Across the closing quartet of tracks particularly, Kurtel switches styles and builds textural interest with a rare adroitness. "Wake Me Up" with crooners Pillow Talk is sparse blue-eyed soul, all bleeps, clip-clop percussion and a two-note, lo-fi acoustic guitar riff, reminiscent of Sign "O" The Times-era Prince. "Blackness" is limpid, late-night digital-pop, as close as Kurtel comes to reprising the introspective house music of her debut, the track raised a notch by her consistently clear, luminous production. "Thunder Clap" with Voices of Black is like an updated Art Of Noise, all faux-naif sampling, while closing track, "The Beat Drops" with Tanner Ross and Jules Born, could, through its incessant bassline, retro drum machines and cheeky jazz samples, be an early, if unusually subtle, Skint Records big beat track.
Elsewhere, The Way We Live is more mixed. Opener "I Knew This Would Happen" is flat; the Kenny Glasgow-featuring "Don't Wanna Be" isn't wildly different, lacking the emotional heft of his best Art Department work. "Safe Word" doesn't work: a light S&M interlude with Soul Clap and Navid Izad, it's a weak joke that (20 years after Club 69's "Let Me Be Your Underwear") doesn't bear repeating.
Disposable Hero of Hiphoprisy Michael Franti's stentorian tones sound good on "Right On," although his references to police brutality jar in this otherwise lighter context. The slippery and atmospheric "Hypocrite" or the coquettish, cosmic synth fandango "Love Triangle" are more where Kurtel is currently at. After the finely-wrought Music Watching Over Me, this is a more playful work. But one that certainly maintains interest as to what Kurtel will do next.