With their spiritualist-tinged, beach-bum demeanour and love of a delicate chorus, California rockers Incubus always seemed something of an outlier in the nu-metal scene, less likely to Break Stuff than lightly rearrange a few items before retiring for a cup of oolong tea and a nice sit-down. Brandon Boyd and boys’ eighth album continues a progression away from the breakdowns and record-scratches of their early years and towards something closer to stadium-baiting modern rock in the mould of, say, Train. Indeed, there’s even the faint whiff of the Sheeran on a few of the big ballads here. The band fares better when they channel the adolescent enthusiasm of their past: opener No Fun offers up an exuberantly crunchy riff that wouldn’t feel out of place on career highlight Make Yourself, while (horrible title aside) Nimble Bastard is a tidy chunk of driving alt-rock reminiscent of Kerbdog or Rival Schools. More like that and 8 might have been a little less second-rate.
