3 Colours Red

Aerosmith

Aerosmith Nominated for a 1998 Grammy award for Best Rock Album and featuring the single, "Falling in Love (Is Hard on the Knees)," nominated for a Best Rock Performance, Nine Lives is Aerosmith's first album in their lucrative re-signing to Columbia Records. Together over 25 years, the Boston band has always been known for their gritty sex anthems, hard-buckling rhythms, and bic-flicking power ballads. Not nearly as flat-out rock as previous releases, Pump or Get A Grip, Nine Lives experiments with a multitude of instruments, including hammered dulcimer, Indian fiddle, and Chapman stick. This Noah's Ark approach allows the band to experiment within its rock parameters with the appropriately titled "A Taste of India." They haven't sworn off the ballads ("Fallen Angels" is what you'd expect) and they still riff like the Aerosmith of old ("Crash"). —Rob O'Connor

Aerosmith

All Saints All girl, all singing and all dancing quartet Shaz, Mel, Nic and Nat's debut album could easily be repackaged today as a Greatest Hits collection. This is no bad thing. It features six of the sassy ladeez hit singles "Never Ever", "Bootie Call", "I Know Where It's At", "Under the Bridge", "Lady Marmalade" and "War of Nerves". The girls fuse all the best bits from swing, soul and disco, flex their vocal chords and chorus flawless harmonies to deliver perfect pop songs, with production from Nellee Hooper (Bjork/ Madonna/ Soul II Soul), Cameron McVey (Neneh Cherry/ Massive Attack) and UK R&B stalwart Karl 'KG' Gordon. From the band's finest hour (the Shangri-Las-esque talking at the beginning of "Never Ever") to the sheer dirtiness of Shaznay's laugh on "Beg", All Saints is a bag of finger clickin' pop hits. —Ronita Dutta

Apollo 440

Ash Same as Us Release.

Ash Tim Wheeler is a young songwriter who loves the themes of summer and girls almost as much as the young Brian Wilson did. The difference is Wheeler grew up in Downpatrick, Northern Ireland, instead of Southern California. Nevertheless, Free All Angelskicks off with the refrain "We've been walking barefoot all summer," continuing Ash's tradition of what Wheeler has termed "North Irish surf punk." The band have matured since the release of their last couple studio albums, 1977(named for the year several band members were born, as well as the musical era the album emulated) and the more rock-heavy Nu-Clear Sounds(which often out-Stroked the Strokes), but they still deliver a sonic summer pop-rock delight here. "Candy" unashamedly samples Scott Walker's version of Burt Bacharach's "Make It Easy on Yourself," and Ash's pop culture references also include the Buzzcocks, John Barry, Phil Spector, Nirvana, T. Rex, Dr. Dre, and the Jesus and Mary Chain, to name only a few. "Pacific Palisades" (which name-checks Brian Wilson and all things Beach Boys) is almost self-explanatory, title alone, while the delicious "Shining Light"—a huge hit in the U.K.—should warm its way into the hearts of all guitar-based power-punk-pop aficionados after only several listens. —Bill Holdship

Ash Intergalactic Sonic 7"s, which arrives hot on the heels of their blistering "Burn Baby Burn" success, confirms what everyone knew already—Ash are a great singles band. It's amazing how often they pull off a perfect three minutes—even though just teenagers at the time of their debut. Witness the bittersweet memories of "Girl From Mars", the rain-lashed, drunken teenage love of "Goldfinger" through the glorious adolescence of "Oh Yeah" (and who hasn't experienced that hormonal surging as "her hair came undone in my hands"?). Compiling a standard tracklisting would always be a hideous undertaking, hence the proud emergence of this 19 track beast instead.

The Free All Angels singles continue this remarkable tradition, best demonstrated in "Sometimes", a song as close to perfection as possible that—along with "Shining Light", "Burn Baby Burn" and "Walking Barefoot" (not actually a single, but one that should have been)—show the maturity in Wheeler's songwriting and musicianship that resurrected his band from the edge of disaster after the fallout from the non-conforming Nu-Clear Sounds. Token new track "Envy" seems pale in comparison, largely due to the quality of Free All Angels material, but at least the grimy New York gutter riffage of the swaggering "Jesus Says" and summertime exuberance of "Wildsurf" are given the air they need here. Also present is the much-underrated but indispensable "A Life Less Ordinary", finally in a place that it deserves along with some earlier efforts ("Petrol") that perhaps are not. Ash are what teenagers with guitars should sound like, because teenage boys care about girls and getting wasted, not becoming victims of conformity. —Ben Johncock

Audioslave The debut of thundering supergroup Audioslave—featuring members of Rage Against the Machine post-Zack de la Rocha with ex-Soundgarden singer Chris Cornell—is as much curio as fascinating blend of visions. Cornell might be outnumbered, but his unmistakable holler and nihilistic imagery ensure that Audioslave, the album, recalls early Soundgarden. That's especially true since de la Rocha took Rage's signature rap and politicking with him. Still, if this is Soundgarden, it's Soundgarden set to stun. Rage guitarist Tom Morello is more of a mauler than Kim Thayil ever was—witness "Shadow on the Sun", which moves from bruising thud to psychedelic freak-out and back again—while the Rage rhythm section of Tim Commerford and Brad Wilk anchor the bottom end with pure instrumental cement. Intentionally or not, "Gasoline" bears passing resemblance to "Rusty Cage", while the sweeping "I Am the Highway" and slow-burning "The Last Remaining Light" best showcase Cornell's surprisingly New Age-y lyrical bent. Cover art by Storm Thorgerson—who gave Pink Floyd records their distinctive stamp—underscores the set's inherent celebrity. Fans of Rage and Soundgarden can raise clenched fists in unison, for Audioslave is win-win. —Kim Hughes

Badly Drawn Boy What's a budding musical genius to do in the pent-up lull between albums? Mercury Prize-winning singer-songwriter Badly Drawn Boy (nee Damon Gough), in his spare time between heralded debut THE HOUR OF BEWILDERBEEST, and a follow-up to be released later in 2002, approached the filmmakers adapting Nick Hornby's acclaimed novel ABOUT A BOY about the soundtrack for the film starring Hugh Grant. There's no question to the logic of the combination as Gough's sublimely literate, disaffected yet still charmingly breezy pop music fits the story of life's apparent losers at two stages of life, one an apathetic womanizer approaching his 40s, the other a bullied misfit boy passing into his teens, between whom an unlikely friendship ensues. A folky singer/songwriter scoring songs to help set the tone of a movie about unlikely friendship could stir up memories of Cat Stevens's unreleased soundtrack for "Harold & Maude," a fair enough assessment. In a similar fashion (but in its own way), Badly Drawn Boy's take on ABOUT A BOY weaves a mournful, yet upbeat tapestry drawing from its source material while managing to enrich the story itself. There are even some pop megahit hooks such as in the rolling "Silent Sigh" and in the head-bobbing, ostensible theme song "Something To Talk About."

Badly Drawn Boy It's hard to remember, listening to Have You Fed the Fish, that Badly Drawn Boy was once derided as lo-fi. On Damon Gough's third album, everything is writ large, his wobbly and whimsical songs transformed into bombastic epics. Finally, his much-vaunted Springsteen obsession starts making sense. For this is Gough's LA record, an extravagant conceit that really shouldn't work but, more often than not, does. Essentially, it's big music about simple things, love letters from California back home to his wife in Manchester. So when he tackles the sweet mundanities of domestic life on the title track, he plasters sentiments usually found on post-it notes across 40-foot billboards. The results are oddly moving, especially on "You Were Right", where dreams of a love triangle with Madonna and the Queen and memories of various celebrity deaths become a meditation on not taking anything for granted. Frequently, it's absurd, too: especially the crotchety funk of "Using Our Feet" and the Nilsson-ish Vaudeville of "Tickets to What You Need". Beware, though, because the grandiose production makes Gough's customarily fine songs not quite as accessible as usual—a few listens are needed before their charms cut through the flash. —John Mulvey

Badly Drawn Boy In 2000, the techno-folk troubadour Damon Gough, a.k.a. Badly Drawn Boy, won the U.K.-based Mercury Music Prize, Brit-pop's blue ribbon award. His first full-length, The Hour of Bewilderbeast, is a song cycle relaying the life span of a romantic relationship with dry lyrical humor, soft-touch acoustic strumming, mellow horns, and gossamer strings. Repeated listenings are required, but like a down pillow, as your head sinks into this album, its warm comforts and rewards reveal themselves deep within a melodic cushion. —Beth Massa

Barry White

Beach Boys

Beatles Proving yet again their willingness to dice 'n' slice their burgeoning legacy into new—if not exactly fresh—product, the Fab Four Minus One released this single disc compendium of their No. 1 hits. Though obviously superfluous to long-time Fabs faithful (who may also find themselves quibbling over the precise definition of "No. 1 hit" and the exclusion of seeming contenders like "Please Please Me" and "Strawberry Fields"), newly arrived visitors from the Pleiades star cluster and other neophytes will find it a concise and generous (nearly 80 minutes) single-disc introduction to the band's career-spanning, unparalleled dominance of pop music in the 1960s and beyond. But more than merely a trophy case of commercial success (and it won't be hard to find people to argue that these singles aren't even the band's best work), 1is also a quick sketch of a remarkable seven-year musical evolution, one that stretches from the neo-skiffle of "Love Me Do" through a remarkable synthesis of R&B, rockabilly, Tin Pan Alley, gospel, country and classical that still defies efforts to effectively deconstruct it. —Jerry McCulley

Beatles The closest the Beatles came to a greatest hits package, this document of the early part of their career features hit singles (in chronological order) and selected album tracks, running from "Love Me Do" through the groundbreaking Rubber Souland Revolveralbums. While this may be an excellent intro for beginners, real fans will never be content with only selections, especially when you're dealing with those aforementioned albums. Capitol packages the collection on two discs, copying the original vinyl version—but, of course, CDs hold more music than records did. Still, you do get 26 bona fide classics, so there's no real need to complain. —Bill Holdship

Beatles Even as the Beatles began heading toward an inevitable break-up, their prolific ways continued; this two-disc look back only skims the surface of their later achievements. Excerpts from Sgt. Pepper, Magical Mystery Tour, the white album, Abbey Road, and Let It Be compete for space with classic singles that do as much or more to prove their eclecticism: the epic ballad "Hey Jude", the plaintive "Strawberry Fields Forever", straight rock & roll of all stripes from the plainspoken "Revolution" and "Get Back" to the surreal "Come Together". Decades after the split, this (and its companion set of 1962-1966 cuts) remains a favoured introduction for young listeners and a key sampler for veteran fans. —Rickey Wright

Beatles How much better, you could be forgiven for wondering, could Let It Bebe? The answer, perhaps surprisingly, is "a bit". Let It Be, while obviously better than almost everything ever recorded by anyone else, was compromised by the fact that the Beatles were disintegrating as a unit during the recording sessions, the rancour most famously illustrated by John Lennon calling in Phil Spector behind Paul McCartney's back to rework "The Long and Winding Road". Let It Be... Naked, then, is the album as the Beatles would have heard it while they were making it.

The tracklisting on this version of Let It Bediffers slightly from the original—there—there's no "Maggie Mae" or "Dig It", while "Don't Let Me Down" has been added. The rest of the songs, shorn of Spector's decorative flourishes, confirm that although the Beatles were having occasional difficulty speaking to each other during these sessions, there was no problem about playing together. The only two minor quibbles are that "The Long and Winding Road" is still McCartney at his most saccharine, and that any Beatles version of "Across the Universe" is never going to hold a candle to that by Laibach. —Andrew Mueller

The Beatles The Beatles' last days as a band were as productive as any major pop phenomenon that was about to split. After recording the ragged-but-right Let It Be, the group held on for this ambitious effort, an album that was to become their best-selling. Though all four contribute to the first side's writing, John Lennon's hard-rocking, "Come Together" and "I Want You (She's So Heavy)" make the strongest impression. A series of song fragments edited together in suite form dominates side two; its portentous, touching, official close ("Golden Slumbers" / "Carry That Weight" / "The End") is nicely undercut, in typical Beatles fashion, by Paul McCartney's cheeky "Her Majesty", which follows. —Rickey Wright

The Beatles Banged out in a hurry for the 1964 Christmas market, Beatles for Salesometimes sounds it, loaded with ill-conceived covers and some of John Lennon's most self-loathing lyrics. On the other hand, the people doing the banging-out were the Beatles, whose instincts for what worked musically were so strong that they could basically do no wrong—any record that has "Baby's in Black", "I Don't Want to Spoil the Party" and the delectable "Eight Days a Week" on it is only "minor" in the most relative sense. And, though their voices had been frazzled a bit by constant touring, they revved them up for some joyous shouting, and indulged their fondness for American country in subtle, playful ways. —Douglas Wolk

The Beatles The White Album was meant to be the record that brought the Beatles back to earth after three years of studio experimentation. Instead, it took them all over the place, continuing to burst the envelope of pop music. Lennon and McCartney were still at the height of their songwriting powers, with Lennon in particular growing into one of music's towering figures. But even McCartney could still rock, and the amazement on "Helter Skelter" was that he had vocal cords at the end. From Beach Boys knock-offs to reggae and to the unknown ("Revolution #9 "), this has it all. Some records have "legend" written all over them; this is one. —Chris Nickson

The Beatles Their first-ever album, Please Please Meis raw and rough and still very rock & roll. Having already scored two hits when this appeared, Lennon and McCartney were only just beginning to flex their writing muscles and so relied heavily on the cover material to see them through. Their insecurity about their own abilities seems curious in hindsight since they'd pulled the title song and "I Saw Her Standing There" (with thanks to Little Richard) out of their hats. But they were an unknown quantity, still to launch a million bands and take pop music to places it had never dreamed off. A small step for four men, a giant leap for music. —Chris Nickson

The Beatles There are only three stories worth knowing from the last 2,000 years of history: the life of Mohammed, the life of Jesus and the career of The Beatles. They invented all music ever. John was the best one; but Paul is—despite the knighthood and everything—still the most under-rated songwriter of the 20th century. This is the album with "Eleanor Rigby", "Here, There and Everywhere", "For No One", "I'm Only Sleeping" and "Tomorrow Never Knows" on it—but then, you knew that anyway. We presume you have this album already and you're just getting a second copy in case you lose the first. —Caitlan Moran

The Beatles Before Sgt. Pepper's, no one seriously thought of rock music as actual art. That all changed in 1967, though, when John, Paul, George and Ringo (with "A Little Help" from their friend, producer George Martin) created an undeniable work of art which remains, after 3-plus decades, one of the most influential albums of all time. From Lennon's evocative word/sound pictures (the trippy "Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds", the carnival-like "Being for the Benefit of Mr. Kite") and McCartney's music hall-styled "When I'm 64", to Harrison's Eastern-leaning "Within You Without You", and the avant-garde mini-suite, "A Day in the Life", Sgt. Pepper'swas a milestone for both 1960s music and popular culture in general. —Billy Altman

Belinda Carlisle

Bell X1

Beverley Knight

blink-182 Digitally remixed & remastered reissue of their 1993 debut, previously only available on cassette. Some of these tracks were re-recorded for their albums 'Cheshire Cat'&'Dude Ranch', and some have never been released at all, including a cover of Screeching Weasel's 'The Girl Next Door'. 14 tracks on this 1998 Kung Fu Records release.

