'Aerial' consists of 16 tracks on two CDs that sonically share a close kinship with 'The Sensual World' and 'The Red Shoes', and less with the superb 'Hounds of Love' and 'The Dreaming'. It boasts a more laid-back air, dispensing with that nervous edginess, that sense of urgency that underpinned a lot of her previous works. The percussion is more muted and instrumentation streamlined. A few songs feature just Kate and her crystalline, metallic piano. She still tends to paint musical soundscapes rather than write mere songs, especially on the second disc. That obsessiveness with details can be felt here, too. Possibly a dubious first for Ms Bush, but Kate mines her own back catalogue for ideas, and can occasionally sound derivative even of other musicians. While 'Aerial' might eschew the radical innovation of her two seminal albums, it still bears Kate's musical fingerprints, especially in the unpredictable key shifts scattered about, and in that distinctive vocal. Regrettably, Kate now sings with reduced elasticity and power, whether from disuse or the effect of the passing years (and smoking, perhaps?). On the other hand, her voice hasn't lost its capacity to charm or excite.

Kate's poetic humour resurfaces with the throbbing 'How to Be Invisible'. Its recipe, calling for a 'pinch of keyhole', 'fold[ing] yourself up' and 'think[ing] inside out,', and 'Eye of Braille/Hem of anorak/Stem of wallflower/Hair of doormat' exemplifies Kate Bush's playful and eccentric imagination. Kate then pays tribute to two women: 'Joanni' is an immediately appealing rock-pop nod to the Maid of Orléans, while the balladesque 'The Coral Room', written for her late mother, takes a few listens to reveal its cryptic poignancy.

However! …hearing 'Nocturn' and nothing else at first might really make you think you've put the wrong disc on, certainly not a Kate Bush one! The percussion sets up a numbingly regular rhythm, and the sleepy vocal sounds nothing like the Kate known to fans. Only when the 'Big Sky'-like choruses come in does that welcome Kate Bush sound reveal itself. The disc closes with the pulsating, eponymous track that has touches of Laurie Anderson and Phillip Glass, decorated latterly with birdcalls and chirps, giggles and laughter, presumably of Kate and son chasing the blackbirds in the fields. Although 'A Sky of Honey''s lyrics pale next to 'A Sea of Honey', I find these lines from 'Sunset' to be an enchanting delight: 'Where sands sing in crimson, red and rust/Then climb into bed and turn to dust.'

Alas for Kate Bush, she will always be haunted by her two greatest artistic successes, 'Hounds of Love' and 'The Dreaming', in which she raised the bar for herself so high that almost anything afterwards would never satisfy to the same degree. That huge shadow aside, Kate's newest album offers something worthwhile, despite a few weak links, and still stands apart from the pack. There's less originality than one expects for a Kate Bush project, but its more mature and relaxed disposition likely reflects the singer's own personal evolution, and might just grow upon disappointed listeners with time. It is worth the wait, dearies. 'Aerial' soars, but ever so gently…and that's not such a bad thing.