This was publishedin the first issue of Drum magazine, the country's most popular London-based, quarterly, Black culture magazine. Presumably. The version they printed was a bit edited, so this is the full version. It is actually slightly worse, but you're here now, so there you go.

Being a dead pop star has its pros and cons. On the upside, death tends to focus people’s minds. Dead artists are bathed in a flattering light of critical re-evaluation, swiftly followed by renewed commercial success. On the downside, you’re dead, which makes it harder to enjoy your re-energised career, as well as often being smelly and cramped. Plus, career re-birth can often turn into a ghoulish exercise in myth making and hagiography.

Not for nothing has Aaliyah been described as R n’ B’s Princess Di. Her demise in a plane crash 2 years ago was met with a belch of grief from the R ‘n B ‘community’ unseen since Notorious B.I.G (it shoulda been Puffy) and Tupac Shakur (it shoulda been Snoop, or at least Warren G) went to the great gang bang in the sky. In the weeks that followed, the brilliance of Aaliyah’s musical legacy was lost under the slurry of unseemly sentiment. Hopefully the release of ‘I Care 4U’ can drag the memory of her astonishing music from under the weight of her status as a tragic heroine.

Taking in her early days as the 15-year old protégé of piggy-eyed home-video enthusiast R Kelly (who wrote and produced the quite innocently named ‘Age Ain’t Nothin’ But a Number’ album) to her more recent, groundbreaking work as part of the Timbaland stable (along with the massively underrated Ginuwine), ‘I Care 4U’ also showcases 6 new songs.

Unfortunately, the much-anticipated new material is disappointing; mostly reminiscent of the syrupy fillers you skip past on your Destiny’s Child CD. Only ‘Don’t Know What To Tell Ya’ stands out; sweet, understated vocals weaving around Bontempi violin stabs just like old times. But forthcoming single ‘I Miss You’ is particularly dire, and worryingly formulaic.

Nonetheless, the dizzying, serpentine groove of ‘We Need a Resolution’ is still a spine-tingling, genre-defining masterpiece, and the perfect antidote to the bland ‘I wanna be down’ isms of the likes of Alicia Keys and (shudder) Ashanti. And the inclusion of the exquisite ‘Are You That Somebody?’ – previously locked away on the Dr Doolittle soundtrack – complete with trademark stammering beats and squealing-baby sample, is a reminder of how perfect and ingenious pop music can be.

Timbaland’s insistence on croaking mechanically over so many of his tunes gets slightly wearing at times – at least R Kelly had the good grace to step into the background, though possibly with a camcorder – but you feel inclined to forgive this indulgence in the man behind the chilly, glutinous funk of ‘Try Again’ and the title track’s beatboxing torch-song.

Listening to this peerless collection should remind us that we deserve better from our pop stars: say NO to any more of Pink’s throwaway, peaches and cream angst; NO to Kelly Rowland’s bland moralising; NO to Ashanti’s insipid, perfunctory trilling. And thank God that we have the likes of Tweet, Missy, and Justin Timberlake to take up the slack for these ugly-bugs.

I pray that Sony resist the urge to stage a Biggie-style grave robbery of Aaliyah’s unreleased recordings, desperately searching for anything spooky or prescient. Another album of ‘I Miss You’ s would only harm her legacy. I also hope that her fans can quit sentimentalising her death with their mawkish message-board tributes. Obsessing over her memory will only trivialise it. What we have is quite enough. Everything is just fine.