A soul record lacking in soul or a funk record lacking funk, this album could be characterised as either or both. It’s not inherently terrible, having been put together with skill and some inventiveness, but the overall effect left me crying out for some personality. ‘Killing Angelina’ is a pleasing enough sub-Outkast ditty but for the most part the record sounds like it has been produced to order by a robot specialising in made-to-measure beats. The contemporary funk and soul scenes can be labyrinthine in their depths but somewhere beneath the surface I’d wager there are many artists more deserving of a record deal than Twisted Tongue.