We're witnessing the Guettaisation of chart music: everything sounding like David Guetta made it. Or, indeed, Calvin Harris (who produced Call My Name here): both he and Guetta pump out indeterminate Euro-house club bangers devoid of personality. That is also a problem facing Britain's sweetheart, the impossibly beautiful Cheryl Cole. Her wobbly performance at the jubilee concert was as unconvincing as a lot of these tracks, particularly post-break-up posturings such as Screw You and Sexy Den a Mutha. She seems less of a cypher when balladeering, as on the quietly persuasive title track.