ll the talk/hype surrounding the release of The Future Embrace seems to be revolving around statements like, “Billy Corgan has a blog!” On the surface, this is incredibly stupid, but it’s probably in Corgan’s best interests since it has steered fans and critics away somewhat from discussing his musical Hindenburg—Zwan. Thankfully for Corganites left bewildered by Mary Star of the Sea, it becomes clear after the first few songs that The Future Embrace is markedly better than its predecessor.

Right away, Corgan addresses Mary’s most embarrassing flaws. He’s spared us from having to listen to grade school valentines like “Honestly” without reverting to the Pumpkins-era angst that caused the whole world to turn against him sometime in 1997. His lyrics still deal primarily with the thrills of falling in love, but read far more poetically, avoiding the opacity from Mary that immediately recalled the theme song from Barney and Friends.

And the music is vastly improved, too. Instead of coercing a band full of indie all-stars into sounding like Nine Days, Corgan returns to taking care of things largely by himself. The electronic sound of The Future Embrace practically demands that people compare it to Adore, but the actual production of the songs bears more resemblance to MACHINA, as Corgan performs many of the same aural tricks found on the Pumpkins’ last commercial gasp. The most notable sonic similarities can be found between “Sorrows (In Blue)” and “Blue Skies Bring Tears.”

Each of the first three songs re-establish Corgan’s solo career as a worthy endeavor. “All Things Change” sets The Future Embrace’s tone beautifully, introducing the gripping, hollowed-out synths that carry the album. Corgan sings softly but pointedly, commanding the listener’s attention without being overbearing. “Mina Loy (M.O.H.)” is slightly darker and heavier, sounding like something right off of MACHINA II. And “The CameraEye” uses a Radiohead-referencing guitar line to lead its verses into one of the album’s best choruses. “To Love Somebody,” a failed Bee Gees cover thanks to its exhausting chorus, is the first hiccup, but Corgan rebounds nicely with “A100.”

The Future Embrace’s second half isn’t quite as strong as its first. “Now (And Then)” is the requisite slow song that ends up leaving little impact despite Corgan’s intricate guitar-work. It’s followed by “I’m Ready,” which contains the album’s blandest lyrics. What remains are a series of minor musical and lyrical experiments that should be taken at face value.

In the end, the principal statement made by The Future Embrace isn’t as concrete as the love-centric lyrics would suggest. As an artist, Corgan is still finding himself – an unexciting but truthful revelation. No longer interested in howling outward screams of pain and desperation (indeed, as with Mary, Corgan refrains from howling at all), he continues to carve himself a brighter path toward artistic fulfillment, only the path is less definitive; The Future Embrace lacks the same powerful avowals found on the Pumpkins’ best albums. That Corgan has shifted his emotional focus is not necessarily to be criticized, but overall, his post-Pumpkins output still leaves something to be desired. Thankfully, significant progress has been made. What The Future Embrace lacks in terms of consistency, it makes up for with the feeling that Corgan has turned a corner, that his return to musical credibility is well underway, and isn’t nearly as inconceivable as it was one year ago.