Available on: Bigger Picture LP

Kano has always, from his early days MCing on East London pirate radio (and I mean early; there are recordings of him as young as 14) been someone you can get behind. He had the perfect combination of charm and composure, and unlike some of his peers in N.A.S.T.Y Crew, he didn’t need to shout his bars or brag about how big he was, he could just lean back and kill a room with his calm, meticulous flow. And the whole time, he’d do it with that tone of voice and that look in his eye that said ‘I know I’m better than all of you’.

And bar a few obvious exceptions (Dizzee; Wiley), he was, and it’s hard to resent the fact that when he had a chance to sign to a major, collaborate with people like Damon Albarn and Kate Nash and move to Essex, he took it. It meant Kano could live off music, and play to crowds he’d probably never dreamt of playing to before. And the music, all things considered, wasn’t that bad – mostly because unlike say, Roll Deep’s recent number ones or Chipmunk’s ‘Diamond Rings’, it never seemed cynical. You genuinely got the impression that Kano was, in a very middle class, Guardian reader sense, trying to “advance his craft”. Misled, maybe, but I don’t think Kano only went in this direction for the money.

Which, in a way, makes Method to the Maadness even worse. Kano spoke recently about signing to an independent label again; how it meant he had to put more of his own money into the project, but ultimately could do what he wanted with the album. And some of the decisions he takes here are staggeringly bad: ‘MADD’ is a empty ode to “hoodies on the back of the bus”, revolving around an unforgivably bad rock riff and an ‘Another Brick in the Wall’-esque chorus. ‘Spaceship’ and ‘Crazy’, produced by Chase & Status and Boys Noize respectively, are the album’s mandatory dubstep tracks, and roll sluggishly through every cliché in the genre – right down to the former’s “irie” chorus.

What’s strange about Method of the Maadness is that, despite it mostly being awful, if Kano chooses the singles from it well, he could not only be very successful this year, but appeal to various corners of the pop market. ‘Upside’, released last month is no masterpiece, but it’s the sort of jumpy, vintage-clothed pop song that could have easily soundtracked summer for Florence loving festival goers. ‘Get Wild’, produced by Boys Noize, is heavily filtered battle rap with a catchy chorus and a Wiley guest appearance that could go far.

But the real gem here is ‘All + All Together’, produced by and featuring Hot Chip. Musically, it’s very similar to a slowed down of Hard House Banton’s ‘Reign’, with crunching drums and vocal samples gasping for breath. Hot Chip take the chorus, while Kano gives easily his best performance of the album, spilling out memories of his early days in music (“up on the stage at Palace Pavillion / ‘Boys Luv Girls’, I bust my new riddim / We were just friends to the death  / Shared one pound, one pad, one pen”). Is the subject grime, N.A.S.T.Y Crew or simply a time when music was simpler for Kano? Who knows, but it’s easily the album’s most effecting track, and a reminder of how good this LP could be.

But, these are flickering lights in an album that overall, is disjointed, vacuous and empty. On its closer, ‘Dark Days’, Kano bemoans the way that grime had to compromise to become successful (“whole new culture / but it went from art, to the hearts, now it’s broken”), spelling out each syllable as if he’s saying something deeply important, but there’s no gravitas to it – not when it’s immediately followed by a chorus that sounds like an outtake from a Killers album. It’s the final appearance of a problem that crops up throughout Method to the Madness, Kano trying – with his intonation, with the production – to sound desperately like he’s saying something, when there’s really nothing behind his words.

Tom Lea