star nor Take The Crown reconnected with his former success. A second swing album came and went.

In the 10 years between now and his prior studio album, The Heavy Entertainment Show, he only released a Christmas-album and a re-recording project, XXV. But there was one notable moment for Williams: the release of the monkey-led biopic Better Man, an unvarnished and brutal portrait of the artist’s life, cleverly employing a chaotic CGI chimp where an actor could have felt generic: Williams is larger than life. During the making of the film, Williams swung in and out of studios all across the globe, experimented with different writers and producers. The result is Britpop.

Of course it’s called Britpop, come on now! As stated above, Williams always wanted to be part of that clique, and it’s been speculated that Hannon wasn’t only a fixture for Williams, but that he potentially ghost-wrote for him (“She’s The One” almost seems too close to Hannon’s writing, and he guested on “No Regrets”). To be fair, Williams could front Oasis, but Liam Gallagher could never be Robbie Williams.

But surprisingly, Britpop isn’t very Britpop: it’s the heaviest, loudest, least subtle Williams outing. That is immediately evident with the Tony Iommi guesting opening rocker “Rocket”, which doesn’t even make it to three minutes and burns the barn. “Spies” goes for arena rock, a less sinister “Come Undone” that wants to swing for the fences. “Pretty Face” has a hint of Elastica to it, but ends up more mid-period Oasis, while “Bite Your Tongue” features more than a hint of Blur’s The Great Escape whimsy and “Cocky” has a bit of Liam’s swagger ca. “Lyla”.

The album is already at the halfway point and one thing becomes apparent: the tracks are all quite mono-syllabic rockers, most barely make it to last three minutes. They feature the whimsical post-60s frivolities britpop is so well known for and come with a certain punk edge. But they also lack the tragic tone that made so many Williams songs into immediate classics. The loud guitars and pounding drums celebrate a return, but erase all sensitivity. There’s also few memorable hooks here, and not many bridges that lift a potentially generic verse through clever contrast. It’s all a little Kasabian.

The heavy ballad “All My Life” is the most apparent Oasis nod, with the somewhat Lennon-esque refrain and Williams’ vocals very close to Liam’s vocal tone, including “My oh maaaaa-iiiiiih”. After this, Williams takes the foot off the gas pedal: “Human” is a pretty synth-led ballad with a great vocal melody, a (very faint) hint of Kraftwerk and a memorable singalong refrain. It’s the first real standout track of the album and could well stand among Williams’ classics.

The somewhat satirical “Morrissey”, not so much. Led by a throbbing post-Moroder electronic beat that could fit both on a Charli XCX or Antonoff-helmed Swift track, it’s a bit too evident in attempting to connect with the zeitgeist. What’s funny is that Williams uses Morrissey’s failings – his constant self-victimisation and petty grumpiness – to reflect on his own struggles with self-loathing. The main issue with the lyrics, however, comes with the realisation that Williams paints a very rudimentary image of his subject, writing about the idea of Morrissey more so than the man. Surely that will lead to even more self-pittying of the mancunian, but well…

Following, Williams returns to the Britpop pastiche: “You” is a direct reference to Elastica’s “Connection” – which, famously, they took from Wire. The refrain turns to post-Butler-era Suede, which makes for a continually weird collage. These post-modern songs all came 30 years ago, but to Williams, they must seem very modern. It’s quite speculative and won’t really come together, even if the spirit is appreciated. “It’s OK Until The Drugs Stop Working” leans towards the ironic orchestral pop Pulp perfected and is a really strong track, but at three minutes 16 seconds a little too short where it could have benefitted from a grand finale or spoken word section that just spirals on and on to ecstasy. And then the closer already comes: “Pocket Rocket” is a cute, string led reworking of the opening track – arguably a better fit for the composition. At just 38 minutes, Britpop is over.

It’s understandable that this album took a while. Williams was likely busy overseeing the creation of his biopic, traveled a lot, sought inspiration with different producers and musicians. The songs often seem to provide a fertile ground for Williams to showcase the very persona he possibly wished to have embodied during his heyday: a cool art-school kid that was self-determined and well read, a person celebrated for his human failings by the NME, rather than somebody constantly chastised for his struggles by The Mirror. When rockstars throw a tantrum on stage or fists during recording sessions, it’s f***ing cool, after all.

