CONSIDERING that when they were first unveiled, Gorillaz were derided in some quarters as an ego-trip for former Blur frontman Damon Albarn, their credibility has since shown a sharp upturn.

Much of this was due to the variety and bite of their last album, 2005’s Demon Days, which saw them concentrate on the music rather than the style and earn the right to be taken seriously, instead of simply being viewed as an irritating side-project jape with added cartoon characters. The question now is: how do they follow it up?

With Plastic Beach, Gorillaz have chosen to collaborate with seemingly everybody who might carry a semblance of credibility. Lou Reed, Mark E Smith, The Clash’s Mick Jones and Paul Simonon, Mos Def and De La Soul are just some of those to be signed up across 16 tracks covering everything from cop-show funk to futuristic pop.

Yet for all the invention – some of it successful, some of it less so – it’s when they stick to the more tried-and-trusted songwriting approach that the album impresses.

Albarn’s ear for a tune manifests itself on the twinkling On Melancholy Hill, while the sub-zero, threatening Glitter Freeze is a slice of darkness which proves Gorillaz don’t have to subscribe to wacky crowd-pleasing.

As sonically excellent as it is, however, Plastic Beach seems stretched too far, with too much filler and an insufficient quota of tracks which, for all the lyrical nous, fail to grab the scruff of the neck. If this is to be Gorillaz’ final offering, as they’ve suggested, it’s not the cast-iron triumph they would have hoped for.