SMOOTH as the cheese spread of the same name, Philadelphia chanteuse Melody Gardot has left behind the exotic global travels and lavish orchestrations of 2012's The Absence to graft her new wave of social consciousness on to the soul and funk of the late Sixties and early Seventies. Her fourth studio album is replete with funked-up bass, bayou-steamy Hammond organ, retro horns, gospel swells and more grooves than front teeth marking a custard cream. For all the patented Gardot smoothness, she is addressing "tumultuous times in our troubled world", adding field recordings and radio static to complement lyrics built around the Los Angeles street life she absorbed while making these urbane, brooding protest songs with producer Larry Klein and French arranger Clément Ducol. She calls it a "reflective-collective, less personal, and more observatory" record, eschewing the pop and jazz staples of love, desire and fantasy for a commentary on war, famine, poverty and life on the fringe. These are sharp, sophisticated, stunning songs from the shadows.