murmured Green Gartside, the singer, songwriter, producer and all-around muse of the band) that may have made the album too smart for its own good; after all, the dance floor's hardly the spot for discourses on funk epistemology.

On Provision, the crew is out to perpetrate some chart action. And, refreshingly enough, Scritti Politti's songs have a sweetheart modesty, something generally not found in white-chocolate pop, a candy store that includes the cynical confectioners George Michael and Daryl Hall. But Gartside and his fellow Scrits – keyboardist, songwriter and producer David Gamson and drummer Fred Maher – laid down a hearty bottom and recruited a ranking list of contributors. The result is a consistently pleasurable piece of work, including such songs as "Boom! There She Was," a spinning, funky toy, with Zapp's Roger adding more bounce to the ounce. Even Miles Davis turns up, tooting out his three-note groupings for the tailored heart-on-the-sleeve song "Oh Patti (Don't Feel Sorry for Loverboy)." The album is good enough to make Double Oh-Oh himself – that's Clinton, George Clinton – shake his Rainbow Coalition dreadlocks in happy agreement.

But Provision's consistency is a little nagging. Gartside and Gamson, who have abandoned mentor Arif Mardin, are meshing better as a production team: this album has been made to go the distance. Even "Best Thing Ever" – which seemed feathery and functional on the Who's That Girl soundtrack, a feathery and functional record if there ever was one – has a tasty butter-cream tang that leaves you craving more. But the whole thing makes one pine for the zig and zag of Cupid & Psyche 85, which had three legitimately great songs. Or "Love of a Lifetime," the Gartside-Gamson production for Chaka Khan that spectacularly combined the shamelessness of pop with the fearlessness of soul.

Perhaps part of the problem is Gartside's utter lack of presumption; at times, you can sense the jitter in his hand and the lump in his throat. He's too talented a writer and producer to be so down on his pluck. It's not that Provisions isn't a terrific record, because it is. But if Scritti Politti continues with this air-conditioned insularity of drum machines and sampling, it could end up hit by the Brit-funk zombie that has turned far too many promising Motown wannabes into house musicians for the