This so should not work: an album by a rap superstar that features almost no rapping at all; whose sonic tones (pulsing electro beats, synth bass, minor keys) are, barring two exceptions, of a sombre hue; on which West, autotuned and Vocodered, elects to sing; and whose limited palette is bound to strike some as samey to the point of tedium. Yet 808s & Heartbreak is a triumph, recklessly departing from the commercially copper-bottomed script and venturing far beyond West’s comfort zone. The death, last year, of his mother and his break-up with his fiancée seem to have unlocked an emotional candour of such a personal nature that listening to songs such as Street Lights and Love Lockdown can seem almost voyeuristic. On the latter, West combines a childlike piano motif with hurtling, tribal drums and a chorus whose spryness cannot obscure the bleakness at its heart. One of the album’s most fascinating aspects is that, no matter how deep West delves into the dark heart of his state of mind, his sharp ear for hooks cannot help but assert itself. Bad News’s funereal northern-soul two-step might be strange, but it lodges in the head. And the sheer mad fun of Paranoid’s nods to Blue Monday and Van Halen’s Jump is evidence that, amid the heartbreak, West is reconnecting with his mischievous side, too. A bizarre, brave and brilliant album.

Roc-a-Fella/Mercury 1791341

Editor's choice

• The 100 Best Films of the Decade
• 70 facts you didn't know about Marvel
• The 50 Biggest Movies Of 2010