Longtime Morcheeba fans that found their sunshine bright album The Antidote a complete disappointment couldn't ask for a better follow-up than Dive Deep. Making that other unloved effort seem like a mislabeled side project, Dive Deep finds multi-instrumentalists the Godfrey brothers returning to the murky, moody kind of downtempo and trip-hop of their early days, just without original vocalist Skye Edwards, or for that matter, Antidote's vocalist Daisy Martey. Instead, they go about it Zero 7 style, utilizing a series of guest vocalists including smooth rapper Cool Calm Pete, alternative singer/songwriter Thomas Dybdahl, and most surprisingly, pop/rock veteran Judie Tzuke, who brings a welcome, folk-tinged sound that serves to connect the dots here between soft rock and Portishead. Tzuke's "Enjoy the Ride" and "Blue Chair" are the mellow highlights to curl up with, while Dybdahl's trilogy of songs – "Riverbed," "Sleep on It Tonight," and "Washed Away" – finds his poetic musings on all things melancholy perfectly packaged in Morcheeba's lazy sway.

The set that made Cray a pop star, despite its enduring blues base. Cray's smoldering stance on "Smoking Gun" and "Right Next Door" rendered him the first sex symbol to emerge from the blues field in decades, but it was his innovative expansion of the genre itself that makes this album a genuine 1980s classic. "Nothing but a Woman" boasts an irresistible groove pushed by the Memphis Horns and some metaphorically inspired lyrics, while "I Wonder" and "Guess I Showed Her" sizzle with sensuality.

That the opening bars to Cry finds Jim Kerr opining "It's difficult to love you when you do the things you do time and time again" almost implies that the hideously unfashionable Simple Minds are once again anticipating getting stabbed in the buttocks by poison pens and have decided to save their critics the bother by writing the reviews for them. Well, if that's the case, they've done themselves a little bit of an injustice. The good news–and from this world, not the next–is that Jim Kerr has not reneged on his commitment to making an indecently modest pop record, one where any delusional notions of stadium rock empires are held in check and where melody is a stronger currency than reverb and hot air. Although the cleaner-than-a-kitchen-showroom production is out of step with the contemporary, scuffed-up sounds of "now"–Simple Minds remain hamstrung by their own outmoded brand of professionalism–Cry has more than enough decent tunes to entice persons beyond the well-creased folds of their fan base.