On the “making of” DVD that accompanies Plastic Beach Gorillaz’ leader Damon Albarn attempts to explain the album to his collaborators – “The whole thing of Plastic Beach is that we are just perilously close to overload. We’ve gotta start taking ownership of records again as opposed to… constant fragmentation of everything. There’s no meditation on one thing [anymore]. So maybe you’ve got to make something so varied that it feels like you’re going through all that flipping mentality, but you’re actually meditating on one thing.”

There’s a theme of damaged nature throughout the record, but although the album takes pollution as a theme Albarn isn’t keen on recycling his old work or relying on sampling to create his beats (though Eddy Grant may claim otherwise) the only samples credited are of field recordings from Nigeria, Syria, Pitsea Landfill, ‘a beach in Devon’ and David Attenborough.

After briefly reuniting Blur in 2009 Albarn seems to have had his fill of crowd pleasing choruses and turned away from pop hooks in favour of a more downbeat sound. Plastic Beach lacks the pop and hip-hop that brought MF Doom, Neenah Cherry, Ike Turner, Roots Manuva, De La Soul and Shaun Ryder to Gorillaz’ last opus Demon Days. There are still hip-hop elements but they feel as though they’re included simply to draw interest to the album, rather than sitting happily in the Gorillaz sound.

After an orchestral introduction Snoop Dogg welcomes listeners to the world of the Plastic Beach with casual ease, but English rappers Bashy and Kano are at sea as they attempt to set out the albums themes on White Flag. The presence of De La Soul in the studio no doubt had Albarn’s record label fantasising about the company producing another Feel Good Inc, though the track they’ve recorded Super Fast Jellyfish is a pure novelty offering little more than a skit about eating prepackaged jellies for breakfast (“look, it comes with a toy”). Super Furry Animals’ Gruff Rhys is also heard on the gimmicky space filler, making it all the more frustrating that two of the most creative and melodic musicians of modern Britain – Albarn and Rhys – would combine to work on such slight material.

Lead single Stylo lacks the welcoming sheen of Clint Eastwood or Feel Good Inc and is more likely to be remembered for its film clip boasting a smug Bruce Willis cameo or a potential plagiarism lawsuit. Mos Def and Bobby Womack are both along for the ride, but neither can provide the song with any real soul or purpose. Though Stylo fails for meet the expectations of a lead Gorillaz single, both return later on the album, with even less exciting performances. Mos Def’s Sweepstakes isn’t much more than the title repeatedly chanted and dragged out to become the longest track on Plastic Beach, while Womack’s overwrought warble is joined by a pulse of strings to lend some misplaced gravitas to meaningless and ridiculous lyrics such as “Like setting suns at the rodeo/trying to find someone you’ll never know” on Cloud of Unknowing.

The title track reunites former Clash members Mick Jones and Paul Simonon to little effect, while fellow punk legend Mark E Smith from The Fall is barely heard on Glitter Freeze which veers close to the battered electro that Smith ranted over on his Mouse on Mars collaboration Von Südenfed. The rumoured collaboration with Barry Gibb of the Bee Gees never made it to the studio and though The Horrors are seen in the studio during on the albums the band doesn’t even rate a mention in the album notes after their collaboration missed the cut.

Not all the cameos fail. Empire Ants is a simply gorgeous tune of hazy Albarn melancholia that shifts gear midpoint with a beat that echoes Stylo and introduces the hushed voice of Little Dragons’ Yukimi Nagono. She returns on the equally charming To Binge , which recalls the undisguised emotion of Blur’s Tender_ as Albarn sings “I just have to tell you that I love you so much these days” with naked emotion. While Lou Reed speaks his wisdom with a shaman like simplicity on the excellent Some Kind of Nature.

However the high points of the album come with the uncluttered near solo efforts that allow Albarn to meditate on his vision of the album – “Not politics, but a social realism, parallel with love.” Without high profile cameos to take the spotlight or clutter the tunes Alburn’s lost child voice offers moments of quiet reflection. Despite the concerns about pollution, Albarn still finds beauty in the haze on Rhinestone Eyes (“Your rhinestone eyes are like factories far away”) and the deceptively simple Melancholy Hill (‘You are my medicine when you’re close to me’) provides an apt alternative title for the mood of the record.

Plastic Beach isn’t a bad record, just a disappointing one. It’s tempting to attribute the uninspiring sound to the absence of an extra set of ears in the studio assisting Albarn’s production calls. The fist record was polished to a pop sheen by Dan the Automator’s clean sound while the second record had the indie world’s favourite producer Dangermouse behind the desk but Albarn has washed up on the shores of Plastic Beach alone and punters seeking pop thrills will be dismayed by the records melancholic mood.