There are repeated glimpses of what inspired the Timberlake-Duran dream team across the 12-track LP, but none last long enough to justify the other 40-odd minutes. Opening track 'The Valley', which is probably the closest thing to old-school Duran with its haunting keys and classic LeBon warble, is underlined by what is possibly the funkiest slap-bass session this side of Prince. However, as with much of the album, it's followed by a full-on raspberry in the shape of the title track. There's a classic Duran Duran tune hiding somewhere underneath the surface , but it's been smothered by a dreadful selection of clunky drum and bass solos, and the chorus sounds as if it's being performed by a group at gunpoint, being told to "have fun" and "rock out".
Timberlake takes over the show on 'Nite Runner', a song which could have easily come off his FutureSex/LoveSounds record if it didn't have LeBon creeping around in the background like a seedy uncle. Lyrics like: "Can I put my hands on you tonight / Something tells me I'm in for a ride," would probably have had stadiums full of women quivering if it wasn't coming from a band that are closer to collecting their pensions than any hot young supermodels these days. The first single 'Falling Down' is a dreary, soulless honk that's part Enrique Iglesias wet ballad and part Simply Red coffee-table funk. Timbaland takes co-writing credits on 'Skin Divers' and while his regulation thumping beats are a delight alongside John Taylor's guitar whacking, the "wiki wiki" vocal call-out and duetting with LeBon is an uncomfortable experience. It's like watching your coolest best mate being joined on the karaoke by his estate agent dad for a run through 'Build Me Up Buttercup'. You'll wear your pants out because your bum cheeks are so tight.
The inconsistency of the whole record is perhaps the most frustrating thing. It would have been a hell of a lot easier if they hadn't included the likes of 'Dirty Great Monster', which could slip into any Duran album thanks to its sleazy trumpets and brooding, pulsating chorus. Likewise, and worryingly for LeBon, the instrumental 'Tricked Out', shows that the band could be making sizzling electro-romps with dashes of Kraftwerk robotics if he decided to bugger off elsewhere. Meanwhile 'Tempted', perhaps the best exponent of the Timbaland-meets-Duran sound, shows what sort of fun they could be having if they stopped trying so bleedin' hard to sound hip. The lustful dance-beat and slinky Duran rhythm get LeBon's mojo working over-time as he purrs: "Devil's gonna tempt you / Oh yeah / How much do you want to?" like a nympho on a sack-load of Viagra.
Perhaps our rather moralistic conclusion on this album should be: think carefully about what you wish for. Two generations of musical heroes, that have had more women fainting at their knees than Calum Best has had page three stunners, working together on a futuristic, funk-rock album sounded like all of our Christmases had come at once. Plus with Timbaland on hand in the knob-twiddling department, it sounded like someone had put Sarah from Girls Aloud in Santa's sack for us as a treat. But the end result leaves you feeling dirty. It's disappointing, and, quite shockingly for a Duran Duran album, incredibly boring. Much like watching your dad showing his Status Quo air guitar moves at your 18th birthday party, Duran Duran have got far too old to be rocking it with the kids. Unfortunately nobody has informed them yet.
