Jake Bugg’s third album lends itself to morbid fascination. That’s not necessarily a bad thing – there’s always been something bracingly audacious about the Nottingham native’s swaggering, broad-brushstroke take on the folk and blues traditions of half a century ago. On My One, however, sees Bugg also draw on a more diverse range of genres in a way so crude and conspicuous that it is strangely captivating. Sometimes the resulting tracks are just cringeworthy – such as the astonishingly cack-handed hip-hop of Ain’t No Rhyme. Elsewhere, though, they turn out to be quite endearing, as on Never Wanna Dance’s blue-eyed soul or the jaunty country of Livin’ Up Country. But as that last song title makes very clear, there’s not an awful lot of imagination in evidence here. Some of the lyrics sound slapdash, while Bugg’s major subject – a girlfriend who he has realised he’s just not that into anymore – isn’t exactly heart-rending stuff.