A lot of albums kick off with the killer track. Some even manage a cool one-two punch. Missy Elliott's third record, on the other hand, opens with a six-track attack that's rare for any genre, especially contemporary R&B.; I find it hard to believe I'm only a third of the way into the record when this first-rate succession ends. But even with this initial run of excellence, So Addictive has much more in store.

Elliott makes good on her intro's promise of "some shit that you never heard before." A range of beats-- from the minimal funk of "Dog in Heat" to the demented tabla of the single, "Get Ur Freak On"-- are punctuated by wild vocal pyrotechnics and tempered by soulful crooning. In fact, there's more singing on this record than rap. Elliott's low, throaty moans, aerial cooing, and delicious screams demonstrate tremendous restraint and control. In "I've Changed (Interlude)," she rightly berates Lil' Mo for suggesting she sings like "she's in church trying to raise money for choir robes."

"Dog in Heat" starts as a simple lowdown funk track, building gradually upon a simple bass riff and drum thunk. Elliott piles layers of vocals atop Timbaland's multiplying strings and rattles, and eventually veers off into an entirely new direction at the song's end. Redman and Method Man also provide raps, adding comic relief and charisma. Elsewhere, Missy harmonizes with herself on "One Minute Man," again keeping the beat simple under a squeaking synthesizer hook, and this time allowing Ludacris to reprise the record's freak-getting-on theme by promising not a mere pit stop, but a full night's stay at Casa de Intercourse.

Missy finally breaks out the rap on "Lick Shots," twisting her voice around a Southern/Martian accent. "Y'all don't HEAR me/ You've got your guns but you don't SCEEER me/ BRRRRAAGHH!" The crazy phrasings and vocal eruptions that dominate this album are introduced here, and then let loose in the anthemic "Get Ur Freak On," where they halt beats and maneuver labyrinthine rhythm structures like "Lexus Jeeps." Its hook features the sort of Eastern percussion that runs rampant on Top 40 radio, but rarely is it used so effectively. Timbaland's technique is undeniably masterful, too, as he plays with meter, dynamics and expectations, allowing Missy to stopping to spit "HOLLA!" and "Shhh..." over surreal stillness and silence.

"Scream AKA Itchin'" shakes its maraca under some prickles of shrill synths while Elliott details a sexual encounter. Rapid-fire rhyme quatrains and triplets spew forth, punctuated by screams like something the Bomb Squad used to blast for Public Enemy. "Old School Joint" comes along to "flip the beat," keeping So Addictive stylistically varied while pushing dance music to euphoric heights. Its "flashlight" and "neon light" references seem to pay homage to P Funk, but rather than mimicking the seminal funk stars, Missy integrates a heavier disco sound, creating something fresh out of an otherwise tired influence. "Take Away," though, attempts to update early Prince ballads, and instead reveals how those slow R&B; jams depended on The Artist's histrionics to carry the song. And despite having already proven herself more than capable of similar theatricalities, she relies on played-out vocoder, and irrationally allows Ginuwine to dumb things down with "sensitive" crooning.

So Addictive is further held back by sporadic low points during its second half. Not even reversed cymbals, snazzy rim shots and processed soul girl harmonies can distract from the fact that neither "Step Off" nor "X-tasy" actually go anywhere. Also guilty are the superfluous remix of "One Minute Man," featuring Jay-Z, and a religious bonus track that has its mind, and length, set on eternity.

Still, there are three absolutely killer songs on So Addictive's second half. "4 My People" features Missy at her most sincere, begging, "Put the needle on the track/ Skip that, flip that, bring the beat back." "Slap Slap Slap" is both ferocious and psychedelic, with a backwards guitar and some fierce guest turns by Da Brat and Jade. And, after a pointless but impressive Busta Rhymes interlude, "Watcha Gon' Do" rolls through with Timbaland's guttural rap and a rumbling beat that loops around itself like a perpetual motion machine set on accelerate. Synthesizers hiss like hydraulic pistons and hover like boomerangs while background guitar sounds wail like ghost cats in heat.

Of course, to say Miss E is addictive is pushing it. Sure, I'm having a great time experimenting with this stuff right now. But I can stop any time I want.

-Dan Kilian