With albums of exquisite piano music and nose-thumbing pop under his belt, the maverick Canadian jester takes the next logical step: an orchestral hip-hop album. No beats, no samples, just waves of cinematic strings and Gonzales’s sardonic, often hilarious, wordplay. The likes of Rap Race and Different Kind of Prostitute work a treat, as long as you don’t think lines such as “If you don’t like rap then face it/You probably hate this/You’re probably racist” are meant to be taken seriously. Like John Barry meets Eminem meets Family Guy, but in a good way.
(Republic of Music; out Mon)