It's almost enough just to know that Roots Manuva is back making records. In these dark, gloomy times, things just seem a bit sunnier with Rodney Smith around. He is, after all, one of the best pop stars we have: relentlessly witty, self deprecating, contrary and fun. It's just that, for a myriad of reasons (most of which are down to Rodney himself), the outside world at large don't ever seem to have truly cottoned on.

Judging by the poptastic first half of the album, Smith himself seems only too keen to inform them. 'Again & Again' is a potential dancehall/floor classic, with brass stabs propelling the verses, and a chorus that wouldn't sound out of place on a Shaggy record. Though, admittedly, he'd probably prefer Burning Spear as a reference point. Lead single Buff Nuff takes the pop ragga direction even further; indeed as a knowing but loving parody, it's almost tempting to compare it to Flight of the Conchords' 'Boom' ahead of Beenie Man. Still, it's great, modern pop music. When allied to the electro funk meets 80s computer game soundtrack of 'Let the Spirit', or the slinky 'Kick up your Foot', it appears that Roots Manuva may just have cracked this commercial pop music lark.

But then a strange thing happens. The first half of Slime and Reason is pop music as pure escapism, a way of forgetting all the troubles of the outside world via the medium of bass lines and involuntary body movement. But it seems like Smith himself is unable to switch himself off for the duration of an album, leading to an altogether deeper, more melancholy though equally addictive second half. 'It's Me Oh Lord' is heavier, slower and altogether more menacing than what has preceded it. It also contains the purest verse on the album, and serves as a reminder of just what a brilliant rapper Roots Manuva is. In fact, if the first half of Slime and Reason is all about the listener, the second half is all about Smith; we are merely observers as he lays his soul bare and reminds the world of his innate talents.

Sometimes, it's uncomfortable listening. The epic confessional of 'The Show Must Go On' sees Smith admitting to his failures as both a parent and a man, believing that he has become 'a long streak of piss, a drunken bum.' Somehow, the fact that it's set over a playful analogue squelch makes it all the more disconcerting.

'Well Alright' meanwhile begins as nothing less than Roots Manuva does Bond theme, before settling into a piano groove over which Smith seems to be intending to satirise whingeing, poverty stricken musicians, while doing nothing to dispel the suspicion that he himself feels that he should have got more from his career.

Slime and Reason, therefore is an album that, even by Roots Manuva standards, is confused and confusing. Half of it is the most glorious, brainless pop of his career, while the other half seems almost embarrassed of the first tracks' lack of depth. You feel that somewhere, Roots Manuva has it in him to make either a commercially dynamite pop album or a confessional masterpiece, but his sheer indecisiveness will always see him caught between the two stools. But while he's making LPs as varied, bonkers and addictive as this, maybe that's what marks him out as a truly great star. Long may he remain Britain's 'Next Big Thing.'