As comebacks go, you’d have to go all the way back to Britney’s infamous MTV Awards performance of Gimme Some to think of one that must have caused its architects more mortification than Robbie Williams’s recent X Factor appearance. Cruel as tabloid headlines can be, “Mummy — Who’s That Strange Man on X-Factor?” encapsulated Williams’ spook-faced performance of Bodies and the years of post-Rudebox invisibility that preceded it. But it was damage undone at his Electric Proms show. Angels and Millennium sounded underwhelming among the better songs from Reality Killed the Radio Star.

Subsequent listens to his eighth album underscore those first impressions. As ever, Williams takes the art of self-absorption to new heights. On Advertising Space (2005) he wrote about himself by way of Elvis — and, apparently inspired by Michael Jackson’s death, the magnificent opener Morning Sun takes a similar route to self-knowledge, with more than a hint of Life on Mars: “A message to the troubadour/The world don’t love you any more.” Trevor Horn’s involvement is well documented — but the real masterstroke has been the deployment of his Art of Noise collaborator Anne Dudley. If a Robbie album has to have singles that lodge themselves on radio playlists for months then the orchestral stardust sprinkled by Dudley on Bodies and You Know Me realises their potential.

But anyone seeking out the “real” Robbie will note the change in emotional air pressure that takes hold halfway through the album. Last Days of Disco ushers in a discombobulation that dissipates only with Won’t Do That, a paean to current “Swiss army wife” Ayda Field. But in between those songs lie three of his finest: the rainy-day ennui of Deceptacon, the electropop of Difficult for Weirdos and the volcanic, orchestral powerchords of Superblind. Maybe you really can’t please all of the people all of the time, but at times like this, Reality Killed the Video Star comes heroically close.

(EMI; out on Mon)

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