Norah Jones, however, is a global phenomenon. Her 2002 debut Come Away With Me sold 18m copies, 8m in the US, where she receives little airplay. One theory is that her music acted as an aural balm in the wake of 9/11. It is unobtrusive, and inflected with traditional American genres of country, blues, folk and jazz. Much has been made of her links to the latter genre: she studied jazz piano and is signed to the venerable label Blue Note. In fact, Jones seems less like an heir to the throne of Ella Fitzgerald than a millennial version of Sade: a beautiful female vocalist whose exoticism and jazz chops are somewhat undermined by the knowledge that she makes the sort of music that middle managers from Basingstoke put on in the background when they think they're going to get their leg over. They are liable to be delighted with Jones's second album, as long as they don't think an increased dose of country will hamper their chances. Presumably in an attempt to vary the relentless crawling of Come Away With Me, Jones has upped the Nashville content in her music. In addition, her success has attracted some all-star special guests. Levon Helm and Garth Hudson of the Band crop up on What Am I to You?, Dolly Parton sings a duet and Tom Waits gifts her a song, The Long Way Home. The latter's dark lyrics sound a little incongruous with such a pedestrian musical backing: "I've got a handful of lightning and a head full of rain," simpers Jones, sounding like a woman with a handful of tissues and a head full of shopping lists. Her voice has a husky intimacy, but it is oddly inexpressive, something she might have considered before calling upon Dolly Parton's services. Parton is just messing around on Creepin' In, chuckling at the song's close, but it still sounds as if she has Jones pinned to the wall of the studio with the sheer power of her voice.

The rest wafts discreetly around the room like something manufactured by Airwick. Don't Know Why, the best-known track from Come Away With Me, had an undeniable melody: you might not have liked it, but it was impossible to dislodge from your head. There's nothing similar here. In fact, Feels Like Home is so inoffensive you have trouble remembering whether you put it on. You suspect that this is the appeal for the millions of people who buy this kind of thing. They are past the point of wanting to be moved or inspired by rock and pop. Instead they treat music as something ornamental, something with which you can tastefully decorate your home. Beautifully produced and beautifully played to no cumulative effect whatsoever, this album fits the bill perfectly.