More than a decade ago, R&B/Pop songstress Kelis teamed up with hip-hop production team The Neptunes. The trio let its collective inner “Surfin’ Bird” shine and served us up “Milkshake,” an international hit so massive that both Spongebob and Sonic Drive-in were moved enough to count coup on what was left of the pop smash’s carcass as it was dragged back into camp.

Still, it’s hard to locate a real compelling reason that the track “Biscuits n’ Gravy” is titled thus. Yes, the song repeatedly makes mention of “morning” the primary time of day in which the truck-stop delicacy is consumed. This reviewer suspects that the album title “Food,” as well as song titles such as “Hooch, Cobbler” and “Friday Fish Fry” are less thematic statements and more of a marketing ploy, a deliberate attempt to re-bottle some of that old “Milkshake” lightning.

Vocally, Kelis is reminiscent of “Liquid Paper Soul” angel Teena Marie. While the beats and the horn charts provide a continuity to the album, there are constant musical detours that give us glimpses into the record-filled milk crate of the artist’s mind. “Forever Be” is evocative of the ‘80s synth pop of Erasure. “Runnin’” leaps forward a decade to the trip-hop of Portishead, and “Floyd” addresses the subject that’s always put the “R” in R&B: “I got some space/I want that man to fill it.”

Because artists are so desperate to generate what country singer Steve Earle called “mail box money,” they’re not editing like they should be. There’s a certain nobility in wanting to give the fans more. Yet, so long as recording artists cling to the album as the primary unit of sale, they should also know there is great nobility in the meat axe. Something like “Cobbler” should’ve been a B-side. “Friday Fish Fry” starts with a promising guitar lick worthy of Link Wray but then takes an odd Wall of Voodoo/B-52’s turn for the worse.

There is one line that’s always stuck with me from the otherwise justly forgotten Bill Murray film, “The Man Who Knew Too Little.” In that film, Murray’s character refers to the pucker of a young Joanne Whalley Kilmer, saying, “She has lips like your sofa.” Thanks to its bee-stung horn swells and plush sound, that very same compliment can be applied to about 70 percent of this Kelis effort.

★★★½ / 5

jlrichardson@mavs.coloradomesa.edu