M.I.A. - Kala

If you name your first album after your militant father, pepper it with references to the PLO and the Tamil Tigers, and throw a thinly-veiled accusation of paedophilia towards R Kelly while you’re at it, you can’t fail to cause a stir.

Fortunately, M.I.A.’s 2005 effort Arular wasn’t just all talk. Whilst unmistakably part of grime’s short-lived excursion into the mainstream, its Asian influences, political awareness and dry humour, along with the usual urban references, marked it out as something special.

Two years on, Mathangi Arulpragasam, the British born US resident of Sri Lankan descent, returns with Kala, irked to be seen as just another project for sometime cohort Diplo. Despite the constant attribution to the Miami DJ, production duties are shared between a number of collaborators, with M.I.A. herself taking on much of the burden. Unsurprisingly, this does mean that the ever tiresome Timbaland turns up, though fortunately this lone dip in quality , Come Around, is left until last; sadly taking the edge off the stunning precursor, Paper Planes.

Few people are as entitled to sample the Clash as M.I.A., her constant two fingers to the establishment embodying the spirit of punk in a way that will surely have the always eclectic Joe Strummer looking down in admiration, and hanging said track on Straight to Hell (from the aptly titled Combat Rock) works perfectly. So too does the use of lyrics from Pixies’ Where is My Mind on $20, which takes on an even more haunting role than normal after initially pulling the rug from under your feet.

Opener Bamboo Banger is relentless, setting the pace for the rest of the album, rarely letting up through the likes of Down River or XR2. Lead single Boyz sounds as fresh as ever, and the rest of the record lives up to the hype created when it originally landed sometime in April. However, its follow up Jimmy which could attract the most attention. A Bollywood cover version with an unashamed 80s pop feel, it’s a track which brims with confidence and kitsch sub-continental charm.

Its not just M.I.A.’s Sri Lankan heritage and South London upbringing which is evident in the beats though; African tribal rhythms, Brazilian baille funk and even hints of Aboriginal wood sections all appear, forming a multicultural melting point befitting her diverse roots.

Her lyrics also again swing from the political and subversive (“I put people on the map that never seen a map”, “The war in me makes a warrior”) to the comic and peculiar, (“I like fish and mango pickle”) via an intriguing mix of both (“I’m an illegal / I don’t pay tax tax / EMA? / Yes, I’m claiming that that”), ensuring that her undoubtedly opinionated style never becomes too trite or sanctimonious.

Difficulties at Customs due to her occasionally dubious beliefs may create too much controversy for daytime radio acceptance, but when major label money is continually shunted behind the wanton homophobia and sexism of may rap ‘stars’, surely there’s room for M.I.A.?

After all, a finer album you’d be hard pressed to find this year.