But as spunky and charming as Britpop presents itself, it continues to prove that Williams struggles with an identity crisis. Look: there’s not a single track on here as queer as “Girls & Boys”, which Blur whipped into a lurid five minute dancefloor banger. One of Britpop’s unsung qualities is how cleverly it played with gender – yes, even the hyper-masculine machismo of the Gallaghers is ultimately a performance. Britpop is now often associated with a conservative nostalgia, in contrast to the futuristic sounds of shoegaze, trip hop and the myriad of Warp acts of the 90s. But that totally evades the fact that Britpop was often unflinchingly critical of British society. It was as arty as it had teeth.

Britpop, the album, evades this edge in favour of introspection. Williams reflects on his life and himself, but rarely takes a step away to fully elaborate on the the UK and its politics. “Bite Your Tongue” is a rare moment of political writing, but its musical execution is too unwieldy in its mid 90s tone – an experiment with a style that climaxed 30 years ago. But all this doesn’t mean that Williams first real record in a decade is by any means bad. Because it isn’t.

But then it also isn’t so many other things: it isn’t very memorable, it isn’t very emotionally resonant. It feels like a short, quick project that Williams could have done in 1999, at the tail-end of Britpop, the same year that Blur released their genre-shattering classic 13. It’s clear that Williams had fun here, that he was able to embrace some of his contemporaries and heroes. But it never feels like a classic record, a necessary record, a weighty record.

At his best, Williams opened himself up to a deep sadness that would fracture across even his brightest hits and provide the same euphoric melancholy that the Pet Shop Boys, Paul McCartney and Brian Wilson master so effortlessly: “Road to Mandalay”, “Come Undone”, “No Regrets”, “Angels”, “Strong”. Britpop isn’t touching that perfection, but it provides a strong shield for Williams to rebuild what looked like an ailing career. It’s, possibly, a blueprint from which he can re-assess his identity by looking at the past he wishes he had had. That’s a fairly worthwhile endeavour, even if it can’t touch his classics.

Source Album Review: Robbie Williams – BRITPOP – Beats Per Minute

2 hours ago, Sydney11 said:

Album Review: Robbie Williams – BRITPOP

John Wohlmacher·February 2, 2026

Album ReviewsReviews

[Thrill Jockey; 2026]

I don’t think there is any pop-star after the mid-90s who’s had as much a grip over the international charts as Robbie Williams did during his heyday. In the six year period from 1997’s Life Thru A Lens all the way to the release of 2002’s Escapology, Williams managed a significant number of top hits and blockbuster albums, crossing over any preconceived notions of focus groups and audience bubbles. Yes, there’s other large pop stars, obviously – but they either burned out quickly, pivoted away from the singles market or followed a cataclysmic up-and-down trajectory. Williams changed the game multiple times – he somehow made lounge-pop cool, did Brit-pop as the genre was transforming into avant-garde experimentation and somehow not only gave swing a sudden resurgence, but also saw every other pop-act try to replicate his novelty album Swing When You’re Winning. It’s easy to see why Williams was so successful: he combined the sardonic irony of Morrissey with the on-stage machismo of Mick Jagger – contradictions that crafted a self-deprecating, boyish mate. A guy who could play the pint-pounding bare-knuckle fighter, but would apologetically bemoan his micro-penis in the “Rock DJ” music video.

But behind all the irony was something more fragile. Williams was one of the most open pop stars our generation might have seen, openly laying out his self-hatred and insecurities. Often flirting with homosexual entendre, Williams portrayed himself as the self-doubting crypto-bisexual who, in his own words, was 49% gay. But then, also, wasn’t, but wanted to be. It might sound mighty confusing to people in the current age of sexual liberation, but it makes sense when you see Williams as somebody who has fought with industry regulation, going as far as the terminating pregnancy of his former girlfriend, All Saints’ Nicole Appleton, his sinister experiences with drugs and constant press inquiries.

After his exit from Take That, Williams was marketed as a once-in-a-lifetime pop star, a male Madonna. But in reality, he alternatingly wanted to be Neil Hannon of The Divine Comedy – a suave, cultivated crooner – and a third Gallagher, delivering uplifting Beatle-esque anthems. His closest confidant, songwriter Guy Chambers, delivered this cross with him, crafting tracks that nodded or lifted from “I Will Survive”, “You Only Live Twice”, “Relax”. It worked, until it didn’t: at Williams’ peak, the Jonas Åkerlund directed video of “Come Undone” proved to be both climactic and prophetic.

Much has been made of what followed. A split with Chambers led Williams to join with former Duran Duran member Stephen Duffy. The resulting album Intensive Care was politely written off. The club-centric follow-up Rudebox hit just one year later and failed spectacularly. It’s one of the oddest cocaine-vibe albums ever to be released, which makes it at least fascinating, but it’s easily explained as attempting to connect with the Gorillaz sound that Damon Albarn nailed.