blink-182 Terrific sales of their independent Cheshire Catgot Blink-182 signed to a major label (MCA) for 1997's Dude Ranch, which led to radio hits ("Dammit,""Josie") and platinum sales. No "sell-out" on the band's part, though, as Dude Ranchsimply features another infectious collection of snotty vocals, punchy rhythms, vivid lyrics, and aggressive chords. San Diego producer Mark Trombino shines some of the scuffed edges, but this is still good ol' Blink at its sunny, effervescent best. Nice "emocore" spoof here ("Emo"), plus an odd knack for crafting bass-lines that recall—seriously!—New Order, and vocal harmonies that owe debts to the Beach Boys. —Mark Woodlief

blink-182 On their 1997 release, Dude Ranch, juvenile hardcore-pop band Blink 182 tickled the funny bone with an assortment of dumb sex jokes, off-color artwork, and between-song skits, including one of a dog drinking from a freshly peed in toilet. So, two years down the road, have the band matured at all? One look at the cover of Enema of the State, which features cover art of a tarted-up blonde nurse donning a rubber glove, provides the easy answer. Fortunately, Enemasupports the humor with strong musicianship. The songs are more dynamic and multitempoed than those on Dude Ranch, sounding like a cross between the Descendents and Fountains of Wayne. And unlike the glut of alt-rock releases that offer one or two memorable songs, Enemais flush with instantly memorable melodies and ear-pleasing harmonies. Good, dirty fun—no more, no less. —Jon Wiederhorn

blink-182 Their formula is simple enough—equal parts teenage humor and brattiness combined with infectious guitar hooks that just beg to be cranked up on the stereo. But with Take Off Your Pants and Jacket, the guys in Blink 182 may have delivered their best album to date, a punk-pop fusion that's so consistent you'll wonder which of the 13 tracks will become radio hits (any has the chance, really). Yes, as with Dude Ranchand Enema of the State, the songs here revolve around falling in love ("The Rock Show,""First Date"), falling out of love ("Online Songs,""Happy Holidays, You Bastard"), and plenty of other ways to kill time while away from school ("Reckless Abandon"). And yes, these guitar-driven songs all pretty much sound the same, but Take Offnever gets boring. There's too much nervous energy here, too many slight variations in the arrangements, and too many hilarious lyrics that you won't want to miss. Parents may remember that the Buzzcocks used this same shtick in the late '70s, older siblings may remember that Green Day did it well not so many years ago, but Blink fans know that their band is more clever than anyone else playing today. The bonus tracks are throwaways, but that's OK—the threesome have given us plenty to bop our heads to here. —Jason Verlinde

blink-182 Blink 182 Punk rock is meant to be played loud and snotty. Blink 182 are a San Diego punk rock threesome whose interest in arrested development has led them to a sparkling array of sex jokes that cover everything from anal sex to masturbation to... Well, you get the idea—and that's just the between-song banter. This limited-edition live collection—a holding pattern until the band's fifth studio album is released in 2001—features a slam-dunk collection of the band's hits, fan favorites from their various studio albums, and new tunes ("Blew Job" among the enlightened tracks). One additional studio track, "Man Overboard" (already a hit on a radio near you), packs a harder punch than most, thanks to the studio finesse. But mostly these are revved-up versions of songs to break a skateboard by. With the added appeal of a color booklet and about seven minutes of "stage banter" tacked on at the end, guaranteed to either leave you in stitches or have you grounded for a month. —Rob O'Connor

The Bloodhound Gang Sophomoric but occasionally amusing, the Bloodhound Gang's third outing serves up a dash of Cake, a sprinkling of Blink 182, and heavy doses of metal, hip-hop, and techno. And that's not even mentioning the Pink Floyd rip and Falco sample! Underneath the juvenile, jokey lyrics ("It's hard to rhyme a word like vagina") and cheap chortles (the faux-country "A Lap Dance Is So Much Better When the Stripper Is Crying" being one prime example) are a few memorable melodies. "The Bad Touch" is a catchy, sample-heavy, danceable sex song that name-checks numerous pop-culture touchstones, from Waffle House to the Discovery Channel. Metallica and Frankie Goes to Hollywood samples meld in the rap-metal "Mope." An ode to adult film actress Chasey Lain is yet another perverse novelty entry on this schtick-a-song offering. Yes, there are some guilty chuckles to be found here, but ultimately this 18-track outing is only truly titillating if you're 12—or act like you are. —Katherine Turman

The Bloodhound Gang White rappers generally divide into two camps: the Beastie Boys disciples and the House of Pain clique. For the former, honky hip-hop has nothing to do with the African-American experiences that gave birth to the rap form; rather, it is borrowed to express the middle-class, often suburban, ennui that comes from too much pop culture and too much time on one's hands. In the latter, groups attempt to co-opt the Afrocentrism and identity worship from black rap and use it as a template for their own particular ethnic trumpeting—Irish, in HOP's case. On their debut album, Use Your Fingers, Bloodhound Gang make it clear which group they expect to be confused with: "No, I'm not the guy from the Beastie Boys!" yells Jimmy Pop (or is it his partner Daddy Long Legs?). Hailing from suburban Philadelphia, BG are a self-contained frat party dying to offend anyone who'll listen with their often hilarious, in-your-face political incorrectness. They fight for their right to be moronic throughout—whether worshiping Rip Taylor or invoking the Cavity Creeps from an old toothpaste ad. It's not all just fat-chick and cripple jokes, though: BG back up their obnoxious idiocy with some fairly wise musical maneuvering. While their age and background lead them to repeatedly mine the '80s for material—Duran Duran and Cure samples, Michael Jackson and Blondie interpolations, a "Kids in America" cover—their sly comments and ingenious a cappella snippets prove they're surprisingly sharp and able lads. —Roni Sarig

Blur Scanning the tracklisting of Blur's greatest hits album it's hard not to reach the conclusion that the band are a little embarrassed by their earlier and even mid-career work. Opening with the chart one-two of "Beetlebum" and "Song 2" (from their eponymous creative watershed album of 1997) rather than the baggy groove of debut single "She's So High", the band's desire to accentuate their more recent efforts is obvious. Running order aside, it's hard to fault the 18 tracks which chart the life and times of one of the country's smartest, most inventive bands. From the tuxedoed ballad "The Universal", through cartoon Britpoppery of numbers like "Parklife" and "Country House" to the freshly recorded indie-isms of single "Music Is My Radar", their searching intelligence, deft hooks and willingness to sweep the board are never less than admirable. —Mike Pattenden

Blur

Blur Although Blur had long been recognised as one of the premier bands responsible for the reinvigoration of Britpop in the 1990s, it's 1994's Parklifethat truly provided the template for the entire movement. At a time when Oasis were aping the sounds of their pub-rock heroes on Definitely Maybe, Blur drew from the legacy of the Kinks and Small Faces to create an album that's as English as a rainy Sunday in front of the gas fire. Parklifeis full of songs that, quite frankly, don't make much sense outside of the British Isles, songs that find joy in the mundane, like "Girls & Boys" (a song about working-class holidaymakers in the sun) and "Parklife" (a day in the life of a cheeky, unemployed bench-sitter). Witty, ironic and irreverent, Parkliferemains one of those rare albums that sum up a specific place and time (Britain in the mid-1990s). For that reason alone, it can be considered one of Blur's finest albums. —Robert Burrow

Blur Think Tankwas an emotional experience for Blur, with reports of problems—not least the exit of founding member Graham Coxon half way through recording. With that in mind you might expect the end product to be a mess. In the event, although Think Tank, like its predecessor, is a hotchpotch of ideas, it is a cohesive album.

After the brash pop of Damon Albarn's Gorillaz side-project and the overtly emotional 13, this is a soulful and subtle affair. There are a couple of classic Blur rock moments here: "Crazy Beat" is cut from the same cloth as the pogo-ing classic "Song 2", while the painfully short but brilliant "We've Got a File on You" sounds like agitprop punkers Crass in a fight with a Moroccan snake charmer.

But while Damon Albarn still has an ear for a melody, Blur sound like a different band without Coxon's guitars to subvert them. Morocco and Damon's Mali Musichave changed Blur. "Caravan" uses a sleepy rhythm that plods at a camel's pace, while "Gene by Gene" employs cross rhythms evoking images of the desert and sound textures from unorthodox sources. Blur are now using sounds to create their music rather than the standard rock line up. For some fans it may be one evolution too far, but for fans who appreciate them as they are—a band that refuses to stay still—Think Tankshould be an interesting listen. —Caroline Butler

Bob Dylan

Bob Marley and the Wailers Even as greatest hits packages go, Legend is an utter gem. Every song is inspired, in a class of its own, whether the real version of "I Shot the Sheriff", the hymnlike "No Woman, No Cry" or the sheer joy of "Jamming". Even allowing that Marley never wrote any bad material, Legend is still the crème de la crème, the heart and soul of the Jamaican people packed into one five-inch compact disc. He was unique and the message of this record, more than any other, is that he died far too soon. —Chris Nickson

Bush Golden State, Bush's fourth album, is their strongest to date. This record gleams with power and purpose, as well it should. Bush have been slogging their way around the toilets, arenas and stadia of the world for a decade now: they may be orthodox, but they wield a thrilling control over rock's tensions and dynamics. In "Solutions", "Superman", "Fugitive" and "Reasons", Golden State boasts four exemplary alternative rock anthems that any band would be proud to own. There are no weak tracks, no fillers. Gavin Rossdale sounds anguished and driven, and his band is a fantastic, febrile unit. So, did the early, embryonic Bush begin their career copying Nirvana? Who cares? Golden State is a rich, resourceful record from a band near their peak. —Ian Gittins

Bush It's hard to deny that "Swallowed"—the first single from Bush's difficult second album Razorblade Suitcase—has a way with a rousing, seismic chorus. It's just a shame that the same dynamics were born with Husker Du, minted by The Pixies, and perfected by Nirvana while Bush were still gigging their way around London's fleapits, waiting for their big break. No, Razorblade Suitcase—like Bush's debut, Sixteen Stone—isn—isn't actually that bad. It's just perplexing to see a band this successful make a career out of stepping in other band's footsteps. Steve Albini, producer of Razorblade Suitcase does his erstwhile best to pervert Bush's radio-clean grunge, as on "Insect Kin"—but as he was the producer of Nirvana's In Utero, you can't help but feel that Razorblade Suitcase apes that record's fractured angst as surely as Sixteen Stone crept in on the tail of Nevermind. —Louis Pattison

Bush

BUSH

Bush

The Cardigans

The Cardigans Until now, the Swedish group the Cardigans were easily identified by their sunny, pop-friendly, melodic releases. Fearing being typecast as an act fluffier than a Nordic lamb, the band decided to head farther north for the winter. With Gran Turismo, their fifth release, you'll need your favorite, um, sweater, because the season has turned, the atmosphere is frosty, and, indeed, the nights are long and dark. Gran Turismois a trip-hop album following the lead of grim meisters Portishead. The CD is punctuated with distorted, muted, uncomplicated guitar riffs and keyboard effects that often sound like a harpsichord played through a fuzz box. Nina Persson's slightly aching, sleepy little cutesy lead vocals sound as frictionless as rubbing two ice cubes together. Although the skies are grayer here, the one familiar musical element is their simple yet compelling rhythm structures, as evidenced in their jazz-informed drum patterns. If the Cardigans weren't competent musicians, this album would come across as nothing more than a career-sustaining maneuver. But with this solid, dark, and intriguing release, they've clearly demonstrated their ability to compose great songs, no matter what the weather. —Beth Bessmer

The Cardigans Statistics are a baffling thing. They tell us that Sweden enjoys Europe's highest standard of living and its highest suicide rate. Statistics also tell us that The Cardigans are the country's most successful musical export since Abba. This actually makes perfect sense, for the quintet's music is an uncannily accurate microcosm of the country that spawned it—deliciously breezy pop melodies lent just enough bite by Nina Persson's fatalistic vocals. It's a recipe they perfected with unnerving confidence on Life, which exhibits an instinctive familiarity with the pantheon of timeless pop. Burt Bacharach's shadow looms unmistakably over the pensive autumnal strains of "Celia Inside" and "Tomorrow", whilst fragrant indie-pop nuggets such as "Rise And Shine" and "Gordon's Gardenparty" suggest that guitarist/songwriter Peter Svensson spent more than the occasional evening learning his craft from old Smiths records. It is, of course, impossible to discuss intuitive 90s female-fronted pop acts without mentioning Saint Etienne. The appreciation, in this case, is mutual; so impressed were the Etienne with the airy pristine sound of Life, that they were inspired to record 1997's Good Humorin the same Malmo studios. —Peter Paphides

Carlisle Belinda

Catatonia If International Velvetwas Catatonia exploding into the public sights, Equally Cursed and Blessedis the sound of a band realizing what's happened. As such, it is a much more personal album. The opening track "Dead from the Waist Down" provides a tour-bus perspective on America while "Bulimic Beats" is glassily fragile and backs Cerys Matthews's voice with a harp. Catatonia continue to stomp about while displaying wit, particularly with "Londinium" ("I come alive outside the M25") and the wonderful, Clash-influenced "Storm the Palace," an anti-Royalist song suggesting what we can do with the Queen and her house ("Turn it into a bar, let them work in Spar"). Finally, on "She's a Millionaire," Matthews delivers the best pronunciation of the word "gynecology" ever recorded. —Emma Johnston

Catatonia In the spring of 1998, Catatonia's International Velvetwas the number one record in Britain, and they were touted as the saviors of U.K. rock. In itself, that's not such a great feat, since specious acts like Manic Street Preachers, Mansun, and Ocean Colour Scene have received similar praise. But in this case some of the accolades are justified. International Velvetis a cosmopolitan cavalcade of style and sound. Some songs ("Mulder and Scully,""International Velvet") are buoyantly punchy, combining the emphatic drama of the London Suede with the quirky vivacity of Elastica. Others ("Don't Need the Sunshine,""Johnny Come Lately") are more reminiscent of English folk- popsters like Nick Drake, and a couple ("Goldfish and Paracetamol,""Why I Can't Stand One Night Stands") even blend elements of trip-hop with lumbering bar balladry. Regardless of musical technique, all the songs are unified by the vocals of chanteuse Cerys Matthews, who can seduce, berate, and reduce the listener to tears all in a single breath. The Welsh music scene is Catatonic no more. —Jon Wiederhorn

The Charlatans U.K. Quavering Hammond organ? Check. Sixties-throwback guitar riffs? Check. Climbing bass lines? Check. Ecstasy-blessed dreamscape that branded nearly all music coming out of Manchester, England, in the early '90s? Check again. With each new album, the Charlatans peel away the layers of hypnotic haze that enveloped their landmark debut, Some Friendly. Us and Us Only, their sixth studio release, reveals the core of the band's influences with greatest clarity. The opening track, "Forever," lives up to its name, an epic seven-and-a-half-minute free-wheeling tributary of free-association psychedelia. But after that, the jams are lifted nearly verbatim out of the Rolling Stones' proverbial songbook. The reigning "Madchester" champs don roots-rocker hats, as lead singer Tim Burgess occasionally works in his best Bob Dylan impression, the wah-wah gives way to twangy hooks, and piano and harmonica fill out melodies. Us and Us Onlyis an archetypically derivative album; but the honesty in its production has resulted in the Charlatans' most enduring collection. —Beth Massa

The Chemical Brothers To follow up their bombastic 1995 album Exit Planet Dust, the Chemical Brothers fine-tuned their bombastic beats and produced a rock-solid pop album (pun intended). Dig Your Own Holefinds the common ground between rock & roll and techno, both in spirit and substance. Singles like "Block Rockin' Beats,""Elektrobank," and "Setting Sun" (featuring vocals by Oasis's Noel Gallagher) may lack the big hair and pomposity of rock music, but they make up for it in spades, with sampled and real guitars battling for space with sirens and distorted hip-hop drums. The album reeks of pure enthusiasm and energy, evoking a crowd-pleasing exuberance that makes Dig Your Own Holea Back in Blackfor the late 1990s. Pure stadium techno. —Matthew Corwine

The Chemical Brothers A key record of the 1990s, Exit Planet Dustinvented the big-beat style that dominated British dance music in the second half of the decade, and it still sounds superb in its own right. Skull-crunching hip-hop loops, fuzz guitar, insistently repetitive spoken samples and thunderous basslines make up the blueprint for one of the most instantly energising albums ever recorded. Many of the titles——"Chemical Beats", "Fuck Up Beats", "Chico's Groove"—are fairly self-explanatory. Others show a level of erudite humour;"Song To The Siren" filches the name of a Tim Buckley ballad for a track more in keeping with the mysteries of a car alarm, while "One Too Many Mornings" is nothing that Bob Dylan would recognise in a hurry. Collaborations with Beth Orton ("Alive Alone") and the Charlatans' Tim Burgess ("Life Is Sweet") add human voices to the brilliant mechanical formula. —David Bennun

