Primal Scream have enjoyed a constantly-shifting lineup over the last few years and a sound which has changed more than the length of frontman Bobby Gillespie's hair. Their third album, the seminal ecstasy-rock-pop Screamadelica, launched them into the popular music press, made them indie darlings and defined the start of the 1990s for a great many people. Since then we've been treated to full-on rock'n'roll (Give Out But Don't Give Up), an post-dance dub-baggy masterpiece (Vanishing Point), a full-throated nihilistic hip-hop roar (Xtrmntr) and a furious, raddled, 5am electro comedown (Evil Heat). This album, freed from the heavy influences of vogueish producers such as Two Lone Swordsmen and David Holmes, is a return to the form touted in Give Out... - first single Country Girl was a bit of a shock for the Mohawk-sporting kids who expected another Miss Lucifer.

It's a passable album but you can't help but get the feeling that the Scream's days are done and that they will never again be able to so perfectly sum up an era of music as potently as they did with Vanishing Point, undoubtedly their finest work. While tracks on Riot City Blues tick all of the relevant Scream boxes (titles which look like they've been made on a "cool nouns" fridge magnetic poetry kit, girls called Suicide Sally, liberally-howled profanity) and even, sometimes, edge towards the kind of eloquent euphoria or darkness which made tracks such as Shoot Speed, Kill Light, Blood Money and Burning Wheel so very astonishing first time round (When The Bomb Drops and Little Death see Gillespie on vintage form, whispering seductively over thrumming basslines and shuffling beats) there's nothing here which makes you sit right up and pay immediate attention.

Not bad, but a slightly disappointing return.