Peter Cincotti must have been a nightmare to go to school with. You know the type. Every school has at least one. The classic over- achiever. Damien was the lad at my school. He was captain of the cricket team, centre forward for the football team, top of the class, a hit with the girls, effortlessly good looking and extremely punchable. I am sure Peter Cincotti's classmates felt the same. An actor with roles in Spiderman 2 and the recent Bob Darrin biopic Beyond The Sea.

A model, starring from the album cover beneath a floppy fringe like a baby faced Dr Carter. His looks have just secured him a modelling contract for Zenga Menswear. If that wasn't enough he is a musical prodigy. He started sharing a stage with his hero Harry Connick Jr from the tender age of seven. What a pain in the arse he must have been. I wonder if he brought his famous friends in for a show and tell.

To my untrained ears the fingerprints of Harry Connick Jr, are all over this album. Like a Stars In Their Eyes version of his hero, Peter Cincotti voice is like a third hand Frank Sinatra.The music has been produced with a very modern sheen. Bright, crisp and clean, all bustling double bass and air brushed drums.

The opening St Louis Blues is built around a funky little sax riff and is pleasant enough, Cincotti piano playing initially complementary and not too showy. Unfortunately after a short while the urge to display his jazz chops gets the better of him. The final two minutes of the track are an exercise in pointless showmanship. Yes the boy can play piano but it goes on and on and up and down the scale like a vulgar Maria Carey vocal. Hey, why use one note when you can cram in eight!

The LP is a mixture of cover versions and originals. Two Gerry Goffin and Carole King standards, Some Kind of Wonderful and The Drifters' sublime Up On The Roof are tastefully but blandly performed. So queasily smooth the renditions, they could sit happily on an LP by label mate Barry Manilow and not sound out of place. Not really what you would expect from a 20-year-old.

On The Moon, the first of Cincotti's own songs on the album, was composed in a hotel room whilst on tour. A gentle piano melody backed by a rising string section that climaxes like a bombastic Hollywood love scene. It contains a rhyme scheme so trite: hours, flowers, towers, that even a lovesick sixth former would blanch at texting it in a valentine's message.

The album closes with Cherokee, a rite of passage for any budding jazz musician. Proof that you can play with the big boys. A chance to earn your body weight in Gitanes. It's horrid, a constant flurry of notes, chord changes and blind alleys. A real "Jazz Odyssey".

The album covers the same musical landscape as those cutting edges wonder kids, Jamie Cullum and Michael Bublé. Jazz-lite, all the political undercurrents or polemic intentions of jazz bleached out. What's left? Some stylist devices, that verge more towards easy- listening lift music than the spirit of Miles Davies or Nina Simone. Like caffeine-free diet coke, what's the point when what's left is just so lacking in flavour.

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