The Sweat/Suit dual offering in 2005 did further damage to the St Louis native's credibility, despite the sales doing wonders for his bank balance. And a glimpse at the guest artists on Brass Knuckles is not exactly enticing for anyone hoping for a refreshing listen - Fergie, R Kelly, Ashanti and Ciara do not exactly set a hip-hop head's pulse racing.

Sooner or later though, one may learn not to judge a book by its back cover - as far as Brass Knuckles is concerned, it's a lesson learned very quickly. Within about 30 seconds of U Ain't Him starting, all preconceptions of an RnB artists masquerading as a rapper are quickly set aside listening to the track's big bass and bashy lyrics, even before Rick Ross pops up with his trademark bravado.

Hold Up is almost as thrilling, being a real throwback to the St Lunatics' early days - it's reminiscent of Country Grammar's Greed, Hate, Envy but with the addition of heavy-weight rappers LL Cool J and T.I..

Strangely it works as a warm-up to the more typical hip-pop like the tracks that follow, but even then there is, for the first time, a sense that this side of Nelly is more for fun than for sales. Just listen to Lie's hook and you'll begin to understand, thanks to the absence of the forced emotion of Nelly's previous slow-jams like Over and Over.

The Fergie-featuring Party People is Brass Knuckles' surprise track - an in your face speaker-bleeder with absolutely no touch of glamour and more than a hint of crunk. Almost incredibly there is no comic value to what feels like a rap battle between the two artists, which can't be said for Stepped on My J'Z, but even then Jermaine Dupri's signature production keeps the track on the right side of credible despite it being pretty much an updated version of Air Force Ones.

Perhaps even more surprising is that Brass Knuckles' tail-end is as strong as its opening, with the standout track being the illiterately titled Ucud Gedit, which despite featuring the Pied Piper of RnB R Kelly couldn't be pigeon holed into any sort of pop category. It's the embodiment of the Dirty South, and as with the rest of Brass Knuckles it feels much darker than any previous offerings from Nelly.

There's a sense of liberation from the restriction of Sweat/ Suit (well, mainly Suit) helped in no small part by relatively unknown Atlanta producer Polow da Don's desk-work on four of Brass Knuckles' tracks . Nelly's latest offering is hopefully the beginning of the renaissance of an artist who most definitely was starting to look guilty of selling out.

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