Since then, Williams has swung in-and-out of artistic lucidity. Fatherhood, new album, drugs, comeback attempt, obscurity, reconnection with Chambers, back and forth. Neither Reality Killed the Video Star nor Take The Crown reconnected with his former success. A second swing album came and went.

In the 10 years between now and his prior studio album, The Heavy Entertainment Show, he only released a Christmas-album and a re-recording project, XXV. But there was one notable moment for Williams: the release of the monkey-led biopic Better Man, an unvarnished and brutal portrait of the artist’s life, cleverly employing a chaotic CGI chimp where an actor could have felt generic: Williams is larger than life. During the making of the film, Williams swung in and out of studios all across the globe, experimented with different writers and producers. The result is Britpop.

Of course it’s called Britpop, come on now! As stated above, Williams always wanted to be part of that clique, and it’s been speculated that Hannon wasn’t only a fixture for Williams, but that he potentially ghost-wrote for him (“She’s The One” almost seems too close to Hannon’s writing, and he guested on “No Regrets”). To be fair, Williams could front Oasis, but Liam Gallagher could never be Robbie Williams.

But surprisingly, Britpop isn’t very Britpop: it’s the heaviest, loudest, least subtle Williams outing. That is immediately evident with the Tony Iommi guesting opening rocker “Rocket”, which doesn’t even make it to three minutes and burns the barn. “Spies” goes for arena rock, a less sinister “Come Undone” that wants to swing for the fences. “Pretty Face” has a hint of Elastica to it, but ends up more mid-period Oasis, while “Bite Your Tongue” features more than a hint of Blur’s The Great Escape whimsy and “Cocky” has a bit of Liam’s swagger ca. “Lyla”.

The album is already at the halfway point and one thing becomes apparent: the tracks are all quite mono-syllabic rockers, most barely make it to last three minutes. They feature the whimsical post-60s frivolities britpop is so well known for and come with a certain punk edge. But they also lack the tragic tone that made so many Williams songs into immediate classics. The loud guitars and pounding drums celebrate a return, but erase all sensitivity. There’s also few memorable hooks here, and not many bridges that lift a potentially generic verse through clever contrast. It’s all a little Kasabian.

The heavy ballad “All My Life” is the most apparent Oasis nod, with the somewhat Lennon-esque refrain and Williams’ vocals very close to Liam’s vocal tone, including “My oh maaaaa-iiiiiih”. After this, Williams takes the foot off the gas pedal: “Human” is a pretty synth-led ballad with a great vocal melody, a (very faint) hint of Kraftwerk and a memorable singalong refrain. It’s the first real standout track of the album and could well stand among Williams’ classics.

The somewhat satirical “Morrissey”, not so much. Led by a throbbing post-Moroder electronic beat that could fit both on a Charli XCX or Antonoff-helmed Swift track, it’s a bit too evident in attempting to connect with the zeitgeist. What’s funny is that Williams uses Morrissey’s failings – his constant self-victimisation and petty grumpiness – to reflect on his own struggles with self-loathing. The main issue with the lyrics, however, comes with the realisation that Williams paints a very rudimentary image of his subject, writing about the idea of Morrissey more so than the man. Surely that will lead to even more self-pittying of the mancunian, but well…

Following, Williams returns to the Britpop pastiche: “You” is a direct reference to Elastica’s “Connection” – which, famously, they took from Wire. The refrain turns to post-Butler-era Suede, which makes for a continually weird collage. These post-modern songs all came 30 years ago, but to Williams, they must seem very modern. It’s quite speculative and won’t really come together, even if the spirit is appreciated. “It’s OK Until The Drugs Stop Working” leans towards the ironic orchestral pop Pulp perfected and is a really strong track, but at three minutes 16 seconds a little too short where it could have benefitted from a grand finale or spoken word section that just spirals on and on to ecstasy. And then the closer already comes: “Pocket Rocket” is a cute, string led reworking of the opening track – arguably a better fit for the composition. At just 38 minutes, Britpop is over.

It’s understandable that this album took a while. Williams was likely busy overseeing the creation of his biopic, traveled a lot, sought inspiration with different producers and musicians. The songs often seem to provide a fertile ground for Williams to showcase the very persona he possibly wished to have embodied during his heyday: a cool art-school kid that was self-determined and well read, a person celebrated for his human failings by the NME, rather than somebody constantly chastised for his struggles by The Mirror. When rockstars throw a tantrum on stage or fists during recording sessions, it’s f***ing cool, after all.

