The rapper wasn't playing: this really is a deep house album, with pounding, minimal production you wouldn't be surprised to hear soundtracking a swank beach club in Ibiza. Four-to-the-floor percussion and swooshing filter sounds are the name of the game.
Puff is largely relegated to a source of vocal samples. His disembodied voice, processed into oblivion, haunts the dark corners of the tracks. He rarely utters more than a handful of words per song, like the loop of "I've got to go" cycling over the low-slung bustle of "Broken Windows."

Another highlight is "Terminal K", a slice of industrial house that wouldn't sound out of place at a 6 a.m. warehouse after-hours party. After decades of opulence, Puff Daddy seems to have decided that less is more.