The musical history of Katie Melua suggests she is not an artist from whom to expect surprises. She kicked off her career back in 2003 with Call off the Search, and has since often been bracketed with the likes of Norah Jones, KT Tunstall and Dido. You know the sort of thing. Music to have a bath to, essentially. Heck, why not chuck in some bubbles and candles. Hello, James Blunt, you're in this category too.
Terry Wogan is often credited with the launch of Melua's career, having repeatedly played The Closest Thing To Crazy to BBC Radio 2 listeners when he first discovered it. The closest thing to crazy, Terry, was possibly being played the harp-heavy, somnolent single over and over again until ears bled. But it didn't seem to matter; the album sold more than a million copies in its first five months of release in the UK and subsequently went double-platinum in various countries across the globe.
Since then there have been two further studio albums, Piece by Piece and Pictures, which did well enough without matching the musical heights of their predecessor. Her latest effort, however, entitled The House, marks something of a departure for Melua. Gone is the obvious influence of Mike Batt (the old-fashioned popster, the writer of Bright Eyes and the creator of The Wombles), who has served as the producer on her three previous albums.
In his place has stepped William Orbit, the techno-reliant artist most known for producing Madonna's Ray of Light, and so we are presented with a younger, funkier sound and darker broodings from Melua's whispery voice. The introductory track, I'd Love To Kill You, for example, is one that may well have those stolid Radio 2 listeners leaping out of their armchairs in shock. It's a murder ballad, basically. "I'd love to kill you while you eat," she sings. "The pleasure would taste so sweet, I'd like to open up your skin and wander there within."
The ethereal, airy Orbit touch is clear in several places. Notably, on the title-track, The House, which falls last on the album. Melua's lush vocals rise and dip in a manner reminiscent of Tori Amos, while cymbals clash gently against solo guitar notes and high-pitched strings bring it to a climax. As beautifully orchestrated is The Floor, the album's debut single. The doom-laden track ("When the earth begins to crumble, why do you feel you have to hold on?",) was co-written by Robbie Williams' old collaborator, Guy Chambers. Starting off at a slow, stately pace suited to Melua's fragile whispering, it jumps into a more upbeat, groove track halfway through before dropping back down again into bass-drum mode.
There are a few weak spots. Plague of Love starts off with Melua moaning that her father (here, a doctor) and her mother (funnily enough a nurse) never told her about a particular problem she's suffering - she's been "struck down by the plague of love". It's a Roxy Music-lite, thick person's version of Love Is the Drug. But never mind. That's the Achilles heel to an album that elsewhere is pretty strong. By all means try it out in the bath, but - happily - you might find it works elsewhere too.