Sad to say, Stacey Kent, whom I have admired for over a decade, has run out of steam. This album misses out entirely on the energy and freshness that marked much of her previous work. The new songs, written by Jim Tomlinson and other members of the band, with a little help from their friends, are of a stunning dreariness and banality. The words are hand-me-downs from tin pan alley - full of wishes on stars and clover - and the melodies, well they hardly exist at all, just a mildly modulated, almost spoken, song line. They all sound the same. I have always enjoyed bossa nova but her version of it is tired and clichéd. I am happy for Stacey and Jim that they have fallen in love again with Brazil, learned some Portuguese and are thrilled by their access to certain relics of the Brazilian popular music revolution of the 1960s. But it is not because they have had some great visits to Brazil that they have succeeded in reinventing this genre in a way that will strike new chords with today's audiences. This album would make pleasant background music in a restaurant or cafe but is deeply disappointing if you actually listen to the words and music.