FOR many, For many, Bryan Adams will always be the immoveable object anchored to the top of the charts by the less-than-irresistible force of THAT song.

You know, the one smeared across the film where Kevin Costner ignores the likelihood of Robin Hood having had an English accent. But it’s unfair to judge the Groover from Vancouver on the sole basis of him spoiling what would otherwise have been a perfectly good 1991.

Mock the Canadian all you like, but his early albums – Cuts Like A Knife, Reckless – contained some classic, honest, energetic, no-frills rock’n’roll. And while it’s maybe unreasonable to assume he’d still have that kind of verve three decades on, it’s not harsh to expect something with a bit more life and imagination than Get Up. The warning signs are in the track listing, with four acoustic versions of songs Adams has already meandered through in the preceding 25 minutes tacked on at the end. It smacks of a dearth of new material, although much more of the sort of new material this album gives us is not an appealing prospect.

With Jeff Lynne (ELO, Travelling Wilburys) on the controls, the production might be fresh, but the sound is half-paced even with its skates on. You Belong To Me is only catchy in the way the New Tricks theme is catchy, while We Did It All and Don’t Even Try are as dull as balladry gets, and Go Down Rockin’, That’s Rock And Roll, and Thunderbolt must have been titled ironically.

Brand New Day (the closest thing to the Adams of old) and Do What You Gotta Do (nothing like the Adams of old, but with a chorus that is at least breathing) salvage some pride, but Get Up is the sound of an elongated musical lie-in.