CD: David Guetta - Nothing but the Beat

If you want the distilled sound of global hypercapitalism, David Guetta is your man. A genial, workaholic Frenchman, he has created the sound of superclubs from Miami to Dubai to Kuala Lumpur – the sort of clubs where the VIP section is bigger than the main dance floor, with Guetta's own “F*ck Me I'm Famous” parties in Ibiza as the ideal model – and, thanks to the trickle-down effect, the sound of every shopping mall and taxi from here to eternity. His sound is the cheesiest of Nineties commercial dance music given a turbo boost with every possible megastar from the worlds of rap and R&B relentlessly asserting their heterosexuality on top. It's weapons-grade stuff, thickly layered with fizzing sound (ironically given the album's title), purpose built to cut through any chatter or background sound, lodging in the brain of even the most distracted or brain-dead passer-by, and it is – mostly – entirely foul.

If you want the distilled sound of global hypercapitalism, David Guetta is your man. A genial, workaholic Frenchman, he has created the sound of superclubs from Miami to Dubai to Kuala Lumpur – the sort of clubs where the VIP section is bigger than the main dance floor, with Guetta's own “F*ck Me I'm Famous” parties in Ibiza as the ideal model – and, thanks to the trickle-down effect, the sound of every shopping mall and taxi from here to eternity. His sound is the cheesiest of Nineties commercial dance music given a turbo boost with every possible megastar from the worlds of rap and R&B relentlessly asserting their heterosexuality on top. It's weapons-grade stuff, thickly layered with fizzing sound (ironically given the album's title), purpose built to cut through any chatter or background sound, lodging in the brain of even the most distracted or brain-dead passer-by, and it is – mostly – entirely foul.