The Clash Punk's death knell had already been called, but London Callingfound The Clash fighting a heroic rear guard battle. Having shelved the no-frills heads-down thunder of The Clashand Give 'Em Enough Rope, London Callingwas an extravagant benchmark. Ostensibly about the ideological and real struggles that rent British society asunder at the end of the 1970s, London Callingwas couched in the language of revolutionary desperadoes. Influenced by reggae and ska, and augmented by the Irish Horns, the result was one of the most heady, celebratory rock & roll records to have come out of the punk movement. For every traditional rabble-rouser like "Rudie Can't Fail" or "Revolution Rock", though, there was a starker truth to London Callingfound in "Guns Of Brixton", or a shred of poignancy in "Lost In The Supermarket" that confirmed The Clash's ideological importance to a generation. Seldom, if ever, had punk sounded so gloriously righteous, but so damn right. —Louis Pattison

Coldplay Music doesn't come more touching than Parachutes. With their debut single alone, the emotion-fortified "Shiver", Coldplay proved they could shift between elated and crushed in a breath as singer Chris Martin poured out music's oldest chestnut (unconditional yet unrequited love) with the shakiest of voices and a backdrop of epic guitars that rouse and tug at the heart strings. For 10 tracks on Parachutes, he comes out with these, adding new-found meaning to the most tired and overused rock sentiments—love found, love lost, love unrequited, hurting the ones you love and the struggle that is life—over acoustic guitars and emotionally fraught rock. And for once, all the clichés ring true, thanks to Chris Martin genuinely sounding like a man picking over the bones of his life and soul, coming up with equal parts reasons to be cheerful and seriously depressed. Not that Parachutesis a depressing album; there's too much conviction to the guitars and hope in Martin's words for that. Instead it's a beautifully tender balance that comes as close to perfection as anything that's come before it. —Dan Gennoe

Coldplay On Coldplay's A Rush of Blood to the Head, the melodic excellence of Parachutesremains, as does the delicate soulfulness of Chris Martin's voice. But now different styles are approached, as the band develop even further beyond their debut album (and the numerous Radiohead comparisons that dogged them at first). "God Put a Smile upon Your Face", for instance, has a thumping voodoo quality, while the hypnotic "A Whisper" has a wild vocal arrangement recalling Jefferson Airplane. Beyond this, each of the 11 tracks—from the literate power ballad "In My Place" to the 60s-style mantra "Daylight"—are given room to breathe, gradually reaching an ecstatic crescendo where Martin and that huge Coldplay piano ride over a pulsing rhythm and orchestrations that are powerful but never overblown. "Give me real, don't give me fake" says Martin in the opening "Politik" and it's an appropriately uncompromising demand, for A Rush of Blood...is without doubt the most heartfelt and emotionally liberated album to top the charts in ages. —Dominic Wills

Coldplay Coldplay were faced with a difficult choice as they set to work on X&Y. They could either follow Radiohead’s lead and use their enormous success and financial security as a springboard to a brave experimental future—or they could play it safe, repeat the tricks used on the 16 million-selling A Rush Of Blood To The Head, and consolidate their position as one of the biggest bands in the world.

In truth, despite the Tetris-inspired artwork and presence of teaser track "Talk"—which steals its melody line from electro-futurists Kraftwerk’s gorgeous "Computer Love"—X—X&Yis more the latter than the former. Fans will be delighted by "What If?", a piano elegy that takes flight on strings, and slowly builds towards a Beatles'"A Day In The Life"-style climax, while the likes of "Fix You" and hidden track "'Til Kingdom Come"—originally written for country hero Johnny Cash—proves Martin’s skill for simple, affecting songwriting remains intact. One development, however, comes through the judicious inclusion of some rather pleasant synthesiser work—see "White Shadows", where Martin gently beseeches "Come on love, stay with me" over a gentle Eno-esque keyboard wash. Fair enough: the experimental albums can come later. —Louis Pattison

More to Explore

A Rush of Blood to the Head (CD)

Parachutes(CD)

Coldplay: Live 2003(Limited Edition DVD with Live CD)

Coldplay: Look at the Stars(Paperback)

Find more from Coldplay

Counting Crows It's amazing the difference a year makes. Upon its release, August and Everything Aftersounded remarkably fresh, a welcome change from the crunch and screech of grunge. Blending the vocal athleticism of Van Morrison with the moody rock of The Band, the Counting Crows turned on a whole legion of fans turned off by modern rock. But what sounded fresh soon became stale as dozens of bands flocked to the radio with euthanised versions of the Counting Crows' sound. But you shouldn't hold that against the Crow boys. August and Everything Afteris a fantastic rock album. Though "Mr. Jones" was the money-maker, the disc features such stand-out cuts as the dark lilt of "Anna Begins", the morose "Rain King", and the outstanding U2-meets-Grant Lee Buffalo anthem "Murder of One". Maybe time, and another listen, will heal the damage wrought. —Tod Nelson

Counting Crows Recovering the Satellitesmay not be quite the tower of song that the Crows' debut August and Everything Afterwas, but it could hardly be called a sophomore slump. Vocalist Adam Duritz and crew mine similar territory on the more densely produced Satellites, couching tales of dreamers, lovers, and losers in music that's part classic rock redux and part heartfelt folk jangle. As able as the band is though, it remains Duritz's show, and his plaintive voice and serpentine lyrics are what drive this record home, particularly on "Daylight Fading", "Miller's Angels" and the aching hit "A Long December."—Michael Ruby

Counting Crows Two years in the making, This Desert Life is the kind of collection that will please the Counting Crows faithful and leave doubters unconverted. Adam Duritz's recognisably emotive vocals and the group's classic-rock stylings remain in the fore as the Crows stick near the nest with their third studio outing. The Mellencamp-like opener, "Hanginaround", is one of the strongest tunes here, thanks to its laid-back passion and catchy piano and percussive elements. The familiar feeling "Mrs. Potter's Lullaby" is another lively offering, but at nearly eight minutes it's too long. The emotional, Van Morrison-like lament "All My Friends" feels self-pitying, while the balance of the album is simply bland. The sound is appealing (witness the spare "Colorblind" and the waltzing "Amy Hit the Atmosphere"), but This Desert Life is, on the whole, rather dry. —Katherine Turman

Crowded House

Damien Rice The Words "Singer" and "Songwriter" Are Not Always Mutually Exclusive, but in this Case, They Truly Mean Something Very Special. Damien Rice is Irish and a Contemporary of Another Acclaimed Singer Songwriter David Kitt. Rice Showcases his Very Special Talents for Creating Stories and Songs of Depth and Emotion with a Meticulousness that is Envied by Many He Has Passed on his Way to Fame. Just a Couple of Listens to this Album Will have You Admiring Him, in Awe of his Immense Talent. (Must Run in the Family...his Cousin is Renowned Composer David Arnold.)

Dandy Warhols

Dandy Warhols 13 Tales From Urban Bohemia, the third album from the Dandy Warhols, has the band departing from the degenerate slacker psychedelia of their previous works. Well, mostly. From the first three tracks of Urban Bohemia, you'd be forgiven for thinking that it's business as usual for the Dandys. However, when the slide guitar (and, yes, banjo) of "Country Leaver" kicks in, it's clear that Courtney Taylor is taking his Portland, Oregon-based band somewhere different. From that point, the album changes tack and becomes one of the catchiest—and sardonic—American rock albums in recent memory. "Solid" is all upbeat harmonies about the joy of getting over a previous lover, while "Horse Pills"—which starts with Taylor's deadpan and indifferent command to "kick it"—is all big, fuzzy guitars and hip-hop beats wielded against too-rich, silicon-and-valium-addicted divorcées. Easy targets, to be sure, but it's when the Dandys focus their attention on wannabe artsy types on "Bohemian Like You" that this album truly proves its worth, with a guitar riff lifted straight off of the Rolling Stones, backed by some Hammond organ and one of the catchiest sing-along choruses since Pulp's "Common People". With obvious influences ranging from Lou Reed to the Cult to Adam and the Ants, 13 Tales From Urban Bohemia is a classic, and classy, rock album. —Robert Burrow

Dandy Warhols It's refreshing to hear a 1980s tribute that doesn't get overwhelmed by its own sense of irony. The Dandy Warhols' fourth album, Welcome to the Monkey Houseis just such an album. Teaming up with coproducer Nick Rhodes—who learned a thing or two about 80s success-via-excess as Duran Duran's keyboard player—the Dandys have ditched most of their guitars in favour of synths and sequencers, and teamed up with a host of "genuine, period authentic" guest stars: Duran Duran's Simon Le Bon provides backing vocals on the tripped-out "Plan A", Chic guitarist/producer Nile Rodgers joins the band on the retro, electro-funk work-out "I Am a Scientist" and legendary Bowie/ T-Rex producer Tony Visconti collaborates on "The Dope" and the glam-stomp of "Hit Rock Bottom".

Generally, the new sound is a change that suits them well—the Dandy Warhols have always had a superb sense of history, and their best work has often been their more obvious homage ("Bohemian Like You", for example). But more than that, the Dandys have retained their playful, baiting sense of humour (they are, after all, also responsible for the classic "Not If You Were the Last Junky on Earth"), and it's this tongue-in-cheek deconstruction of their own coolness that serves them well on Welcome to the Monkey House. Frontman Courtney Taylor-Taylor (the double-barrelled surname is new, so maybe it's an attempt at anglicising?) still delivers most of his lyrics with a lazy nonchalance, but this time he matches it with a tight-trousers falsetto that seems equally suited to his androgynous image. As with most Dandy Warhols albums, the best songs on Monkey Houseare the most biting—in particular the first single, "We Used to Be Friends". The rest of the album isn't as immediately accessible, but it's well worth giving it a few listens. Guitars or not, the Dandy Warhols know a thing or two about writing a catchy tune, and Welcome to the Monkey Houseis as much fun as anything they've done before. —Robert Burrow

The Dandy Warhols

David Bowie The second most important moment in Bowie's glam period, Aladdin Saneis full of smart, cutting-edge songs that hold up decades later as classic moments in rock. Standout tracks include "Panic in Detroit", with Mick Ronson's screaming guitars and Mick Woodmansey's urgent drumming;"Watch that Man", a piano-driven, rollicking number perfect for the Bowie strut; the lascivious and sweaty "Cracked Actor"; the punky "Jean Genie"; and a perfectly raucous cover of "Let's Spend the Night Together". "Time" hearkens back to the theatrics of The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust, while "Drive in Saturday", "The Prettiest Star", and "Lady Grinning Soul" serve as precursors to Bowie's "plastic soul" sounds that came later in the 1970s. Aladdin Saneis even more impressive when considering that the same year this album was made, Bowie was also working with artists like Iggy Pop and Lou Reed, producing some of their most heralded works (the Stooges'Raw Powerand Reed's Transformer). —Lorry Fleming

David Bowie Though one of rock's most influential figures, David Bowie's accomplishments are pocked by some distinct ironies. His willful efforts at being a musical and visual chameleon spurred triumphs in genres as diverse as folk, glam, new wave, and electronica. Given the dizzying range and success of his '70s incarnations—from Ziggy to the Thin White Duke to the gaunt, goth-cypher of Lowand Heroes—he seemed the artist most well-equipped to weather the changing tides of taste and trend, yet saw his career essentially shrink to cult status after scoring his biggest triumphs when he reshaped the soulless, dance-oriented club music of the early '80s into his own image. This 20-track compilation does little to address the Chinese puzzle that has been Bowie's post-'85 career, but it does deliver an artistically dizzying slate of hits as it skips from one early peak to the next, from evocative cabaret ("Space Oddity,""Changes") through muscular glam-rock ("Suffragette City,""The Jean Genie") to R&B ("Young Americans,""Fame") and post-punk flirtations ("Ashes to Ashes,""Fashion") to the dance-club hits ("Let's Dance,""China Girl,""Modern Love") and '80s one-off duets ("Under Pressure" with Queen, "Dancing in the Streets" with Mick Jagger) that essentially marked the end of his superstar reign. Whole eras and at least one classic '70s album (Low) go completely unaddressed, but all of Bowie's signature hits are here, as well as Earthling's powerful, underappreciated "I'm Afraid of Americans."—Jerry McCulley

David Bowie Pretty self-explanatory stuff, this, since Best of Bowiecollects most of Bowie's hits and a few of his more fetishised songs onto two CDs, rendering previous compilations—notably 1990's ChangesBowie—redundant. Of course, it's fantastic. For this is Bowie's pop genius shrink-wrapped: music notable for both its pretension and its accessibility, brimming with unignorable power and bespangled absurdity. Racing through these 39 songs from "Space Oddity" to "Slow Burn" (from 2002's relative return-to-form Heathen), the surprise is how coherent they sound next to each other. For someone so often portrayed as an artistic shape-shifter, it's the consistency of Bowie's vision that's most apparent, how he stamps his identity on every trend he comes across.

Like the Rolling Stones' similarly enjoyable 40 Licks, things do get a bit sticky towards the end of Disc Two, though there's mercifully nothing from the two Tin Machine albums. Obsessives should note, too, that the tracklisting of Best of Bowievaries from country to country: the albums have been compiled according to the most popular songs in each territory. Wonder which lucky place got "The Laughing Gnome" included on their version? —John Mulvey

David Bowie Of all David Bowie's many distinctive personae, none have done more to lodge this most ingenious of British artists in the world's consciousness than his 1972 amalgam of the alien visitor and Christ-like rock star: Ziggy Stardust. Cheap glamour, spacemen and ambiguous sexuality surface throughout the loosely conceptualised collection that is The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars. If its premise sounds faintly ludicrous, then inspired and dramatic songs such as "Starman" and "Five Years" dispel all doubts about Bowie's genius, and the theatrically tragic "Rock 'n' Roll Suicide" brings the album and it's fictional protagonist to a close. As a cultural and musical signpost, Ziggy Stardust points simultaneously backwards to early rock & roll and forward to the simpler, tougher inclinations of late-1970s punk and New Wave rock. As one of the defining rock albums of the 20th century, its influence is immeasurable. —James Littlewood

David Gray Hardly anybody—with the notable exception of Irish songstress Mary Black, who subsequently turned out a rather splendid cover version of "Shine" some years later—bought A Century Ends, David Gray's debut album. Emerging in 1993, at a time when an uncharacteristically contented British public was bending its knees and twanging its braces along to the larksome antics of Britpop, there was little space on the living-room shelf for the torturous boudoir ponderings of a young-but-gnarly Dylan soundalike. There are pretty moments, but this is a record where angst and lust reign supreme——"Debauchery—"Debauchery" is a salty tale of having it away on a rug with an alcoholically-lubricated lady ferry boat operative (sung in a voice pitched somewhere between the Waterboy's Mike Scott and celebrated naval fish-finger salesperson Captain Birdseye) while "Lead Me Upstairs" is a courtship tale which dispenses with first-date niceties. Britain later changed its mind about David Gray—after all, more people in the UK own his 1998 album White Ladderthan own a ladder—but A Century Endsis a surprising rediscovery, a record begging further investigation for anybody whose idea of a good night in involves the solitary rolling of Rizlas along to Astral Weeksor Blood on the Tracks. —Kevin Maidment

David Gray A major artist in Ireland, David Gray has a loyal but somewhat smaller following throughout the rest of the world. Since his 1994 debut album A Century Ends, he has consistently produced quality, folk-tinged songs that showcase his one major talent—a raw yet melodic voice. White Laddermarks something of a departure from his usual fare, as it sees him embracing a more modern sound, adding interesting beats and electronic sounds to the more traditional acoustic guitar and piano. In trying to widen his appeal, he risks alienating his fan base, but tracks like "This Year's Love" and "My Oh My" should keep everybody happy. —Helen Marquis

Dean Martin

Death In Vegas From the dizzying, ominous building chords of the opening "Dirge" to the frazzled exorcism of the closing "Neptune City", The Contino Sessionsis a tooth-and-nail battle against Richard Fearless' demons. That's the last time any lazy journalist calls Death In Vegas a big beat act. This is the culmination of a long journey from Fearless' inauspicious beginnings—a Chemical Brothers protegé, playing records at the Heavenly Social—but then, The Contino Sessionsis infused with a sense of all-conquering, boundless re-invention. Fearless has re-sparked the garage-punk tradition, and he's even enlisted some of junk-rock's old guard to help out. Primal Scream's Bobby Gillespie wheezes his way through the smacked-out groove of "Soul Auctioneer", the Jesus & Mary Chain's Jim Reid hisses dirty threats on "Broken Little Sister" and even Iggy Pop shows up to contemplate multiple homicide on "Aisha". Mindless hedonism wearing a little thin? Death In Vegas' bleak rockin' beats end the party with decadent style. —Louis Pattison

