Album review: Michael Bublé, Nobody But Me

Michael Bublé has a cheerfully straightforward relationship with his audience. Every few years, he will release a glossy and upbeat collection of pre rock ’n roll standards, spliced with the occasional (and generally forgettable) original composition. Fans will adore every cheesy, charming note — aside from the non-covers which they generally just tolerate — and Bublé’s status as the pre-eminent crooner of the age will be reaffirmed.

With 30 million records sold, he clearly knows what he is about. Certainly his audience will find much to tickle their fancy on Nobody but Me, the first album Bublé has produced by himself. The arrangements are slick and soaring and the jazz- pop formula gives the music a timeless lustre. It’s his ninth LP but could easily be his first.

That isn’t to say that Bublé doesn’t occasionally tinker with the blueprint. He delivers a (mercifully brief) rap on ‘Someday’ — a twitchy ballad written by Meghan Trainor and One Direction’s Harry Stiles (yes Harry Stiles is now penning crossover rap anthems for Michael Bublé). Meanwhile a cover of the Beach Boys’ ‘God Only Knows’ re-imagines the Sixties classic as a stripped down piano dirge, the tune’s ineffable sadness rising to the surface, and the title track offers a cameo by Black Thought of hip-hop group The Roots.

Yet that’s as radical as it gets on a collection impressively comfortable in its skin. There are respectful tilts at Dean Martin’s ‘On an Evening in Roma’ and the Matt Monroe hit ‘My Kind Of Girl’. The spirit of Sinatra is elsewhere conjured on ‘The Very Thought Of You’, the Ray Noble standard made famous by Sinatra in 1962. Through it all, Bublé is reliably charismatic, his vocals exuding a familiar honeyed warmth. Nobody but Me is dinner party music — glossy and ultimately insubstantial — but carried off with real verve and enthusiasm. The king of easy listening continues to reign unchallenged.