You'd be forgiven for having to do a double take when giving Common's 'Universal Mind Control' an initial spin. The 'black kojak' has left his conscious microphone by the wayside — and his wits — and plunged headlong into a mainstream of synth riffs and some of the most cringeworthy verses to ever leave the ordinarily eloquent Chicago native's mouth.

So in come producers the Neptunes, Kanye West, Pharell and the commercial cavalry, and the man who considers himself more poet than party MC becomes the philosopher who wants to 'philosopher on top of yer'. The hip-hop — H.E.R. he used to love — is now nothing more than a bitch to him.

And his excuse for this clubbers claptrap? Apparently, a pop album was the one thing missing from his body of work. Read: "I need to make more cash to gold plate my Hummer and how about some more teen groupies ala R Kelly, while we're at it?"

Now one can fully appreciate the predicament of a man who is romantically involved with Serena Williams. But did Peter Tosh ever need to serve up pop nosh? Does Timo Maas feel the urge to dabble in bluegrass? Did Celine Dion ever rock out to 'Whole Lotta Love'? Erm, OK apart from that last one, successful artists very rarely mess with the formula or are so obviously swayed by the attentions of their stablemates.

Listening to Common attempt to get down and dirty on the sleaze-infected 'Suga and Sex' is like stepping in on your parents doing the horizontal monkey dance on the living room carpet — and only slightly less embarrassing. That the ruminating 'Changes' is far and away the standout track on the album is ample evidence of what Common's true element is. 'Gladiator', a traditional battle rap hymn which borrows its refrain from the Russell Crowe epic, is the only other cut that bears mentioning. Smut and social conscience are not easy bedfellows.

Yes, this is a common album. In more ways than one, unfortunately.