Death In Vegas A milestone in the evolution of British big beat, Dead Elvisshunned the speed, cocaine and amyl nitrate-inspired sounds of its peers for music that suggested the effects of opium or barbiturates. Not that there's anything sluggish about it; rather, it's heavy-lidded and dosed with dub for a profoundly narcotic effect. It's hard to pick stand-outs from a record of such overall high quality, but "Dirt", with its abrasive guitars smeared across a juddering bassline and a bowel-quake of a drumbeat, is truly a thing deserving of awe. "GBH" also does a fair job of living up to its title, in a lively two-step kind of way; and the overtly psychedelic "Rekkit" and "Rocco" probably sound just as good, and much the same, played backwards. —David Bennun

Death In Vegas Scorpio Risingfollows the same approach as Death in Vegas' remarkable predecessor, The Contino Sessions. Richard Fearless and Tim Holmes corral a host of special guests to populate their barbed soundscapes and their knack for finding the perfect environment to bring out the best in their chosen guest is as sure as ever. Liam Gallagher excels himself on the title track, inspired by cult filmmaker Kenneth Anger's celebrated movie, Paul Weller brings just the right measure of disdain to a simmering version of Gene Clark's "So You Say You Lost Your Baby", while Hope Sandoval's sultry tones bring a sensual glow to the storming finale "Help Yourself". Throughout, Indian violinist Doctor Subramanian helps flesh out the eclectic but perfectly tailored backing tracks. Fearless and Holmes display the sort of insight that would be the envy of any record company A&R department. —Gavin Martin

Dido Life for Rentwas always going to be a tough prospect for Dido—how to follow up the multi-million selling No Angel? On initial inspection, it sounds like she's decided to stick to the safe option—if it ain't broke, don't fix it. So, it's business as usual with down-tempo beats, lush orchestrations, the odd bit of acoustic guitar and her distinctive voice as the cherry on top. However, a closer examination of the lyrics shows that the sweet happy English Rose has a much darker side to her—the joyous revelations of tracks such as "Thank You" on her debut album have been replaced by the sound of her heart breaking. Dido writes from the heart, sharing her personal life with her audience, so Life for Renttells the tales of her life away from the recording studio, in particular her public break-up with her long-term boyfriend and all the apparent mess that ensued. With tales of rows ("Stoned"), confusion following an ended love affair ("White Flag") and her inability to settle down ("Life for Rent"), it's insecurities, self doubt and despair all around.

There is hope, with one of the album's musical highlights "Sand in My Shoes", which sees her going off on holiday and embarking on a holiday romance—halfway between Club 18-30 and Shirley Valentine. It's impossible not to think of Bridget Jones when listening to the album, and this, in the first instance, is the audience for whom this album will reach out and touch. —Melanie Wilkin

Dido Dido's debut is moulded from Sarah McLachlan's intimate soul, Sinead O'Connor's Celtic yelp and Beth Orton's morose resolve—with all the sharp edges rounded out. Sculpted by producers Rollo (her brother) and techno-scientist Youth, No Angelis dream-pop mixed with Portishead-esque trip-hop; the results are mid-tempo ballads that would feel at home in Seal's neighbourhood. The melancholy opener, "Here With Me", incorporates acoustic rhythm guitar, fluid strings and a snare-driven tempo that simulates the slapping of rain on a windscreen. "My Lover's Gone" is ethereal and misty, sounding at once ancient and modern with its synthesised ocean sounds and seagull cries. The only clunker is "Don't Think of Me", a passive, soft-bellied cousin to Alanis Morissette's "You Oughta Know". These songs play out beautifully in that quiet zone between slumber and consciousness—where you can see everything behind closed eyes. —Beth Massa

Dire Straits This is the re-issued SACD version of Brothers in Arms.Dire Straits' fifth album will probably be remembered as the record that ushered in the CD generation, and therefore (depending on your affiliations) a work of extreme evil or an object lesson in craftsmanship. In truth though, it's neither. Inevitably, some moments haven't dated so well. "Money For Nothing", Mark Knopfler's satire of the MTV generation, seems as vacant as its target; while the jukebox jive of "Walk Of Life" could have used a little roughing up. In fairness though, such low points constitute a minority. In latter years, indie bands such as Gomez and Spiritualized have eagerly cited JJ Cale and Dr John as pivotal influences on their work. Perhaps so, but it's the less fashionable Knopfler and his intuitive feel for the fretboard who comes closer. You needn't dig too deep to identify the roots of beauties such as "So Far Away" and "Why Worry". —Peter Paphides

DJ Shadow DJ Shadow, a.k.a. Josh Davis, could be credited with bringing newfound introspection to the gloating sounds of hip-hop. Condensed with urban oscillations and scatological beats, Endtroducingshutters with eclectic samples and aural montages that reach beyond the constraints of hip-hop style. Enhancing the mix with fundamentals of rock, soul, funk, ambient, and jazz, the modern fusions fail to go unnoticed, even by the casual listener. While most of the tracks are compiled by layering samples from vinyl treasures found in used-record bins, the production quality of the mosaic is unmatched. Darkened melodies carry throughout the album with its eye on the end of the tunnel. The narration samples come from numerous sources and keep the listener involved and waiting for resolution. With a message as fragmentary as an overheard conversation, Endtroducingconveys no apparent conclusion, but begs the mind, body, and soul for some rewind. —Lucas Hilbert

DJ Shadow This set compiles much of DJ Shadow's pre-major label material in one convenient package in an attempt to foil bootleggers and bring new fans up-to-date in the curriculum. The results are naturally varied, but all point to a marvelous evolution of talent. The collection is kept together primarily by its propensity for jazzy beats and psychedelic loops. Shadow (né Josh Davis) moves through everything from old school funk ("In/Flux") to grungy '60s-style guitar raveups ("High Noon"). The centerpiece of the set, however, is a four-part composition called "What Does Your Soul Look Like," which is likely to be the first ever entirely sample-driven rock opera. It's a brilliant piece of work, laced with intriguing sounds, sound bites, and a detectable set of motion. It is also quite possibly better than anything on the critically -acclaimed Entroducing. —Aidin Vaziri

DJ Shadow Countless copycats have landed on the bandwagon since Josh Davis's debut, Endtroducing..., wreaked havoc in the dance and hip-hop world. But Davis, a.k.a. DJ Shadow, kept on top of his game with various collaborations—Blackalicious, U.N.K.L.E., Cut Chemist—and superlative 12-inches like "High Noon" and "Pre-Emptive Strike."

Now, a full six years later, he's back with a follow-up that is every bit as impressive as his debut, albeit in a different way. Once again, the producer has pushed his sampler to the limits, but this time he's brought with it a deeper, hungrier, more bad-ass spirit that's rarely found in modern dance music. There's a fabulous '80s vibe throughout (principally on tracks like "Monosylabik" and "You Can't Go Home Again"), along with the expected forays into b-boy culture (check the growling, massive "Treach Battle Break" and the funky-ass "Mashin' on the Motorway"). While it's identifiably Shadow, it ain't Endtroducing...Part 2. It is, however, a worthy and imaginative follow-up, with humor, wisdom, and musical understanding aplenty. —Paul Sullivan

Doors

Doors

The Doors On their 1967 debut album, the Doors more than fulfilled the promise of their infamously challenging gigs around Los Angeles throughout the previous year. Whether belting out a standard like "Back Door Man" or talk-singing such originals as "The Crystal Ship" and "I Looked at You", leather-clad vocalist Jim Morrison exuded both sensuality and menace. The mixture, on the outsize album finale, "The End", helped rewrite the rules on rock song composition. None of this would have worked, though, were it not for the highly visual instrumental work of keyboardist Ray Manzarek, guitarist Robbie Krieger and drummer John Densmore, whose work on tracks such as "Take It As It Comes" and the lengthy hit "Light My Fire" virtually defined the rock- blues-jazz-classical amalgam that was acid-rock. —Billy Altman

The Doors Even darker than their purple-hued debut, the Doors' follow-up, Strange Days, closed 1967 with an ominous flourish. Highlighted mostly by short, radio- friendly tunes such as the bluesy "Love Me Two Times" and the cabaret-style "People Are Strange" and featuring a smattering of edgy recitations ("Horse Latitudes") and smoky rockers ("My Eyes Have Seen You"), the album features a centerpiece that was another ambitious extended track, "When the Music's Over". On it, Morrison railed at everything from organised religion to pollution, and his rallying cry——"We want the world, and we want it now!"—became a call to arms for the counterculture rising up around the band. —Billy Altman

The Doors This was the album which was due to feature "Celebration Of The Lizard"—Jim Morrison's eagerly-awaited 10-minute poem written in tribute to said sexy reptile. Alas though, it wasn't to be. Instead they inserted less ambitious oldie "Hello I Love You" at the last minute and hoped that no-one would mind. Unsurprisingly, it sticks out like a sore thumb on a set which represents the peak of Jim Morrison's belief that he was some kind of leather-trousered shaman. Were this not a 60s rock group, such acts of narcotic delusion might signal disaster. Narcotic delusion though, was what 60s rock groups did best—and here's an album full of it: the elegiac piano inflections that frame "Yes The River Knows"; the warped, disembodied "Not To Touch The Earth" and that oft-overlooked pagan sea-shanty "My Wild Love". Indeed, only "The Unknown Soldier" and "Five To One" serve to remind the listener that this was an album recorded at the peak of the Vietnam war—the latter lyric, of course, spawning the title of Morrison's best-selling biography No-One Here Gets Out Alive. —Peter Paphides

Doves With new-found optimism aplenty, The Last Broadcastsees frontman Jimi Goodwin and multi-instrumentalist brothers Andy and Jez Williams soaring to new if perhaps grandiose heights. Two years on from their Mercury Music Prize nominated debut Lost Soulsand the dishevelled guitar-toting Manchester trio look to have finally put the demise of their ill-fated dance act Sub Sub, the burning down of their studio and the later death of their manager Rob Gretton behind them.

The thundering opening beat and spiralling guitars of "Words" are reminiscent of Ride at their bombastic peak, while "There Goes the Fear" relentlessly reverberating with Latin rhythms, New-Order-influenced guitars and sweeping vocals is nothing less than breathtaking. Quiet reprieve comes with M62, a delicate haunting reworking of King Crimson's "Moonchild", bizarrely recorded under the M62 flyover in Manchester, its desolate atmospherics are juxtaposed to the remainder of the album. With the thrusting onslaught of "Pounding", the obligatory earthy rock of "NY" and the joyous pastoral acoustic-led splendour of "Caught by the River", the Doves have crafted a liberating sophomore album that happily combines the uplifting anthemic essence of dance with good old rock & roll. —Christopher Barret

Doves In an about-face that will infuriate technophiles, this group of dance revisionists celebrate guitars and "real instruments" in the face of processed music. The Williams brothers and their mate Jim Goodwin first had a hit with the disco-charged "Ain't No Love (Ain't No Use)", but disillusionment with the Manchester scene set in, so they picked up guitars and formed Doves—a band determined to infuse raw emotion into music. From instrumental opener "Firesuite"—which showcases their rumbling, restrained guitar firepower—to the tumbling acoustic shanty "Sea Song", the Latin guitar lines of "The Man Who Told Everything", the balmy Technique-era New Order rocker "Catch The Sun" and the aqueous, soaring "Rise", none of the album's 11 tracks bear any real resemblance to each other. Doves have produced an outstanding debut album in Lost Souls, alternately melancholy and uplifting, sparkling darkly with charged atmospherics. —Mike Pattenden

Dr. Dre How to follow the phenomenally-successful The Chronic album must have caused superstar rap producer Dr Dre more than a few sleepless nights. Five years on, for 2001 he's gathered a plethora of prime, new rap talent around him, including his prodigy-of-the-moment, Eminem, and Xzibit (who duet on boombastic anthem "What's The Difference?"); and is reunited with former compadres Snoop Dogg, Kurupt and MC Ren. While the lyrical preoccupations remain the same—sex, sess (marijuana), girls, guns and cars—the predictably flawless production has been cranked up way beyond the G-Funk formula that found him fame. "Still D.R.E." is driven by the persistent pluck of a harmonium; "Light Speed" is all spooky, retro-future funk; and "Forgot About Dre" boosts kinetic, Timbaland-style beats with insistent strings and squalls of guitar. All in all, there's more than enough on here to satisfy the hardcore that Dre is back and business is booming. —Chris Campion

The Dust Brothers The Dust Brothers are best known as the production duo that everyone from the Beastie Boys to Beck and White Zombie have turned to for help behind the mixing board (and to great results). With the soundtrack to Fight Club(the movie based on the Chuck Palahniuk novel), we finally get a glimpse of one of the duo's original creations. Filled with dark techno and sparse industrial passages, it's a bleak though interesting listen. Sinister funk gives way to medieval chants on "Homework," but the bulk of this disc is all about samples and synths. Don't expect to find the quirks of Paul's Boutiqueor Odelayhere, but in terms of good movie mood music, the Dust Brothers have done it again. —Jason Verlinde

Eagle Eye Cherry The offspring of jazz-trumpet great Don Cherry and half-brother of both Neneh Cherry and Swedish pop diva Titiyo (who duets with her brother on "Worried Eyes"), Eagle-Eye proves that we are not who we're related to. He was born in Stockholm to Cherry and Swedish mixed-media artist Moki, and one might suppose a member of this clan to be as innovative as the rest of his brood, especially given such an idiosyncratic moniker. But it turns out that that's the only eccentric thing about this musician. Cherry offers up a low-key, melodic diary of tales of his misspent youth in New York. And despite the music's soft-focus part-Cat Stevens, part-Ben Harper leanings, occasionally you realize that Eagle-Eye must have pasted posters of Ozzy Osbourne and Jimi Hendrix on his bedroom wall. "Indecision" (supposedly a rejoinder to Stockholm neo-Nazi "White Noise" bands like Swastika) rides on a searing Richie Blackmore lick. "Save Tonight" is a bittersweet reworking of Peter, Paul and Mary's "Leaving on a Jet Plane" theme. The title song updates his late father's "Desireless", which is revitalized via sparse piano, a haunting trumpet, and Cherry's hypnotic, repetitive vocals. Here it's clear that, even though he is dabbling in the shoals of alt-folk-rock, Eagle-Eye can claim a limb on the family tree anytime he wants. —Jaan Uhelszki

Elton John

Elton John Tumbleweed Connection is part of the early catalogue of Elton John's work that Guns N' Roses singer Axl Rose reportedly once said he would love to own the publishing rights to as a work of art. Indeed, it does contain some of John's most expressive work as an artist, but with the showy stage presence and pop melodicism still under construction. Tumbleweed is characterized by John's balladeer approach, with John at his storyteller best on songs like "Burn Down the Mission." Even if the lyrics were generally written by Bernie Taupin, John's voice and inflection made every song seem deeply personal. The beautiful "Come Down in Time" displays the subtleties and sophistication of his talent, with the piano not yet serving as the instrumental focal point it would later become. The album also features the favourite "Ballad of a Well-Known Gun" and "Where to Now St. Peter?" —Steve Gdula

Elvis Presley

Elvis Presley Heralded in the UK by an ultra-cool remix by JXL, Elvis: 30 #1 Hitsis one of the most succinct packages of Presley's best work ever released. Based on the idea of the Beatles 1album, this compilation includes all 31 Elvis singles that have been number one in either the US or the UK.

Set in roughly chronological order, the collection begins with his first hit, the swaggering "Heartbreak Hotel". Despite digital remastering it still sounds nearly half a century old when compared to his most recent (and posthumous) hit "A Little Less Conversation", but it remains a timeless classic for new generations to discover. Most people—young or old—will know of or be able to hum a few bars from most of the songs here. Many a karaoke singer will have had a stab at "Love Me Tender" or "Suspicious Minds"; others will have heard a family member brutally crooning their way through "Are You Lonesome Tonight?" or "It's Now or Never".

