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In August last year, UK rapper Kano collaborated with David on the single This is the Girl, which debuted in the top 20 on the UK charts. “On the canopy/My stamina be enough for Angelina Jolie/Actually I had to become a man/ to be the man you see/And I know your fantasy,” goes David, to the tune of Busta Rhymes-style, machine-gun-meets-Reggaeton rap. Chicks, get ready then, is the message and the premise of Trust Me, even though this first single now features as the track that closes out the album.
David’s beefed-up image befits all the wooing and mercury rising antics he repeatedly sings about. The lanky frame of the goateed 19-year-old, who shot to fame as the vocalist on Artful Dodger’s Rewind has all but vanished, replaced by a coat-and-sunglass, coarse stubble look. The vibe of David’s ‘comeback’ (if indeed a two-year hiatus should be called that) is apparent, but drained of all emotion, except lust.
Hot Stuff (Let’s Dance) encourages the women with curves to shed their inhibitions. David’s alternately effeminate and lilting voice carries the tune, a sure shot crowd pleaser with its pop R&B beats; an ear-catching interpretation of David Bowie’s Let’s Dance. 6 Of 1 Thing unusually reminds you of the artist’s most successful hit, Fill Me In-clubby beats replaced by an orchestral fill-in (organs and trumpets)-which effectively juggled pace and tempo. Friday Night signals a shift in the pulse of the album, slower rhythms, more soul and more awful song writing.
Featuring the vocal talents of Rita Ora, a 17-year-old discovered by the album’s producer Martin Terefe, Awkward is churned straight out of the slow-pop factory floor. Just a Reminder is evocative and tender in the most pseudo way, though the old school organ work on the track elevates it several notches, and it’s worth returning to just for that. Officially Yours and Kinda Girl for Me (was that a sitar strain in there?) continue along the same trajectory right until Top of the Hill, which ironically is the pinnacle of lazy writing-”There was a boy, he lived in a big white house/And he was quite happy there/he knew the dig and the cats and his brother.” Right. Contemporary pop music at its nastiest, exploitative best. Trust me.
Craig David, Trust Me


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