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Copies of Jessie Ware’s sixth album, Superbloom, ought to come with a beaded curtain to complete the sensual sense of slipping into a late Seventies/early Eighties nightclub. Because this is a record that builds on the retro disco of 2020’s What’s Your Pleasure? and 2023’s That! Feels Good! with layers of flirty flute, boogie-ready bongos and bass, strobing synth lines, dramatic strings and chiffon vocals. “I wanna whisper something naughty, take my clothes off in the party,” teases the 41-year-old Londoner over the Giorgio Moroder-endebted throb of “Sauna”. The confident, deeply rooted soul in her vocal is balanced by the abandoned euphoria of a woman away with the glitter ball fairies, like the 21st century’s answer to Donna Summer.

As fans of her Table Manners podcast will know, Ware has developed a real confidence and embraced her sense of fun since the Sade-nodding, soul sadgirl days of her Mercury-nominated 2012 debut, Devotion. Now a mother of three, accustomed to seating A-list guests (including Paul McCartney, Cher, Reese Witherspoon, Margot Robbie, Louis Theroux, Kylie Minogue and Yotam Ottolenghi) around her podcaster’s dinner table to share her mother’s home cooking, the former journalist and backing singer is strutting into her diva era.

“I trust myself more,” she told The Talks earlier this year. She looked back fondly on the making of Devotion, when she needed producer David Okumu to “nurture” her. Now she prefers to share a studio with those who “challenge” her and has worked with a range of diva-approved producers on Superbloom, including Stuart Price (Madonna, Dua Lipa), John Shave (Charli XCX, Britney Spears) and TommyD (Beyoncé, Kylie, Adele). The consequence is a playful record that pushes in different directions without straying too far from the Seventies dancefloor brief.

Ware – who had a custom whip made for her last tour – used to be squeamish about putting too much sex in the songs. But now she sinks into all the gasping, moaning vocal cosplay of vintage disco. The easy-going (if not wildly inventive) opener “I Could Get Used To This” sees her promising “pleasure’s just around the corner” over a terrifically plucked fluid bass.

Jessie Ware’s ‘Superbloom’ (Island EMI Records)

There’s more come-hithering on “Sauna”, with its bubble-sizzle synth pulse, steamy exhalations and Daft Punk meets Weather Girls chorus: “I don’t need faster I need stronger”. Trad masc guys are in demand here, with “Sauna”’s call for an old school wood chopper of a guy matched by “Ride”’s manifestation of “a cowboy… a stallion who can go all night”. Over handclaps and a sparkly, pitched up sample of the hook from Ennio Morricone’s theme from the 1966 Spaghetti Western The Good, the Bad and the Ugly, Ware purrs out her yearning for “someone who can blow… my mind” before taking control of the dancefloor with a cry of “Giddyup! Giddyup!”

She hits Shirley Bassey belter mode on “Mr Valentine”, accessorised with Prince-esque flicks of funk guitar and melodic echoes of Irene Cara’s 1980 theme from “Fame”. The rich melodrama and swirling strings get turned up to an imperial 11 on “Don’t Know Who I Am?” (Answer: “I’m the love of your life”.) Ware’s singing is so fluent and flexible she doesn’t need to faff with runs or noodling, and there’s something very soothing in her ability to see the notes cleanly through to their ends.

Like the Pet Shop Boys, Ware is great at bringing the Big Emoting with an edge of wry Britishness. Unlike them, she doesn’t bring much new to the party. At times she sails close to pastiche. For better and for worse, there’s little about this record to suggest it was made in 2026. There’s not a lyric that couldn’t have been convincingly written in 1979. As Ware’s voice floats up to stratospheric high notes on the title track over the ecstatic “ooo”s and “wahh!”s of backing singers, you do wonder if you’re listening to a karaoke version of a lost Minnie Riperton cut. But if that’s the worst I can find to say, then Ware’s clearly acing it. We could probably all use a break from 2026 anyway. DJs should all be rushing out for vinyl copies of the best 1970s album of the 2020s to drop onto their decks.