M.I.A. - Arular

A dense, often chaotic collage of garage from the U.K., dancehall from Jamaica, crunk from the Dirty South, electro and hardcore rap from New York, and glints of a few others -- is unique enough to baffle anyone who dares categorise it.

Beats crack concrete in whomping blasts and scramble senses in exotic patterns; flurries of percussive noise, synthetic handclaps, and synth jabs add chaos; exuberant vocals are delivered in a manner that will be frequently unintelligible to a lot of ears.

More importantly, once all the layers of rhythm and accents are peeled away, you'll hear that Maya Arulpragasam -- the London-based woman of Sri Lankan origin who, along with a host of fellow producers, is behind the album -- has a lot more on her mind and in her past than fun, even when she's only alluding to the violence and strife her people have endured.

The images that adorn the cover of the album aren't present merely for the sake of design, either; the tanks aren't a nod to the No Limit label. (Enter 10,000-word history of pre-tsunami Sri Lanka here.) The one key definite about Arular is that it's the best kind of pop album imaginable. It can be enjoyed on a purely physical level, and it also carries the potential to adjust your world view.

Arular is the sort of record that gets people talking. The debut full-length by Maya Arulpragasam, a refugee of Sri Lankan heritage who settled in London, attended Saint Martin's art school, and designed sleeves for Elastica, it's already set a few dancefloors on fire and stirred up no small amount of controversy in the process. In brief summary: its name is a reference to her father, an active member of the Sri Lankan guerrilla movement Tamil Tigers, a militancy which extends to the album within: "I got the bombs to make you blow", she sings on "Pull Out The People".

Still, whatever you make of the ideology, there's no doubting the excellent tunes: self-penned on a basic groovebox and fleshed out with help from producers like Pulp's Steve Mackay and Richard X, the likes of "Bucky Done Gun" and "Galang" dice together all manner of global styles – hip-hop, Bhangra, Jamaican dancehall and top it off with unmistakable, multi-cultural London sass. Best of all is "Hombre", a come-hither number that should get the boys trembling at the knees: "Excuse me little hombre/ Take my number, call me/ I can get squeaky so/ You can come and oil me".