Standing head, shoulders and probably chest over half the industry, Montell Jordan is an enigma, wrapped in a puzzle, smothered in secret sauce. On one hand, he's a classically trained pianist and vocalist, possessed of incredible vocal control and range as well as a strong gift for conveying passion and intensity. On the other hand, he's the primarily fluffy front man for Russell Simmons' R&B aspirations, six feet and eight inches of party man cranking out meaningless dance hits with as much resonance as the inside of Colt 45 cans downed at a Kappa party. On his third album, Let's Ride, he shows some carefully guarded growth as a recording artist, finally reaching a small sense of balance between the powerhouse singer some close to him swear he is and the radio-ready chart climber the label would probably prefer.

There are immediate artistic concerns - the inclusion of Master P on not only the album's title cut, but its oddly placed (2/3 of the way through the CD instead of the customary last song) remix resonates in the numerous times the now ubiquitous phrase "bout it bout it" appears through the album, a little odd looking at Jordan's laid back Southern California roots. There are gospel moments, such as the choir-laden "You" and "I Say Yes" (also done as a nearly song-length interlude on album numero dos, More), that are like repentant pit stops from all the bumping, grinding, cheating and screwing around that the rest of the album seems to promote - odd and out of place, even as you appreciate their strengths.

Then again, there are shining points well worthy of note. The gentle strings and frankly scandalous storytelling of "Don't Call Me" are an instant winner. The committment minded "The Longest Night" is both tender and enjoyable (definitely more ballads, Mont) even while its hollow keyboard line does grate a bit. The Earth, Wind and Fire-inspired "Body-ah" is a pleasant piece of ear candy, and you can sense the beginnings of Jordan's true vocal prowess in the tender "Can I?"

Between the two extremes are indifferent pieces of album filler like "Irresistible" and "Anything & Everything." Fortunately, no irritating anthems like More's "Bounce 2 This" or the heavily overplayed "This Is How We Do It," but - alas - also no breakaway hits like the Slick Rick laced "I Like" (though the Marvin Gaye sample-driven "When You Get Home" comes damned close). Overall, one is forced to look at Jordan and wonder exactly what is going on. His commitment to Christianity is evident if oddly placed, his desire to be a raunchy loverman seems forced and contrary to the sometimes strong voice of the singer he probably truly is. Come on, Russell - back off the man and let him sing, true and clear, and perhaps he can join the pseudo-renaissance of R&B that has been going on lately. Like he knows he can ...