But as spunky and charming as Britpop presents itself, it continues to prove that Williams struggles with an identity crisis. Look: there’s not a single track on here as queer as “Girls & Boys”, which Blur whipped into a lurid five minute dancefloor banger. One of Britpop’s unsung qualities is how cleverly it played with gender – yes, even the hyper-masculine machismo of the Gallaghers is ultimately a performance. Britpop is now often associated with a conservative nostalgia, in contrast to the futuristic sounds of shoegaze, trip hop and the myriad of Warp acts of the 90s. But that totally evades the fact that Britpop was often unflinchingly critical of British society. It was as arty as it had teeth.

Britpop, the album, evades this edge in favour of introspection. Williams reflects on his life and himself, but rarely takes a step away to fully elaborate on the the UK and its politics. “Bite Your Tongue” is a rare moment of political writing, but its musical execution is too unwieldy in its mid 90s tone – an experiment with a style that climaxed 30 years ago. But all this doesn’t mean that Williams first real record in a decade is by any means bad. Because it isn’t.

But then it also isn’t so many other things: it isn’t very memorable, it isn’t very emotionally resonant. It feels like a short, quick project that Williams could have done in 1999, at the tail-end of Britpop, the same year that Blur released their genre-shattering classic 13. It’s clear that Williams had fun here, that he was able to embrace some of his contemporaries and heroes. But it never feels like a classic record, a necessary record, a weighty record.

At his best, Williams opened himself up to a deep sadness that would fracture across even his brightest hits and provide the same euphoric melancholy that the Pet Shop Boys, Paul McCartney and Brian Wilson master so effortlessly: “Road to Mandalay”, “Come Undone”, “No Regrets”, “Angels”, “Strong”. Britpop isn’t touching that perfection, but it provides a strong shield for Williams to rebuild what looked like an ailing career. It’s, possibly, a blueprint from which he can re-assess his identity by looking at the past he wishes he had had. That’s a fairly worthwhile endeavour, even if it can’t touch his classics.

Source Album Review: Robbie Williams – BRITPOP – Beats Per Minute

What an idiot.

Doesn’t even know that She’s The One is a cover.

1 hour ago, Kathryn24601 said:

What an idiot.

Doesn’t even know that She’s The One is a cover.

That's what I thought

I messaged him on Instagram to point out that it was borderline defamation as well as obviously wrong and it looks like he has now quietly edited it.

Without responding to thank me, obviously. 🙄

But in overall, it was a still good review anyway.

But thank you for educate this person a little bit :)

Listening the album now.

I agree with somebody who told that all songs on it have a good an remarkable chorus. That's true.

14 hours ago, Kathryn24601 said:

I messaged him on Instagram to point out that it was borderline defamation as well as obviously wrong and it looks like he has now quietly edited it.

Without responding to thank me, obviously. 🙄

Where does he get this from. Intensive Care was one of Robbie's more successful albums

A split with Chambers led Williams to join with former Duran Duran member Stephen Duffy. The resulting album Intensive Care was politely written off. Written off by who It topped the charts in over 20 countries . Where did this guy get his info from !!

Well, seems I read this article not so attentively :)))

8 hours ago, Sydney11 said:

Where does he get this from. Intensive Care was one of Robbie's more successful albums

A split with Chambers led Williams to join with former Duran Duran member Stephen Duffy. The resulting album Intensive Care was politely written off. Written off by who It topped the charts in over 20 countries . Where did this guy get his info from !!

Yes, and was his most successful album in Latin America.

I wonder if the article had been drafted by ChatGPT. The Neil Hannon thing has the flavour of an AI hallucination.

Didn't Intensive Care sell 7.5m copies? 😅

as far as I know Intensive Care was his best selling album, even better selling than Escapology. I often wonder what kind of fact check the writers of these articles do

2 hours ago, elisabeth1974 said:

as far as I know Intensive Care was his best selling album, even better selling than Escapology. I often wonder what kind of fact check the writers of these articles do

It’s very hard to be sure as accurate global sales figures are hard to come by.

Chartmasters has Intensive Care at 6.5 million and Escapology at 7.9 million, but appear not to count a million albums sold in Mexico by being preloaded on to a device (either a phone or an mp3), and I think must either be missing or not counting some other ROW sales as well.

They also have Greatest Hits at 8.7 million as his best selling.

I know Stephen Duffy says that Intensive Care is his best selling album outside the U.K., though.

In any case, it was more than successful enough to make ‘politely written off’ risible, even though it did not do as well in the U.K. as Escapology did.