- Mullumbimby’s own Iggy Azalea briefly exploded on to life's main stage of - subdued - stardom after quite literally running away from her life, family and our big, collective red rock. The runaway Aussie battler fumbled her way to Miami at the ripe old age of sixteen and eventually caught the eye of rapper, turned jailbait, turned business mogul, T.I.. T.I. hasn't always been blessed with the greatest decision making ability and god only knows what happened to his career as a rap superstar but you gotta give it to him for having a crack. He spotted a sparkle in the eye of the young delinquent dreamer, co-signed her and released her debut studio EP, Glory.

It's been a couple of years now since that twenty-so minutes of reasonably intriguing, but perhaps a little unfulfilling music, and aside from a whole lot of not much clogging the internet like dank hair in a damp drain, there's been...not much. At least Iggy Azalea has successfully avoided, disappearing altogether, into that abyss. Listening to Azalea's long-delayed debut full-length, the misleadingly entitled, The New Classic, at times made me think back to that first Drake record. That small window in which that particular Canadian upstart had this real fire in his belly to prove himself as a three dimensional rapper, worthy of your attention.

Azelea isn't like that. Starting off reflectively, she's soon giving way to bombast and, in the process, glossing over her genuine struggle and negating any real emotional connection with the listener. Instead her growing self-caricature becomes inescapable and - unlike the untouchable Jim Carey - Azalea fails to realise the importance of being true to yourself, letting your own whacky little magic shine.

Her larger than life showmanship is often a wasted effort. The New Classic working best when Iggy returns to roots, lets her guard down. And while there's talent bubbling, close to the surface, so far it has failed to arrive. Her personality is pushed down behind the electronics-heavy, club-ready beats and, well, there's a lot of people we can get that from.

The New Classic - to no hip hop head's great surprise - does not live up to its, hopefully, tongue-in-cheek name. The record sounds like twelve, kinda-alright songs you'll delete from your iTunes in six months, which perhaps would have been a more apt title.

- Jay Edwards.