Solo albums may be a harmless way for brand name band members to blow off a little creative steam with material that doesn’t fit the established format, but they are too often the recording industry’s answer to vanity press books. Roger Taylor, the able veteran drummer for Queen, has issued his first such effort, and the results are predictably self-indulgent. The work is a hodgepodge of cosmic themes and futuristic-sounding synthesizers, guitars and percussion. The collection has momentary charms, like the revealing cynicism of a song called Interlude in Constantinople: “We really hope the dope’ll/Make you clap/At all that crap/That you’ve been sold.” It would take an epidemic of delusion to make this product appealing. Taylor ought to skulk quietly back to his career as 25 percent of the reigning monarchy of English pop malarkey.