The question of selling out isn't so much a question, rather, a nerve just waiting to be touched by angry young men. Lavish production, soaring, happy vocals and acoustic chord progressions can be too much to stomach for the belly of sensitive little fans. In the case of Benga, the Croydon based producer has already anticipated accusations of sounding too poppy, and expressed complete disinterest at rising to such comments. "This is actually the stuff I like," he says of his work, five years after Diary of an Afro Warrior, unashamedly confident and comfortable with his output on this latest album.

But despite the long mutated whispers of a follow up to the game changing Diary of an Afro Warrior, and with a grand pillar of anticipation created with a title like Chapter II, there's just not the same level of prophecy associated with Benga anymore. Although he comes across as someone currently playing with the idea of fame, not being adverse to the idea in recent interviews and going over his grimy bedroom production with a can of Mr Muscle, hype so far hasn't managed to tumble down in his direction. His stint in Magnetic Man has left him with a palate for success, and we can see the beginnings of that in Chapter II.

The guest appearances on the album reveal this desire right away - not a new addition to a Benga release in any sense of the word, but much more bombastic than anything else he's put out. The over the top pop outbursts from the likes of Kano and Youngman drag the synths out of the grimy garages, and into angelic pop notes that attempt to fit into place with the bittersweet cheap- coke-and-vodka vocals.

Benga may come out strongest in his lower key progressions - If he'd have continued like that we'd probably have had a pretty straight sequel to Diary of an Afro Warrior - but the pop choruses are crammed in, grinning inanely and looking they're having a good time.

If you're not baying for Benga blood by the middle of Forefather, you've pretty much passed the test. Sam Frank's chorus on 'Warzone' is just so silly and obvious that you'll probably love it - "Woooo-oo, woooo-oo, it's like I'm living in a warzone" - and 'Higher' features singer songwriter Autumn Rowe coming out with some lines about falling in love with the club or the bass, and quite possibly the dance floor and other things of that nature. The song even has a cameo from that bloody dance piano that pulsed through all those early nineties classics like the Happy Monday's 'Step On'.

Despite all this, we're still getting all the old Benga tricks on queue. Echoing kick-drum, atmospheric pauses, stuttering synth, minimalistic bass. Futuristic steam vents huffing. And then kicking into another synth chorus. The barriers aren't being broken; they're being ridden for all they're worth. Tracks like the 170bpm 'Yellow' and 'Click and Tap', are a prime example, the nice subtle way that the percussion fizzes and quietly wraps itself around the progression are lovely, but it's little more than a throwback to Diary of an Afro Warrior with a bit of icing on the top.

It's perhaps wrong to hound Benga on his oft-quoted early experiences of mixing with the Playstation's Music 2000 programme, but there still seems to be an unmistakeable influence resonating on Chapter II (if an entire videogame console can be counted as such) with glimpses and flashbacks of the Rez and Timesplitters 2 soundtracks quietly humming in a darkened room. But it's still a step up from Diary in the sense that there's more presence. The sounds are crisper and clearer, and it would give you a headache if you tried drawing the curtains, sticking on Max Payne, and putting this on. Chapter II isn't nearly the page turning landmark the name implies. It can't really be enjoyed for classic Benga, and isn't exactly full of club bangers, but it can be enjoyed in places as an awkward hybrid between the two.