Twenty-five years after Elvis's untimely death, younger generations have become accustomed to the image of Presley as a tragic icon of comedy excess, remembering him for garish jump-suits, trademark shades and a thick black quiff. Elvis: 30 #1 Hitswill remind many that he was the King for a very good reason. —David Trueman

Eminem Any lingering doubts as to the depth of Eminem's skills, or his potential for raw-yet-compelling honesty, are dispelled on The Eminem Show's first track. Armed with a quicksilver flow and a thundering rhythm track (the record was exec-produced by long-time mentor/partner Dr Dre, "White America" finds Eminem ferociously mauling the hand that feeds him, lambasting his critics, the industry and the racism that, in many ways, helped make Marshall Mathers more than just another rapper. "Let's do the math," Em sneers, "If I was black I would have sold half….I could be one of your kids/ little Eric looks just like this."

After the bombast of The Marshall Mathers LPand Eminem's well-noted use of sexual epithets, this kind of material is made more controversial because it actually rings true. From a brutal retort to his long-estranged and equally troubled mother ("Cleaning Out My Closets") to a surprisingly tender ode to his child ("Hailie's Song"), Eminem examines his life, loves, arrests, addictions, failures and successes with surprising insight, making this a funk-drenched hip-hop confessional well worth the hype. —Amy Linden

Eminem His second album finds Eminem struggling to contain the pressures of success. And he's dealing it with it disgracefully. The Detroit rapper's multiple identities are more mixed up than ever, with Marshall Mathers fighting for prominence against his alter egos: Eminem, Slim Shady, Kenneth Kaniff and his public image. Don't be fooled by the album title: apart from the eponymous "Marshall Mathers" (which runs the lyrical gamut from maudlin to maniacal) you won't learn too much about "the real Slim Shady" here. As fiction bleeds into reality, Eminem aggravates the wound to increase the flow. The Dr Dre/Mel-Man productions on this record don't have the slap-happy bounce of those from the Slim ShadyLP; all drums and bass, they're ghostly, minimised slabs of roto-funk. Except, of course for the gleefully self-referential single "The Real Slim Shady", for which Dre appropriately cuts in some of the picked-guitar from his own "Forgot About Dre". Eminem's own co-productions with F.B.T. veer from the bounce to the ounce of "Drug Ballad" to the full-metal jacket of "Kim", where you get to find out all the gruesome details of how Eminem's paramour ended up in the back of that trunk (from Slim Shady's"'97 Bonnie and Clyde"). And believe me, it ain't pretty. If anything there's a lesson to be learnt here: money, success, drugs, murderous intent, mental trauma and schizophrenia are all just as American as apple pie. —Chris Campion

Eminem On The Slim Shady LP, Eminem wants it all. He is conflicted, you see; the world has treated him badly, and he wants to respond in kind. But he isn't a straight-up gangsta—this is, after all, the first release on Dr. Dre's Aftermath Records, his post-Death Row-era venture—and Eminem (born Marshall Mathers) doesn't really want anyone to follow in his footsteps, which leads to some interesting contradictions on this album. In the first single, "My Name Is", he's self-deprecating, rapping about his poor upbringing and his hairy palms. But on the very next song, "Guilty Conscience", he plays the devil to Dr. Dre's angel—that is, until Eminem brings up an incident from Dre's devilish past, rapping, "You gonna take advice from someone who slapped Dee Barnes?" Later, on "'97 Bonnie & Clyde", he turns Will Smith's "Just the Two of Us" on its ear, making it a tale of murder; but on "My Fault", he actually feels bad—though whether it's for the girl he overdosed or for himself is tough to figure out. With his nasal Midwestern tone, Mathers has a clean, clear flow, and the production—by Dr. Dre, Marky, and Jeff Bass—is crisp but consistently fun. Eminem has some serious skills, and he makes for some great tunes—but the lyrics are as morally reprehensible as they get. —Randy Silver

Eric Clapton Clapton caught the "unplugged" trend just at the right time, when the public was hungry to hear how well rock stars and their material could hold up when stripped of elaborate production values. Clapton himself seemed baffled by the phenomenon, especially when picking up the armload of Grammys Unpluggedearned him, including Record and Song of the Year for "Tears in Heaven", the heart-rending elegy to his young son, Conor. That song and a reworked version of "Layla" got most of the attention, but the rest of the album has fine versions of acoustic blues numbers such as "Malted Milk", "Rollin'& Tumblin' and "Before You Accuse Me" that make it worth investigating further. —Daniel Durchholz

Evanescence

Evanescence

Faithless Reperspective is essentially a collection of remixes of tracks from the dance trio's third album, Outrospective, plus a handful of previously unreleased tracks; but it is something of a mixed blessing. As a straight-up dance set, it's hard to fault. The dank club funk of new tracks "Daimoku" and "Lotus", and the sinister sci-fi bongo charge of BBC World Cup theme "God Is a Beckham", deliver dance-floor menace as only Faithless can. Elsewhere though, the very things that separate Faithless from the crowd—dark drama, sensual moods and Maxi Jazz's haunting monologues—are lost in favour of the up-scaled BPM. Though capable floor-fillers, UK garage supremo Wookie's rework of "We Come 1" and Ernest St Laurent's glistening disco remix of "Liontamer" have very little of Faithless about them. There are notable exceptions though. The radio edit of the Dido sung "One Step Too Far" is perfect grown-up pop and Brothers on High's rigid house turns "Crazy English Summer" into a hazy club anthem. Meanwhile, P-Nut's low-slung breakbeats, make his hip-hop makeover of "Giving Myself Away" even more grimy than the original, which can only be a good thing. —Mark Daniels

Faithless With a production sound firmly rooted in club culture (Faithless ringleader Rollo was responsible for Felix's dancefloor anthem "Don't You Want Me" and co-conspirator Sister Bliss can claim to be the world's most successful female DJ), Reverenceallies house beats with shades of hip hop, blues, reggae and soul. The majority of the tracks are infused with the rhymes of Buddhist rapper Maxi Jazz, often elegant, sometimes incongruous but always distinctive. The album's breadth of ambition sometimes means Faithless spread themselves too thinly: witness the mediocre acoustic pop of "Don't Leave" and the clicheed sensuality of "If Lovin' You Is Wrong". The band are at their most memorable on the tracks which worked so well on the dancefloor: the housey hi-hats, urgent synths and insistent beats of "Salva Mea" and "Insomnia" will be recalled fondly by many a clubber. —Ed Potton

Fatboy Slim Fatboy Slim has come a long way since his debut album, Better Living Through Chemistry, saw him bring big beat to the masses. His first offering of the new millennium, Halfway Between the Gutter and the Stars was his most ambitious project to date. Married life and impending fatherhood seemed to have made the original party animal grow up, and this was reflected in the new and improved sound—the banging floor-fillers being replaced by a more refined and adult sound, as he teamed up with Bootsy Collins and Macy Gray to bring a fantastic blend of funk and soul to the dance floor. His collaborations with Macy Gray are two of the standout tracks——"Love Life" and "Demons" effortlessly combine funky fluid beats and Macy's distinctive vocals with fantastic results. Jim Morrison even pops up, providing the haunting looped sample for the first single to be taken from the album——"Sunset (Bird of Prey)". Purist fans of his previous output won't be disappointed by his change of direction, as tracks like "Ya Mama" and "Mad Flava" are instantly recognisable as vintage Fatboy Slim—big of beats and samples. The sound of a man growing old disgracefully. —Helen Marquis

Fatboy Slim Biographers of Norman Cook should look no further than the title of this—his second album under the pseudonym Fatboy Slim. From humble beginnings as the bass player in prole rock band The Housemartins, through chart-topping fame with Beats International, and even a spell scraping a meagre living from writing computer game soundtracks in the early 90s, Norman Cook has done it all. You've Come A Long Way, Baby, though, is the Fatboy's culmination; the quintessential, and utterly essential big-beat album. "The Rockafeller Skank" is a manic collage of surf-guitar looped into ever-tightening spirals; utterly simplistic, but a work of devilish genius. "Gangster Tripping" and "Fucking In Heaven" are in a similar celebratory mood, but to prove that the Fatboy doesn't always work by a formula, try the purloined gospel of "Praise You", or the rave nostalgia of "Acid 8000". It's seldom poetry, but dumb dance music doesn't get much better. —Louis Pattison

Feeder That Feeder have produced an album in the same year as the tragic death of their drummer is admirable in itself, but what defies belief is the sheer quality of the songs that make up Comfort in Sound, the band's fourth full-length album. After the exuberant pop (and mainstream success) of 2001's Echo Park, the lyrics here are darker, starker and, much like the Manic Street Preachers' seminal Everything Must Go, intensely personal. From the lush strings and emotional turbulence of "Forget About Tomorrow" to the epic scope and spine-tingling wall of sound that is the title track, this is Yesterday Went Too Soon to the power of Polythene.

"Just the Way I'm Feeling" is classic Feeder (think "Day In Day Out" meets "Undivided", with strings) and has a naked vocal that characterises (and exemplifies) the whole album. "Summer's Gone" plays Muse at their own game (and wins), whereas "Find the Colour" is shameless, glorious pop and a welcome beam of feel-good optimism after the album's stand-out track "Quick Fade"—a heart-wrenching love letter to a much missed friend. The melancholy is inescapable however, because "the love pollution's setting in" ("Love Pollution"—perhaps Nicholas's most perfectly realised song). Only the pointless noise of "Godzilla" blemishes an otherwise perfect record. Mature, sophisticated and epic, Nicholas's design for life has made him one of the most gifted songwriters in Britain today. This is awesome, but devastating. —Ben Johncock

Feeder UK edition of the alternative rocker's third album. Includes the singles, 'Buck Rogers'&'Seven Days in the Sun'. Including a UK exclusive bonus track 'Satellite News'. 2001 release.

Feeder UK reissue of the British pop-metal act's original 1995 mini-album, now with five bonus tracks (b-sides) & two enhanced videos.

Flaming Lips The Flaming Lips are a restless band—their 1994 album, Zaireeka,was released on four separate CDs, the idea being that you played them simultaneously on four separate stereos to benefit from their full effect. The only flaw in this delightful plan is that not very many people have four stereos; but as unquenchably optimistic chief songwriter Wayne Coyne points out, "You could invite all your friends to bring their stereos over and have a happening." Compared to this, Soft Bulletinis as sane as a nun. A paint-box explosion of psychedelia and bubble gum pop——"Race For The Prize" even dented the Top 40 —Soft Bulletinis the sound of a band racing their peers to invent the music of the future. The drums are all "Lust For Life"'s Neanderthal funk; whilst the guitars alternately melt, fry and squeal through the whole psychedelic kaleidoscope. Almost guaranteed to be seminal. —Caitlin Moran

Flaming Lips For so long, The Flaming Lips were indie-rock's Least Likely To's. For more than 10 years, these ever-shifting American psychedelists made some of the oddest records known to man or beast. And with 1993's Transmissions From The Satelite Heartthey had their first hit. "She Don't Use Jelly", the hit in question, is accessible fuzz-guitar psyche-rock; indeed, by Flaming Lips standards, Transmissions...is comparatively normal. True, it still includes songs called "Oh My Pregnant Head (Labia In The Sunlight)" and "Pilotcan At The Queer Of God", but despite the ever-present perverse streaks, the glorious, celebratory crunch of "When Yer Twenty-Two" is the sound of The Flaming Lips finally embracing their listener. Transmissions From The Satellite Heartproved the detractors wrong—this is an album of incandescent loveliness and chemically-assisted good humour. —Louis Pattison

Flaming Lips Good news: the 11th album from the Flaming Lips, Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots, is just as magnificent as its predecessor. 1999's The Soft Bulletinfound this band of Oklahoma acidheads refining their eccentric indie-rock into glittering psychedelic fables. But Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robotssees the band evolve even further into new, uncharted realms. Relying on crisp digital textures over muddy feedback rockouts, these 11 tracks are fully realised modern symphonies, twinkling with vivid orchestral sounds. The album's concept is peculiar in the extreme—a Manga-fied tale of a young Japanese girl warring against mechanical foes. Throughout, though, Wayne Coyne's vocals are warm, honest and heartfelt—no matter how absurd the words he's singing: "She's gotta be strong to fight 'em / So she's eaten lots of vitamins", he warbles sweetly on the title track, as vocoders chirrup in the background. Elsewhere, we find some of the Flaming Lips' most touching songs to date. "Do you realise? / That happiness makes you cry? / That everyone you know someday will die?" goes "Do You Realize" before a sparkling key change hikes the song up into a blub-inducing hymn to positivity. And "In the Morning of the Magicians" is a gentle, balladic rumination on love and empathy. Move over, Burt Bacharach: the spirit of classic songwriting appears to have found a new vessel. —Louis Pattison

Foo Fighters A major criticism of the Foo Fighters' self-titled debut was its supposed lack of, you know, passion among the well-crafted songs and well-crafted rock. This time out, if it's wreckage you want, it's wreckage you get. The Colour and the Shape grows deeper the more it's played, with the band's ripping power more than matched by Dave Grohl's fascinating examinations of pain and divorce. There is even a convincing long slow ballad, "November Stars", whose intensity should win over doubters. If that doesn't work, then the screaming "My Hero" will.—Rickey Wright

Foo Fighters Dave Grohl's sixth album fronting post-grunge rockers Foo Fighters finds him softening his game somewhat, although not in the manner of 2005's In Your Honour, which countered the Foos' stadium metal moves with a second disc of acoustic songs. Rather, Echoes, Silence, Patience and Grace sees Grohl taking cues from his beloved Led Zeppelin, penning a record that incorporates muscular rock shapes with piano ballads ("Statues"), picked acoustic moments ("Come Alive") and free-wheeling, classic-tinged jams like "Summer's End"—a song about romantic dalliances in the "sweet Virginia countryside". While it's undoubtedly a mature sort of record for the Foo Fighters, however, that's not to say that their edge has been blunted. With the band reunited with producer Gil Norton, whose skill for quiet/loud dynamics did a lot for 1997's The Colour and the Shape, tracks like "The Pretender" and "Erase/Replace" are muscular, dynamic rockers that balance subtle, atmospheric moments with epic bursts of rage. The track "Cheer up Boys (Your Make-Up Is Running)", meanwhile, feels like a jibe at the emo hordes who've tried, but failed, to dislodge Grohl's crown. It's the sound of a band growing into middle age gracefully. —Louis Pattison

Foo Fighters

Foo Fighters Inspired by the American public that Dave Grohl met on the trail while campaigning for John Kerry during the 2004 US Election campaign, In Your Honour could easily have fallen flat, a casualty of George W Bush's triumphant return to the Whitehouse. That it isn't is thanks to Grohl's garrulous enthusiasm and skill for songs that vibrate with Everyman optimism - after all, who else in rock could snarl a line like "It's a shame we have to die my dear/ No-one's getting out of here alive" ("DOA") and still sound like they're beaming from ear to ear?

