Bryan Ferry's immaculate poise is a constant in his career. It's an audible part of his persona, from his early incarnation as Roxy Music's resident lounge lizard, dispensing imaginative rock with meticulous care, through his strident, sax-and-orchestra solo hits and onwards to the pristine suits, subtle Latin percussion and sophistication of his mature later releases. His voice is a leaping fish of a thing, one moment arch and cold, the next whispery and confessional or eruptive and bleating, as if his emotions have burst unbidden out of that elegant frame.