This is not a jazz album as such. Debate over whether it even belongs in these pages may well consume some but it is surely far more useful, if not ultimately honest, to critique the work for what it sets out to do rather what it doesn't. Glasper the soloist, Glasper the chops merchant, Glasper the 32-bar improv dynamo, is not the raison d’être here, and he could argue that he doesn't need to state as much given the fact that Mood and In My Element have that base covered. He's already proved he can play. The order of the day here is songs. Which, it's easy to forget, is one of the common denominators between jazz and forms of black popular music such as soul, funk and hip hop. In any case, the key thing is that this work is actually not just about Glasper plus stellar guest vocalists, as important as their contributions are. The real star of the show is neither. It's the band. Drummer Chris Dave, bassist Derrick Hodge and saxophonist Casey Benjamin are outstanding in their negotiation of rhythms that reflect some of the terse, unapologetically truncated nature of hip hop production but still have room for a sneak of syncopation or a sly resolution that stems from the advanced training that is required to play jazz standards. All of which is crucial because without this kind of coherent thread, the set could have very easily turned into an ungainly patchwork, given the large guest list. But for the most part, the singers, particularly Ledisi and Stokley Williams, excel on what is essentially sophisticated soul music while Glasper's ambition is displayed to great advantage by the title track, a mutating hip hop suite in which a series of melodic interludes and enticing shifts of mood unfurl from Mos Def's opening salvo of thought-provoking verse. As is the case elsewhere on the album, questions are being asked on the culture wars and their wider political context, subjects that should again crop up if you care to debate where exactly on black or white radio Robert Glasper belongs.