Sprawling across two CDs - one `rock', one `acoustic' - In Your Honour perhaps suffers from the overarching ambitions common to the double album format: despite gems like "Hell" and "The Last Song", the first disc is a little one-paced to hold your attention to the end. The acoustic disc, however, is a surprisingly eclectic success. "Friend Of A Friend", written back in 1992 while Grohl was still drumming in Nirvana, broods with a dark intensity, while the presence of guests Led Zeppelin's John Paul Jones and chanteuse Norah Jones - who duets with Grohl on gently intriguing lounge-jazz number "Virginia Moon" - lend In Your Honour an intriguing extra dimension. —Louis Pattison

Foo Fighters

Foo Fighters Here's Dave Grohl as you've seldom seen him before: not just live, but as the title Skin And Bones may hint, stripped down to his acoustic core. Well actually, not quite. Rather than just Grohl and a six-string, this collection - recorded at the Pantages Theatre in Los Angeles - harks back to the ensemble feel of Nirvana's 1994 album Unplugged In New York, familiar songs rebuilt by the Foos and a cast of musicians including violinist Petra Haden, keyboardist Rami Jaffee and even a member of that now legendary Nirvana session, Pat Smear. Stripped of the anthemic breeziness and solid, muscular riffing that have become Foo trademarks, Skin And Bones relies more on prettifying the arrangements with strings, shakers and slow splashes of cymbal, and occasionally uncovering new levels of pathos beneath the sweat and grit. "Walking After You" feels custom-written for this format, while the crescendos of "My Hero" gain a little more humanity in this more intimate setting. And when the bigger hits come, Grohl makes up for the absence of feedback and fireworks with sheer frontman charisma, summoning up some throaty Springsteen emotiveness on "Best Of You" and climaxing with a heroic "Everlong". —Louis Pattison

Foo Fighters Just what is it that you do when the world catches up with you? Dave Grohl's pre-Foo Fighters career was about rebellion and breaking moulds, whether it was in Washington DC hardcore bands (Mission Impossible, Scream) or in Nirvana. When he stepped out from behind the drum kit and put out Foo Fighters, Grohl revealed a nifty knack for a tune and great ear for a guitar riff (and the drumming was still among the best around). He kept it up for the band's second album and the There Is Nothing Left To Lose is firmly in the same vein. That can be a good thing—there are no stinkers here—but after a pair of successful albums that have established him firmly as a talent in his own right, Grohl sometimes feels like he's on autopilot. (And the drumming, for a change, is unremarkable.) Maybe the album should have been called There's Nothing Left To Prove. —Randy Silver

Frames

Frames You're three tracks into The Cost before you find a song, "The Rise," that opens with anything but singer Glen Hansard's voice as the first thing you hear. The beauty is, you're waiting for the voice, with its hints of Cat Stevens's tonality and its utterly distinct Irish lift. It's Hansard that provides the Frames with such a rising vibe, the sense of a band always lifting off, pressed higher by Colm Mac An Iomaire's violin. Mac An Iomaire's strings slip and slide in the thickets of guitar, playing exceptional cat and mouse both when the guitars are clear and crisp and when they're crashing furiously. The Frames wouldn't claim to write epic tunes, but over and over the songs build toward ecstatic sonic events. Witness the hushed open to "People Get Ready" how it morphs into a violin and guitar-grit blast of wind-blown energy or the distortion-scoured hum behind Hansard's lone voice on "True" launching a languorous, piano-driven backdrop as the singer lets loose a first-class yowl—the stuff of anguished beauty. —Andrew Bartlett

Frames Dc

The Frames

The Frames Unavailable in the U.S.! Dance The Devil is the third album from this Dublin, Ireland-based band led by former Commitments co-star Glen Hansard, who would later gain fame in the critically successful music-based film Once. In the U.S., the band changed their name to The Frames D.C. to avoid confusion with an American band who were using the same moniker (and where are they now?). On Dance The Devil, Hansard provides the band with another plate full of great songs that are played by the band with passion and gusto. 11 tracks. ZTT Records.

The Frames

The Frames Few albums are rich enough with a sense of place that they transport you to a different landscape. Engineered by famed producer Steve Albini, the Frames' fourth full-length release, For the Birds, is such an album. But instead of dropping you in Ireland, the band's home, or in any other physical location, For the Birds lures the listener to an interior terrain both familiar and remote. Without a single throwaway track, this album deftly escapes pathos, despite its focus on clichéd indie-pop themes of heartache and loss. A slow pulse-like bass line, rueful violin, mesmerizing guitar, and precise percussion underscore but never underplay Glen Hansard's stripped-bare vocals and lyrics. Hansard asks, "So what happens when the heart just stops / Stops caring for anyone?" He answers, "The hollow in your chest dries up / And you stop believing," a response dispelled as too facile by subsequent tracks. "Headlong" and "Santa Maria" nosedive into torment while "Early Bird," "Fighting on the Stairs," and "Friends and Foe" pull out. You're left in the middle of a swirl of conflicted emotions. What's remarkable is that For the Birds, rife with mental rifts and ditches, somehow convinces you that you want to stay there. —Cintra Pollack

The Frames

The Frames Late in November of 2002 The Frames played four nights in Vicar Street, Dublin to capacity audiences. These gigs were recorded & the highlights have found their way on to their first official live album, 'Set List'. The Irish indie rock band were awarded 'best live band' by the readers of Hotpress in 2002. 13 tracks in digipak format. Plateau. 2003.

Frank Sinatra

Frank Sinatra My Way: the Best of Frank Sinatracollects 46 tracks culled from the estimable American singer's vast back-catalogue for a remarkable two-CD set. Sinatra was one of the greatest voices of his—or any—generation, and for the most part, these songs are some of Old Blue Eyes' finest works: among the best are "Come Fly with Me", "Lady Is a Tramp" and "I Get a Kick out of You".

But with such an immense and classic back-catalogue of songs to choose from, it's a shame that the compilers felt it necessary to add so much cheese: "Bad, Bad Leroy Brown" and "Mrs Robinson", for example, don't do Sinatra, the songs, or the listener any justice. Still, that's why CD players have "skip" buttons. —Robert Burrow

Franz Ferdinand Touted as being the first great album of 2004, Franz Ferdinand's eponymous debut may be the secret weapon that'll kick-start the British fight against the White Strokes. Though they have a reputation as being bohemian art-obsessed dilettantes, they're at the vanguard of the Art Wave scene, and possess a fierce determination to change the face of modern music—their twin aims: to bring back cerebral rock that makes you want to dance, and to bring frontline music back home (witness exclusively British lyrics such as "I'm on BBC 2 now; telling Terry Wogan how I made it"). So what weapons do these four skinny lads engage to galvanise the UK music scene? Unsurprisingly, they roll out the big guns of Britpop past. "Cheating on You" bounces like early Blur;"Come on Home" soars like pre-OK ComputerRadiohead;"Michael" flirts with Suede-esque sexual androgyny; and "Matinee" sleazes onto you like Pulp at their most lascivious.

Though they draw on the past, they do so wisely, injecting voguish angular 80s synth-pop with old-fashioned heart and soul. Their debut embraces the experimental, featuring time-signature changes and mid-song tempo drops, yet its solidity prevents it from consignment to the gratuitously quirky bin. If you feel that the Rapture lack a sense of drama and Interpol lack joy and energy, then Franz Ferdinand are the boys for you. Their stated ambition is to erase the Archduke Franz Ferdinand from the annals of history and replace him in the collective consciousness with themselves. Archduke who? —Paul Eisinger

Fugees Their remake of "Killing Me Softly" was the hit, but that's only the beginning of the story. A hip-hop trio whose talents reach out into the world of the pop song (Wyclef Jean is a fine guitar player, and Lauryn Hill's a heck of a singer), the Fugees are also all distinctive, inventive rappers—you find yourself waiting for each of them to take the next verse in turn. The beats are the familiar crossed-armed boom-bip, but the group's understated grooves and subtle effects lie low in the mix. Aside from two kicky covers of classics (the other is Marley's "No Woman, No Cry"), The Score's focus is on the stars' rhyming with the free-form grace of performance poets and showing that they have thought deeply about the issues they raise. —Douglas Wolk

Fun Lovin' Criminals Japanese Version featuring Two Bonus Tracks: "Fisty Nuts" and "Shining Star".

Fun Lovin' Criminals

Garbage Garbage's third album is an almost total departure for modern rock's renowned poster children. Shirley Manson, Butch Vig, Duke Erickson, and Steve Marker robustly straddled the line between alternative rock and techno in their two efforts, whipping up two finely crafted CDs that captured the cultural mood of the late '90s. After six years in the saddle, they've shaken off the charge that they're a producer's creation and have emerged as a full-blown band. The band has also given up all pretext at being au courant and topical, instead combining '80s kitsch with '70s pop, with a stop along the way to worship at the altars of Phil Spector and Chrissie Hynde and even at times arriving at their own version of nu soul. "Shut Your Mouth" is raw and menacing and does as much for female empowerment as a Missy Elliott hit. "Can't Cry These Tears Anymore" is a modern take on Leslie Gore's "It's My Party (And I'll Cry If I Want To), but with all the strangeness of Glenn Close in Fatal Attraction. If there is a single theme to Beautiful Garbage(named after a line in a Courtney Love song), it's that smart girls don't put all their faith in love. The heroine in most of these 13 songs would rather kick a faithless lover in the, er, shins with her stilettos than pine by the phone. The "Stupid Girl" of the band's debut is now just a stupid memory. —Jaan Uhelszki

Garbage Cool, calculating, and Euro-trashy in the grand tradition of Roxy Music and the Eurythmics. —Jeff Bateman

Garbage It's not that Garbage is doing anything particularly new. At times, singer Shirley Manson borrows Chrissie Hynde's phrasing, Patti Smith's rock beat poetry, and Brian Wilson's chorus from "Don't Worry Baby." But producer Butch Vig provides a modern sheen to Version 2.0 that makes it sound fresh and distinctly modern. Purists may blanch—the album is a hybrid of rock guitars, dance rhythms, and pop choruses—but songs such as "I Think I'm Paranoid" (a rip of Elastica) and "The Trick Is to Keep Breathing" (Depeche Mode, without the chill) sound great no matter what they're called. —Keith Moerer

Gemma Hayes Night On My Sideis the debut album from Gemma Hayes. With her lazy southern drawl and a beaten and bruised collection of broken-hearted country, Gemma should by rights have grown-up in hick town America, not Tipperary, Ireland. Indeed, with its campfire laments on life, love and escape, Night On My Sideisn't a million dusty miles from the dead-beat introspection of Texan cowgirl-slacker Shea Seger's debut, The May Street Project.

A solitary soul laid bare, the tender plod of "Day One", fragile hope and honesty of "My God" and "Over & Over"'s drowsy regret are not so much cathartic venting, as late night diary confessions and captured moments. It's not what she says, but the passion with which she says it that makes her songs so phenomenally poignant. Aided by Mercury Rev and Flaming Lips producer Dave Fridmann, she doesn't just tell tales, she conjures full-blooded emotions. The details of "Back Of My Hand"'s unrequited love are irrelevant, it's the sinking feeling that counts. And when the Radiohead strength chorus crashes into "Let A Good Thing Go", and the speaker tearing white noise and guitar overdrive erupt in "Lucky One" they deliver a sense of loss like no words ever could. —Dan Gennoe

Glen Hansard, Marketa Irglova Even those allergic to musicals may be won over by Once, a tender-hearted Irish romance with songs by Czech Republic-born Markéta Irglová and Frames frontman Glen Hansard (the film's director, John Carney, actually used to play bass in the group). The trick here is that Irglová and Hansard also play the leads; because their characters are shown busking, writing music, or rehearsing, the songs are smoothly integrated in the film. The overall acoustic mood won't surprise fans of the Frames—some tracks ("Say It to Me", "When Your Mind's Made Up") have even popped up on the band's albums, though the arrangements are more pared-down here, befitting the scruffy, street-musician setting. Being the lesser-known entity, Irglová feels like a revelation; she sounds a bit like a folkie Björk on "If You Want Me," and her song "The Hill" is downright heartbreaking. Irglová and Hansard had already made the 2006 album The Swell Season together, so their collaboration here feels really organic—they sound particularly good together on the title track, for instance. Now that's the kind of magic you want from musicals. —Elisabeth Vincentelli

Goldfrapp Goldfrapp's Black Cherryinhabits a dark alley, bristling with urban menace and throbbing with a deep electronic pulse—a far cry from their breezy debut, which gently led the listener to a fairytale aural utopia occupied by Parisian pop, whistling divas and baroque masters.

Having given up the countryside for a neon-lit studio, Alison Goldfrapp and Will Gregory have infused Black Cherrywith an intensity and brooding claustrophobia that's both exuberant and sensual. Simultaneously mellifluous and mechanical, tracks such as "Train" with its fiery industrial rhythm steer Goldfrapp dangerously close to the ailing electro-clash scene, before veering back to more familiar territory with the likes of the sultry, downbeat "Black Cherry" and languid dreamy ambience of "Forever". Elsewhere our Hampshire-bred heroine gets deep down and dirty on "Twist", an ode to oral that finds Goldfrapp waxing lyrical to a fierce driving Kraftewerk-esq synth: "Before you go and leave this town/I want to see you one more time/ put your dirty angel face/ between my legs and make it last. No Felt Mountainto get lost in, but at least there's "Hairy Trees" to make up for it. —Christopher Barrett

Goldfrapp You might expect the debut album from a woman who has collaborated extensively with Tricky and Orbital to be both wondrous and strange—and you'd be right to. What you might not expect is quite the depth of Alison Goldfrapp's beguiling, distracting 21st-Century noir visions on Felt Mountain. She and her fellow composer Will Gregory can mix in Brechtian cabaret, classical instrumentation, left-of-field electronics, decadent Gainsbourg-style French pop and the odd piece of whistling on just one track ("Felt Mountain"). "Oompa Radar" almost reaches Tom Waits heights of infamy, the way familiar instruments come together in such a simultaneously comforting and alienating style. The baroque "Paper Bag", meanwhile, uncannily recalls Joe Meek's toytown visions of 1960's grandeur. All this, and a seductive vocal to die for. —Everett True

Gomez In 1998, Gomez burst onto the music scene from out of nowhere and picked up the prestigious Mercury Music prize for their debut album, Bring It On. Hailing from Liverpool, this five-piece band of gawky youths seem to be the very antithesis of traditional rock stars, but their appearance and heritage belie their rich and rootsy sound: their combination of Ben Ottewell's gravely voice and slide guitar conjure up images of the American South, especially on singles "Whippin' Piccadilly" and "Get Myself Arrested". Combining a soul sensitivity with a pop sensibility, Gomez constructed one of the most stunning debuts of the 1990's. —Carina Trimingham

Goo Goo Dolls

Green Day This compilation of early indie work (1989's 1000 Hours EP, 1990's Slappy EP, and 1990's 39/Smooth LP) was a strong indicator of things to come for Green Day. Recorded on shoestring budgets, these recordings out-rocked most of the wannabe punk records that flooded record stores at the time. From the first strains of the opener, "At the Library", Green Day are off on a fast, fun ride. Some of the band's best tracks are from these early sessions——"Don—"Don't Leave Me", "Dry Ice", "16", "Rest", and "Paper Lanterns", to name only a few. It's a hook-filled record with three-chord wonders at every turn, anchored by Armstrong's snotty-boy vocals. He captures youthful yearning, variously spitting lyrics like "I feel forgotten / Feel like rotting" and then musing out loud, "What is it about you that I adore?" Simply some of the catchiest punk rock ever made. —Lorry Fleming

Green Day There's a clenched fist grasping a heart-shaped hand grenade on the cover of American Idiot, a militant mural presumably designed to inform us that Californian punk-pop vets Green Day love America but hate what's becoming of it. Inferences aside, you could argue that American Idiotis a suspect device—a punk concept album/rock opera primed to blow up in the faces of the ruling right-wing American classes but which could just as easily leave splattered egg on the faces of the insurrectionists. The concept is fuzzy (telly-brainwashed teenage runaway falls in with the wrong crowd, something or other happens with drugs, rock and a character called "Whatsername") and the political protestations against the metaphorical Arrnies and Dubyas are mere slapstick custard pies compared with the Dead Kennedys' CIA-bothering debunking of Reaganomics. However, something about American Idiotboth excites and rings true whilst simultaneously beggaring belief. Spanning influences from The Who's Tommyto Husker Du's Zen Arcade, American Idiothas the listener living in cliff-hanging fear of an unexpected Richie Blackmore guitar solo or Tarkus-style ELP exposition but actually never strays from Buzzcockian melodiousness or phlegm-drenched rifferama even when things get ridiculous. "Homecoming", for example, is probably the best amalgamation of The Clash, Pink Floyd's The Wall, Millwall football supporters terrace chants, Deep Purple, The Levellers, Bob Mould, UK Subs, Rush, Pete Townsend and The Tubes you'll ever hear. American Idiotcould be brave or it could be stupid, but it really can't be ignored. —Kevin Maidment

Green Day Punk had flirted with mainstream attention before—the Clash and Sex Pistols had hits—but didn't fully advance from the underground until this pure-punk 1994 album. In singing catchy, tight rock & roll tunes—including "Longview", "Welcome to Paradise" and "When I Come Around"—Green Day sneered its way into the hearts of millions. The Berkeley, California, trio also ignited a debate: Is it selling out for punks to sign with a major record label and become multi-platinum stars? Fortunately, this band didn't seem to care as much as Kurt Cobain did. —Steve Knopper

Green Day

Green Day

Green Day Nimrodcame along two years after 1995's Insomniacand was the first indication of Green Day's willingness to stretch the boundaries of punk rock. The fullness of the record is first hinted at on "Hitchin' a Ride", which starts out chug-a-lugging and then breaks into a raging rocker. "Redundant" is accented with some psyched-out guitar work and has Billie Joe Armstrong singing a good deal more than usual. The wonderful "Platypus (I Hate You)" speed-rocks with abandon and recalls the early days of L.A. punk (a little Dickies here, a little Descendents there). The biting "Take it Back" is a snarling throwback to hard punk, and "Prosthetic Head" is an infectious ditty that counts among the very best on the album. Most surprising is "Last Ride In", an instrumental nod to the sensual surf-and-sun life. Of course, the crown jewel of the collection is the sentimental, acoustic "Good Riddance (Time of Your Life)", which seemed nearly inescapable when it was released. Beyond these standouts, even the "usual" Green Day fare here has punch. —Lorry Fleming

Green Day After two years off following the release of the genre-expanding Nimrod, the usually insouciant trio Green Day are open to some weighty self-analysis. Gone are the raging rants, cartoonish antics, and anthropological musings about the punk scene, replaced by an introspection that brings to mind Michael Stipe and Bono. Like the U2 frontman, Billie Joe Armstrong still hasn't found what he's looking for, but he knows where he's been and is eager to move past the days when Green Day were considered the clown princes of rock. Witness "Jackass", which cautions, "Everybody loves a joke, but no one likes a fool". Proving that they aren't fools, Green Day take a substantial step forward, exploring new rhythms, sonics and subjects. While many of the tracks are still cheeky and infectious, the deceptively simple melodies belie a quest for meaning, faith and fulfilment. There's a tentative optimism here that's tempered by irony and flashes of self-loathing. Still, Warningtranscends the darkness that clouded 1995's Insomniac. No longer so under the sway of the Buzzcocks and the Ramones, this time Armstrong and company dip into the early rock canon—the Beatles and Bob Dylan, among them. As a result, their first self-produced album is more "Nowhere Man" than "Blitzkrieg Bop". —Jaan Uhelszki

Groove Armada Tom Findlay and Andy Cato have steadily been dismantling their chill-out crown ever since the single "At The River" saw them float into coffee-table ubiquity. Loveboxfinally stretches the duo's eclectic tastes beyond any semblance of continuity or restraint, finishing the job started on last year's Goodbye Country (Hello Nightclub).

