As leader of the Scottish band Orange Juice, Edwyn Collins crafted rich, devil-may-care pop that combed the styles of the 1980s, greatly influencing fellow countrymen like Teenage Fanclub and Eugenius. But Orange Juice's releases like the 1982 albums You Can't Hide Your Love Forever and Rip It Up or the Texas Fever EP, released in 1984, were a source of fresh-faced fun. Even subsequent Collins solo recordings like Hope and Despair and Hellbent on Compromise are scant warning for the biting, jaded attack of Gorgeous George.

Now in his mid-30s, Collins has largely abandoned his friendly pop youth in favor of a new musical reality that's darker, if still catchy. On Gorgeous George's opening track, "The Campaign for Real Rock," Collins lambastes clichéd musicians and a greedy music industry in a scathing diatribe. He targets "pretenders to the throne" and "overrated" bands immersed in "the ritual of the thrashed guitar," the lyrics sung over a menacingly slow beat and plaintive strumming. Like a '60s protest singer, Collins catalogs a list of ills as his Bowie-esque baritone grows angry and hoarse. The song culminates with the lines "Repackaged, sold and sanitized/The devil's music exorcised/You live ... you lie, you die/Just to perpetuate the lie." Surprising stuff from a guy who named his first band after a breakfast drink.

Collins' melodic gifts are spellbinding on the Motown-ish "A Girl Like You." A Top 5 hit throughout Europe, the song rides on a cloud of shimmering vibraphone and fuzz-toned guitar. Never buying into one style wholesale – that would be too easy – Collins will mix Philly soul with acid rock ("I've Got It Bad") or anchor whimsical pop with a drugged-out lethargy ("It's Right In Front of You"). Collins also knocks off beautiful country odes full of stark observations ("North of Heaven," "Low Expectations").

Even when the music's comforting, the lyrics always return to his stinging observations and worldview. A veteran of "the truly detestable summer festivals" he sings of in "Campaign ...," Collins must know the "go-getters" who lurk backstage at such events. From this experience, he has created the "Gorgeous George" archetype – the megapushy A&R man or the obnoxious publicist. "So why did you pick on me?" Collins asks near the title track's end. "Should I return that call? Talk to your answer-phone?"

In its evaluation of rock as tired, unimaginative and clichéd, Collins' music recalls John Lennon's "Gimme Some Truth" and Frank Zappa's "Tinseltown Rebellion" – couched in the gentle wit of Ray Davies. But with its enchanting melodies and chameleonlike melding of styles, Gorgeous George is more about assimilations than acrimony. (RS 719)

KEN MICALLEF