Despite Hugh Laurie's considerable musicianship and his renowned passion for the blues, Let Them Talk remains merely an extremely accomplished imitation of a genre locked within its history. Laurie is openly trespassing on the musical emancipation of the Deep South, culturally rooted in African-American spirituals of the early twentieth century. His own roots could not be further removed, moving from Eton to Cambridge to an easy and auspicious career. His flawless performance as 'House' has made him the most highly paid actor in America, an almost unbelievable fact, and the tone of this album is a little reminiscent of that character's gruff exterior. However, lingering in the back of our minds remains the blithering Bertie Wooster and his quintessential English accent. That image is inescapable, and the thought of him “holdin' his trunks down to Tennessee” rings ludicrously false.

Heavily stylised; the polyphonic layers of the opening track  - St. James' Infirmary – fail to create any meaningful depth, and the track strays into uninspiring muzak territory. Laurie's voice is interesting, but has little power or foundation; a fact thrown into sharper relief by Tom Jones' unmistakable abilities on Baby Please Make A Change. It is clear how well Laurie understands the blues, but his purist admiration traps him in an attentive simulation of the music, devoid of any originality. This is most apparent during Swanee River, wherein Laurie's strategic laughter and humming adds a calculating, rather than an authentic feel. He makes all the right noises at all the right times, but it just doesn't ring true and makes the music all the more hollow. Saving the best until last, the album's eponymous track has a sweeter, unpretentious quality that redeems a significant portion of the preceding songs.

This album doesn't contribute anything new to the blues genre, or take it somewhere different; and thus is more a personal indulgence for Laurie to play the sort of music he loves, in an unadulterated tribute-style homage. This is not necessarily a reason not to produce an album of this type, nor a reason not to listen to it – it's pleasing to hear; the tracks read well together; but this is more like something he can do; something to tick off his bucket list. To use a cliché, it has no soul, and hence the music lacks truth. It's a clean sound, nicely arranged, but is too polished; too tightly controlled; totally lacking the raw grittiness and growl of the real masters – Willie Nix, Memphis Minnie, and of course the great B.B. King. Do listen; by all means enjoy; but if you want the real deal – listen to his influences, not his output.