Named after Groove Armada's bi-monthly London club night, the duo's fourth album captures the excitement and diversity of pace you would expect from a masterful DJ set. While the opening track "Purple Haze" doesn't have a sniff of Hendrix's majestic histrionics, it is certainly Groove Armada's most rock & roll moment to date. Neneh Cherry lends her sultry voice to the lusty funk-fuelled hip-hop of "Groove Is On" and the urban soul of "Think Twice", and "Remember", with its languorous beat and swirling effects, nods toward their down-beat prime.

Feisty dance-floor shakers are here in force though. "Madder", mixing the raps of MC M.A.D. with a pulsating bass and itchy guitar hook, kicks hard, and "The Final Shakedown" is an undiluted house anthem, albeit with a feisty ragga vocal. But one of the most surprising tracks is the rich, soul-drenched sophistication of "Hands of Time", a gorgeous reflection on love lost featuring the spine-tingling voice of Woodstock folk legend Richie Havens. Loveboxis a disarmingly eclectic album, its infectious, maverick, party spirit defying preconceptions. —Christopher Barrett

Groove Armada Though both Groove Armada's Tom Findlay and Andy Cato hail from London, the pair choose to kick back to Ambleside in Cumbria when recording. As with a great deal of dance music through the 1990s, though broadly still considered house, the sound of Vertigotakes as much from the jaded, trip-hop of Bristol as it does from the uplifting house of Studio 54. It is this collusion which defines the LP with the vocal of "In My Bones" ruffled by a techno low end while the chugging backbeats of "Chicago" act to set off a delicate Chic-esque guitar. With an ear for spine-tingling samples lending a gentle weight to what would otherwise be innocuous instrumentals, the crumpled breaks of "At The River" perhaps offer the best example of this, and even the more straightforward forays into the genre are enlivened and enriched by broad influences, the pair have created a modern day classic.—Kingsley Marshall

Guns n' Roses This is a glimpse of the future—and not because of its huge influence and umpteen million sales. The poor-little-rich-boy protest "Out ta Get Me" intimates that Axl Rose's egotism and martyr complex were soon to grow bigger than his head; still, Appetite's night-train wreck of punk and metal sounds and sensibilities make it more than just an emblem of its time. Whether GN'R are dancing with "Mr. Brownstone", penning a callow kiss-off letter to some chick named "Michelle", or passing out on somebody else's sofa, this was and remains a savage journey to the heart of the American—or at least the Hollywood—dream. —Rickey Wright

Guns n' Roses Part one of Guns N' Roses' ambitious second album is arguably the better of the two. It certainly rocks harder, though this seems to be more coincidence than anything else; which songs went on which CD looks to have been a random selection. Use Your Illusion Istays closer to the band's bluesy hard-rock roots, with guitarist Izzy Stradlin contributing some of the best songs, including "Dust N' Bones" and "You Ain't the First". "November Rain" (clocking in at over nine minutes) became an instant classic, and there are a fair number of straight-ahead rockers, such as "Perfect Crime", "Don't Damn Me", and "Garden of Eden". Taking the best from this album and Use Your Illusion IIwould have made a killer single CD, but there's enough good stuff here to make it worthwhile.—Genevieve Williams

Guns n' Roses Had Use Your Illusion IIbeen combined with Use Your Illusion I, keeping only the best material while dropping the filler, it would have been one of the best rock albums ever recorded. Instead, great songs like "Civil War", "14 Years", "Estranged", and "So Fine" compete with the inexcusable "Get in the Ring" and the well-intentioned but off-target cover of "Knockin' on Heaven's Door". There's no point to the second version of "Don't Cry", either. On the other hand, when Guns N' Roses were good, they were very, very good, and some of the material on this album is unsurpassable. —Genevieve Williams

Hepburn

Ian Brown Canadian edition of the ex-Stone Roses frontman's third solo album. 9 tracks in all including 'Stardust', 'The Gravy Train'&'Bubbles'.

Ian Brown Collection of remixes, B-sides and exclusive unreleased versions from the Music Of The Spheres album (2001). Includes mixes from UNKLE, Nightmares On Wax and Freelance Hellraiser. Polydor. 2002.

Ian Brown Former Stone Roses front man Ian Brown's first solo album, Unfinished Monkey Businessis a lo-fi indie offering. A raw, slightly unfinished feel pervades throughout, which can probably be attributed to Brown's insistence on playing even those instruments with which he is not really an expert, lending the album an irresistible unrefined ambience. Brown and co-writer Aziz Ibrahim, who was briefly John Squire's replacement in the Roses, draw on influences from the East with the use of tabla on tracks such as "Sunshine". There are also guest appearances by ex-Roses colleagues Reni (drums) and Mani (bass) on third single "Can't See Me", and Primal Scream/ Electronic chanteuse Denise Johnson on the fabulously unhinged "Lions". While there are a few misguided and self-indulgent noisy meanderings——"What Happened to Ya Part 2", for example—this is a great debut, notwithstanding the constant jibes at John Squire, whose dreary album with The Seahorses this eclipses on every count. —Ronita Dutta

Idlewild Having spent the majority of their career languishing in the middle of indie's second division, churning out superior angular guitar pop to mild acclaim, Idlewild use The Remote Partto make a bid for promotion to the grown-up's league. UK Top 10 single "You Held the World in Your Arms" luxuriates in a widescreen confidence and love of grand gestures that had previously eluded the Scottish four-piece and sibilant single "American English" is bigger still, an anthem penned with lighter waving and the absurdity of universal truths in mind. REM are still an obvious role model for Roddy Woomble and team, with songs like "(I Am) What I Am Not" and "Tell Me 10 Words" recalling Document's similar shift in gear. Alas, Woomble is sometimes a little too in thrall to Michael Stipe's obtuse wordplay, hiding behind lines like "losing isn't learning to be lost, it's learning to know when you're lost" when he should, by his own admission, "sing a song about himself, not some invisible woman." Minor gripes aside, though, The Remote Partfinds Idlewild in excellent form, buzzing with ambition, energy and intelligence, broadening out their style to take in the acoustics of "I Never Wanted", the fuzzed up rock of "A Modern Way" and even a poetry reading on "In Remote Part". —Ian Watson

James Blunt As a piece of propaganda, James Blunt's album Back to Bedlam does more for changing the face of the British Army than a series of television adverts ever could. Swapping a rifle for a guitar, the former cavalryman's ballad-heavy debut is a clearly aiming to win the battle for the public's hearts and minds. The success of singles like "You're Beautiful" and "No Bravery" (inspired by his time stationed in Bosnia) are both heartfelt and sensitive, the latter packing an additional emotional punch beyond the typical lovelorn ballads of his contemporaries like Damien Rice. But Blunt also sings with conviction about matters of the heart, and that's the territory that most of Back to Bedlam visits, with songs of loss like "Goodbye My Lover", "So Long Jimmy" and "Billy". And throughout, the arrangements remain understated yet effective, thanks to the input of such heavyweight producers and songwriters like Linda Perry and Guy Chambers. All of which prove that there's a lot of depth to this modern, musical hero. —Robert Burrow

James Horner The 1997 Academy Award winner for Best Dramatic Score, James Horner's Titanic was the first soundtrack to reach the No. 1 slot on the Billboard charts in two decades; it also seemed to rival the Big Mac in sales for the year. And what can we say about Celine Dion's "My Heart Will Go On"; would "ubiquitous" suffice? Horner's combination of synths, chorale, and orchestra perfectly underscores the action in director James Cameron's 20th-century melodrama. It's a finely honed piece of Hollywood craftsmanship from a composer who has tackled more musically adventuresome projects in his career. FYI: Horner's follow-up to Titanic was the score for a different disaster: Deep Impact. —Jerry McCulley

Jeff Buckley Here's what they say about Jeff Buckley: "He died too young". Here's why they say it: Graceis simply one of the most amazing things you can do with your ears and a little digitally-encoded disc. He inherited the voice of his father, the legendary Tim Buckley—seven octaves, each of them only just enough to cram his big feverish dreams into—but his music was all his own. Think Van Morrison's Astral Weekson drugs—but then drugs could give some kind of comfort, and there's no comfort in Grace; just constant flux between crippling despair and an almost violent joy. When "Last Goodbye" unfolds it's third different middle-eight of Bollywood strings and Buckley's ecstatic scatting, it's hard to believe an ordinary human could have had a hand in something so extraordinary. —Caitlin Moran

Jeff Buckley Perhaps the most talented "son act" in pop music, Jeff Buckley combined the often harrowing eclecticism of estranged papa Tim Buckley with the rock acrobatics of Robert Plant. This posthumously released collection of four-track demos and sessions helmed by Tom Verlaine indicates that Buckley's astonishing full-length debut, Grace, was no fluke. The young singer-songwriter puts his falsetto to good use on an extraordinary collection of original material, from the soulful "Everybody Wants You" to the psychedelic "Murder Suicide Meteor Slave". And while his bluesy take on Porter Wagoner's "Satisfied Mind" may not be as revelatory as his earlier version of Leonard Cohen's "Hallelujah", this album offers ample proof that Buckley was among his generation's most gifted voices. —Bill Forman

Jimi Hendrix Experience Hendrix brings together the major singles with a stack of majestic album tracks and the career-defining live Woodstock version of "The Star Spangled Banner" on a fat 20-tracker. While best used as a sampler to direct new listeners to the immortal Are You Experienced, Electric Ladyland, and so on, the CD (which supplants the short-lived Ultimate Experience collection) does hang together as a listen. Its blend of Hendrix the rocker and Hendrix the underrated soul man is suggestive, painting a picture of a multifaceted genius and transcending its plainly mercenary origins. In the end, its effect—like that of all Hendrix's best records—is to remind us of a Jimi very, very much alive. —Rickey Wright

John Lennon The song "Imagine" is so much a part of our culture, it is impossible not to feel something for the album that shares its title. It's also difficult to remember that there are other great tracks here: "How Do You Sleep" is fascinating in its pure, unadulterated bitchiness towards Lennon's former bandmate Paul McCartney, while "Jealous Guy" is undeniably sweet. It is at times brilliant, but Imagineis hardly the greatest and most important album ever. So why bother re-releasing it? Well, it's been "remastered and remixed", but don't expect reworkings by Orbital or Mint Royale (not a bad idea come to think of it), because this Imaginesounds pretty much the same as it ever has. The thing is, it's now so steeped in history, will anyone really judge the songs on their own merit, or just decide to like them because they've been told they should? —Emma Johnston

John Lennon

John Lennon

Johnny Cash In 1994 Cash stunned the music world with this commanding collection of 13 solo acoustic performances that roll from gospel to cowboy to sarcastic folk. Minimalism had long been Cash's meal ticket, but this time around, producer Rick Rubin stripped it allaway, recording the bulk of the record in Cash's cabin or his own living room (two cuts were captured live at the Viper Room in front of an emphatic audience). Cash offers five typically direct and vivid originals, but he also seizes control of songs by Kris Kristofferson, Nick Lowe, Leonard Cohen, Tom Waits and Loudon Wainwright. 40 years after "Hey Porter", Cash delivers a pure, naked, and incredibly moving record that, dare we say, rivals the impact of his greatest achievements. —Marc Greilsamer

Johnny Cash

Johnny Cash

Johnny Cash

Johnny Cash On first thought, the idea of the Man in Black recording such covers as "Bridge over Troubled Water", "Danny Boy" and "The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face" might seem odd, even for an artist who's been able to put his personal stamp on just about everything. But The Man Comes Around, which also draws on Cash's original songs as well as those by Nine Inch Nails ("Hurt"), Sting ("I Hung My Head") and Depeche Mode ("Personal Jesus"), may be one of the most autobiographical albums of the 70-year-old singer-songwriter's career. Nearly every tune seems chosen to afford the ailing giant of popular music a chance to reflect on his life, and look ahead to what's around the corner. From the opening track—Cash—Cash's own "The Man Comes Around", filled with frightening images of Armageddon—the album, produced by Rick Rubin, advances a quiet power and pathos, built around spare arrangements and unflinching honesty in performance and subject. In 15 songs, Cash moves through dark, haunted meditations on death and destruction, poignant farewells, testaments to everlasting love, and hopeful salutes to redemption. He sounds as if he means every word, his baritone-bass, frequently frayed and ravaged, taking on a weary beauty. By the time he gets to the Beatles'"In My Life", you'll very nearly cry. Go ahead. He sounds as if he's about to, too. —Alanna Nash

Johnny Cash

Johnny Cash As the title suggests, this is the third of the albums that Cash has recorded since his career was resuscitated in 1993 by a fortuitous coming together with Def American founder Rick Rubin. Though Rubin was principally famous as a hip-hop producer, he brought out the best in Cash, having the sense to strip the recordings back to the bare minimum needed to support Cash's peerless voice. The first two records they made together, American Recordingsand Unchainedwere two of the best albums of Cash's long and incalculably influential career, and Solitary Manis better than either. The album is about evenly split between Cash originals and covers of traditional songs that have influenced him, and newer material clearly written under his influence. His own songs embrace both the unabashed spiritualism of his under-regarded gospel recordings ("Field Of Diamonds", "Before My Time") and his eternal fascination with the rural America he was born into ("Country Trash"), and they are just great. The real gems, however, are the covers. Though Cash could now bring a baleful, Old Testament portent to "I Should Be So Lucky", his knelling baritone finds a hundred new shades of black in Neil Diamond's "Solitary Man", Nick Cave's "The Mercy Seat" and, most surprisingly but most effectively, U2's "One". —Andrew Mueller

Johnny Cash The first four songs on Unchainedcome from the songbooks of Beck, Don Gibson, Soundgarden, and Jimmie Rodgers. What might look like absurdly unsupportable eclecticism in other artists, of course, is pretty much standard stuff for Cash. Unchainedis hardly standard, though; it's more like the best album he's made since his 1984 departure from Columbia Records. Not only is this a stack of songs perfectly and idiosyncratically suited to the man, they're given door-rattling backing treatment by Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers, who prove as fitting for Cash's music as his own Tennessee Two were. —Rickey Wright

