Last Train to Paris

Crucially though, what Diddy lacks in eloquence he makes up for in pop sensibility, which here keeps edgier elements the right side of radio friendly.

Despite the array of producers lined up--Including Danja, Darkchild, Polow da Don and Swizz Beatz--Diddy has corralled their work into a tight, coherent whole that's absolutely packed with ideas and creativity.

The chilly Euro-house stylings may be a mite predictable but Diddy proves a generous curator, laying on blockbuster exhibits and atmospheric slow jamz alike in the greatest cast-of-millions hip-hop joint since, well, Kanye's latest.

While the context may be different, Last Train to Paris suggests that, despite all the reality show-making, fashion designing, acting, inexplicable-name-changing, vodka-promoting, dressed-in-all-white-partying, skeet-shooting-with-Kevin-Spacey (probably) and all the other activities that make up a day in the life of Diddy, it's likely that he really does, and it shows.

It's both the sleaziest album of the year and Diddy's intricate fantasy world of mistreatment and vindication presented as a bizarre mass.

While it's clear that Last Train's combination of electro and house with hip-hop and R&B is Combs's baby, it's the group format that makes it work as an album.

Paris looks back to dance music as soulful catharsis and emotionalism, not the cold thump that's taken over as of late.

As with most of Diddy's ventures, his presence is largely behind the scenes as he turns in intermittent rhymes and fleeting commentary on the album's story line.