THAT Jimmy Blunt has got one hell of day of reckoning ahead of him, for in the wake of his blander-than-tofu warbling there's a whole army of woolly-hatted young chaps clutching guitars and plying greetings card emotions. Here's one now. He goes by the name of Daniel Powter and his first album drips with the kind of songs that James Blunt (is that rhyming slang?) fans will relish.

Beautifully produced by A-list knob twiddler and all-round muso Mitchell Froom, the album builds on the radio-friendly gloss of hit 45 Bad Day and its follow up, Jimmy Gets High. Powter's vocals blend bits of Green Gartside, Simon Le Bon and the young Michael Jackson; his music veers from adult-oriented boy band pop to the more difficult tunes which would love to be Suzanne Vega songs or even Nebraska-era Springsteen.

But it all sounds so painfully self-conscious. It's music made at a marketing meeting, laden with off-the-peg feelings and key changes. Smooth, sanitised, gritless and ball-less.

In an age in which Coldplay are considered deep and meaningful, it'll probably sell by the wagon-load.