Justin Timberlake Common wisdom dictates that a debut album be given an autobiographical slant, so it's hard not to believe that Justified, Justin Timberlake's first non-*N Sync outing, doesn't purloin much of its subject matter from the singer's break-up with Britney Spears. Half of the songs are about the abrupt severing of a romance and the singer's rather hardhearted stance. Sure he may have been the wronged party, but that doesn't excuse the inflexible emotional posture revealed in "Cry Me a River", "Never Again", and the sniping "Last Night". He also appears to feel warranted in partaking in the salubrious joys of a swinging single life then boasting about it, since many of the songs seem to be almost gratuitously lascivious. Lines such as "I could think of a couple positions for you" from "Right for Me", and "Better have you naked by the end of this song" from "Rock Your Body" will catapult Timberlake right off Radio Disney. But Timberlake shines when he moonwalks into more adult terrain, turning his back on the innocent dance-pop that put *N Sync in the charts. With the help of hip-hop producers the Neptunes, Timbaland and P Diddy, Timberlake has turned out a remarkably cohesive and sophisticated slice of radio-friendly R&B. —Jaan Uhelszki

The Killers The Killers might hail from one of the USA's most quintessentially American cities (Las Vegas), but their debut album Hot Fuss displays an Anglophilic streak that is an ocean wide. Steeped in the back-catalogue of the Smiths and Pulp, with broad 80s synth sweeps cloaking each tale of fraught metrosexual romance, this band clearly rate the swoon over the swagger. Still, this is almost entirely an upbeat record, one made for the packed club than the smoky VIP room; in particular "On Top", "Somebody Told Me" and "Mr Brightside" are tremendous examples of breathless indie-pop that gallop along like a lovestuck heartbeat with frontman Brandon Flowers gasping for breath on the claustrophobic disco floor. This is, inarguably, what the Killers do best. Even when they deviate from form they've got a few neat ideas—see the gospel choir that echoes back Flowers' repeated exclamation "I've got soul/ But I'm not a soldier" on "All These Things I've Done", or the self-consciously epic "Indie Rock'n'Roll", delivered by the Killers with all the fireworks and gusto of a curtain-closing Broadway showtune. —Louis Pattison

Kings Of Leon Already on course to be one of the year's biggest sellers, Only By the Night has sealed Kings of Leon's unlikely position as Britain's favourite American rock band. The Followill brothers (and cousin) have always been tagged as part of a southern rock tradition of family bands such as the Allmans and Lynyrd Skynyrd, a label they vehemently refuted. But the skinny lads certainly looked like a classic rock act, even as they took musical inspiration from indie contemporaries The Strokes and eighties new wave acts such as The Cure and New Order. Only By the Night is effectively a sequel to 2006's terrific Because of the Times, their third record and the first where they nailed their own sound, a striking amalgam of bluesy vocals and post-punk primitivism. In comparison Only By the Night consolidates rather than advances their style. The appropriately incoherent "Sex on Fire", already a chart topping single, is catchy but sounds lightweight next to songs like the fierce "Crawl" and the stadia-ready "Cold Desert" and "Manhattan". The dissonant, almost amateurish "17" is most out of place, though Caleb Followill still bawls it with the same passion he brings to even the clumsiest couplet. More notable are several sparse romantic pleas that often borrow licks from classic Southern soul. The yearning "I Want You" is little more than its title, but it certainly convinces, while "Revelry" and the vulnerable "Use Somebody" show signs of impending maturity. Only By the Night's simplicity certainly has a wide appeal. —Steve Jelbert

Kiss With their 1976 album Destroyer, the band's fifth release in two years, Kiss began to expand their fan base by shedding a bit of their edge and taking on a more melodic, less menacing image. The Peter Criss ballad "Beth", written for the drummer's wife, is the most sentimental love ballad the group ever recorded, and songs like "Detroit Rock City" and "Shout It Out Loud" had the kind of arena-rock punch that kept subscriptions to the Kiss Army at an all-time high. Despite, or perhaps because of, the blatantly commercial direction the band seemed to be heading in, 1976 was the most creatively rewarding period in its lengthy career. In addition to releasing Destroyer, the band pumped out the equally touted album Rock and Roll Over, which included the pounding "Take Me" and the groovin' "Calling Dr Love". The only finer year was 1978, when the band starred in the classic B-grade flick Kiss Meets the Phantom of the Park. —Jon Wiederhorn

Lauryn Hill After the massive success of the Fugees' The Score, the popularity of any Refugee Camp solo project was guaranteed. No one, however, was prepared for the massive response to Lauryn Hill's debut album. Apart from the chart-topping singles "Doo Wop (That Thing)" and "Everything Is Everything", the album includes collaborations with D'Angelo, Carlos Santana and soul diva Mary J Blige. Her unique blend of Motown vocals and hip hop proved remarkably addictive, and the tracks are sweetly interspersed with classroom conversations on love. From the autobiographical and emotional lyrics of her own tracks to the stunning reinterpretations of "Can't Take My Eyes Off Of You" and "Tell Him I Love Him" (a secret bonus track), Lauryn points to a new melodic direction in hip hop. An album reminiscent of the classic soul records of Stevie Wonder and Marvin Gaye, The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill deserved every one of its Grammies. —Ed Potton

Led Zeppelin Full Title - Early Days & Latter Days - The best of Volumes One and Two. This special two-disc set captures the legendary power of Led Zeppelin's finest moments in a collection of 23 classic tracks selected by Jimmy Page himself. As if that weren't enough, Early Days Volume one includes a never-before-heard live version of 'Communication Breakdown' recorded circa 1969. Latter Days Volume two is enhanced with never-before-seen performance footage of 'Kashmir' filmed at London's Earl Court back in 1975. 2 standard jewel cases housed in a slipcase. Atlantic. 2002.

Led Zeppelin Buoyed by the runaway commercial success of Led Zeppelin IV, Jimmy Page used this 1973 follow-up to hone his already impressive production skills, and the result was a collection sporting an impressively expansive sound. Benefiting—especially on tracks such as "Dancing Days Are Here Again,""The Crunge," and "Over the Hills and Far Away"—was Zeppelin's always underrated rhythm section: thunder-fisted drummer John Bonham and rock-solid bassist John Paul Jones. Jones also emerged here as a secret weapon on keyboards with his subtle work on more pensive fare such as "No Quarter" and "The Ocean." And the goofy "D'yer Ma'ker" showed that Zeppelin had more of a sense of humor than most people ever gave them credit for. —Billy Altman

Led Zeppelin Though the band likely didn't know it at the time, this would prove to be the last studio record by one of the most famous rock & roll bands in the world. Drummer John Bonham died shortly after its release. Although nothing compares to early Led Zeppelin—and they lost many longtime fans in the late 1970s—this LP is nothing to be embarrassed by. They were quick to embrace and experiment with synthesizers, and while it wears a little thin by record's end (the synth-bloated "Carouselambra" and the slick AOR hit "All My Love"), it adds a certain majestic tone to the heavy-hitting opener, "In the Evening," and gives a rollicking good-time feel to "South Bound Suarez." Plant's howl and Page's bluesy guitars are in fine form on "I'm Gonna Crawl" and the lilting "Fool in the Rain" recalls the pretty numbers from their early career. —Lorry Fleming

Led Zeppelin As it turned out, Led Zeppelin's infamous 1969 debut album was indicative of the decade to come—one that, fittingly, this band helped define with its decadently exaggerated, bowdlerized blues-rock. In shrieker Robert Plant, ex-Yardbird Jimmy Page found a vocalist who could match his guitar pyrotechnics, and the band pounded out its music with swaggering ferocity and Richter-scale-worthy volume. Pumping up blues classics such as Otis Rush's "I Can't Quit You Baby" and Howlin' Wolf's "How Many More Times" into near-cartoon parodies, the band also hinted at things to come with the manic "Communication Breakdown" and the lumbering set stopper "Dazed and Confused."—Billy Altman

Led Zeppelin Riff rock had been what Jimmy Page's former band, the Yardbirds, were all about, and on Led Zeppelin's second album, released, like its predecessor, in 1969, the inventive guitarist demonstrated that he'd indeed learned his lessons well. Witness "Whole Lotta Love," a woozy epic based on one simple, head-banging-friendly guitar riff. Or the mock-dramatic "Heartbreaker," propelled by far more intricate but similarly effective note squashing. Between Page's sonic wizardry, John Bonham beating his drums into submission ("Moby Dick"), and the juice running down Robert Plant's leg ("The Lemon Song"), Led Zeppelin here just about succeeded in raising rock & roll excess to an art form. —Billy Altman

Led Zeppelin After plundering the Yardbirds' legacy and Willie Dixon (among others) for their blues-riff-heavy first two albums, Jimmy Page and company surprised many listeners with the strong acoustic/folk sensibility displayed on III. Page aficionados shouldn't have been caught off guard; the guitarist had toyed with similar sensibilities and modalities during his brief tenure with the Yardbirds (most notably "White Summer" from the Little Gamesalbum). Ever the creative thieves, Zep kick off the album by nicking the riff from "Bali Ha'i" no less, with Robert Plant wailing it to punctuate the thundering FM warhorse "Immigrant Song." Even other electric rockers like "Celebration Day" and "Out on the Tiles" have an inventive, offbeat musicality to them that suggest the band was already wary of stereotyping. But it's the decidedly mellower acoustic groove of the album's latter half that's the news here, from the graceful beauty of "That's the Way" and "Tangerine" to the raw, folksy charm of "Bron-Y-Aur Stomp,""Hats Off (to Roy Harper)," and the traditional "Gallows Pole."—Jerry McCulley

Led Zeppelin Also known as the "rune" album or Zoso because of the medieval symbols adorning the inner sleeve, Led Zeppelin's fourth album, released in 1971, turned them from mere superstars into giant behemoths of the rock world. On tracks like "Black Dog,""Misty Mountain Hop," and "Rock and Roll," the combination of Robert Plant's banshee wails and Jimmy Page's frenetic guitar playing forever altered the stylistic bent of hard rock music. And the foreboding "When the Levee Breaks" demonstrated that Zeppelin could indeed play the blues fairly straight if they so desired. Still, everything here ultimately took a back seat to the album's (and, ultimately, the band's) magnum opus—the expertly constructed and deftly executed classic, "Stairway to Heaven."—Billy Altman

Leftfield

Leftfield

Leftfield

Leftfield Feat Manuv

Lenny Kravitz

Lenny Kravitz On the opening cut of Lenny Kravitz's Circus, the rock star falls just short of completely writing off his own existence. The song: "Rock and Roll Is Dead", a standard indictment of the fabled rock and roll lifestyle ("You're living for an image...you got five hundred women in your bed"). It's ironic, though, that Kravitz himself has always played rock star to the hilt—not in any gross display of decadence, but rather through his pronounced narcissism and pretentiousness. If rock and roll really is dead, surely the Lenny Kravitzes of the world would have slunk their way into extinction by now.

Kravitz's continued adherence to his ridiculous, often-parodied rock star stance is what makes him—even more than his decidedly retrograde music— an anachronism. And while bands like Urge Overkill get away with Kravitz-like stud rock because they riff with their tongues firmly planted in their cheeks, Kravitz is all the more difficult to stomach because he's so lacking in irony.

If it's possible to separate the music from the silly rock star that created it (or if you actually dig Kravitz's pose), Circusturns out to be a better-than-average classic rock record. "Magdalene" bursts with as much melody and enthusiasm as Matthew Sweet power-pop; the mid-tempo "Can't Get You Off My Mind" sways like the country-flavoured rock of the 1970s; and "Don't Go and Put a Bullet in Your Head" is driven by a surprisingly non-retro drum machine beat.

Circusis interesting as well for its heavy religious content. Though Kravitz's hippified vision of world harmony goes back to his first single, 1989's "Let Love Rule", never has he sounded more overtly Christian than here on songs like "God Is Love" and "The Resurrection". Traditional Christians might find his mix of sexuality with religion offensive, and secular rock fans might find his beatitudes creepy. Still, if gangster rap or left-wing folk music are valid themes for pop music, there's certainly room as well for Kravitz's religious convictions and positive vibe. —Roni Sarig

Ligabue

Linkin Park It may be too cynical to assume Hybrid Theory changed its name to Linkin Park in order to appear right next to Limp Bizkit in your local record bin. But rock-rap workouts like "One Step Closer" and "Papercut" do make Linkin Park a comfortable fit with Fred Durst and his ilk. Producer Don Gilmore (Pearl Jam, Lit) and twin vocal threats Chester Bennington and Mike Shinoda serve up industrial-strength rap and rock melodicism with equal aplomb on this debut effort. "Points of Authority" aims to sound like Trent Reznor mixing it up with Metallica, whereas guitarist Brad Delson's Edge-y harmonics help "In the End" and "Pushing Me Away" evoke a dark romanticism akin to A Perfect Circle. Curiously, the band gets by with no bass player, while sample-happy DJ Joseph Hahn's step into the spotlight on the instrumental "Cure For The Itch" suggests a potential for eclecticism that could help Linkin Park outlive its seemingly transient genre. —Bill Forman

Linkin Park Recorded on the Dallas date of the 2003 "Summer Sanitarium" arena tour, with Metallica, Limp Bizkit et al, Live in Texas is a concise, no-frills two-disc DVD/CD souvenir of the muscular Linkin Park live experience. 5.1 Surround Sound captures every nuance of Brad Delson's explosive guitar, the incendiary turntable flourishes of DJ Joseph Hahn, and the interplay between MC Mike Shinoda and singer Chester Bennington (although the audience singalong on "Numb" gets lost across the barricades), as the sextet runs through a tight set of selections drawn exclusively from its bestsellers Hybrid Theory and Meteora, with the big hits ("Crawling," "In the End") programmed toward the climax. Casual fans may grumble about the absence of extras—there—there's no backstage-with-the-band documentary or viewing angle options, no previously unreleased songs—but hardcore devotees (who get plenty of face time on the DVD) should appreciate the opportunity to revisit the thrills of Linkin Park in concert whenever they wish. —Kurt B Reighley

Linkin Park Meteora, Linkin Park's second studio effort (not counting the 2002 remix album Reanimation), overflows with glossy production values and Big Rock oomph, fully embracing the pop instincts of their Hybrid Theory debut. For many, Theory sounded inexcusably corporate, from its too-timely rap-rock sound to the long list of product endorsements included in the sleeve notes. Meteora will only amplify those complaints, but this album is actually truer to the band's nature. It's still impossible not to hear strains of Limp Bizkit, Korn, Rage Against the Machine and the like. None of those acts, however, would try something as blatantly anthemic as "Easier to Run", which would sound fine to a Def Leppard fan, or as borderline danceable as "Breaking the Habit" and "Session". Linkin Park are what Trent Reznor was always afraid of becoming, but if you ever wished he would drop the pretences and just make a hair-metal record, you'll find Meteora to your liking. —Matthew Cooke

Linkin Park

Linkin Park Reanimation is the evil twin of Linkin Park's 2000 debut, Hybrid Theory. While plotting their next studio album, the Southern California band enlisted some of aggro rock's leading lights, as well as some of the more enlightened underground MCs and producers, to slice and dice all the songs on their debut (including a few bonus cuts that made it to their Japanese release). Linkin Park allowed their special guests—including Korn's Jonathan Davis, Staind's Aaron Lewis, Orgy's Jay Gordon, the Roots' Black Thought, and Jurassic 5's Chali 2NA—to run riot through their songbook, tweaking melodies, writing new lyrics and sometimes changing the entire intent of the originals. As a result, this collection of 20 songs is Mr Hyde to Hybrid Theory's Dr Jekyll.

Most of Linkin Park's atmospheric and melodic moments have ended on the cutting-room floor—along with the self-consciousness that pervaded many of the songs—replaced with a brash impudence that's more rap than rock. Chali 2NA entirely changes the landscape on "Forgotten", shape-shifting the song into an alien being dubbed "Frgt/10", which takes you to a dark, desolate place with only your own disturbed thoughts and some electronic bleeps for company. And that's enough. This is a masterful art project that truly succeeds. —Jaan Uhelszki

LOUISE Member of the original line-up of the successful soul/pop group Eternal, Louise Nurding's debut album Naked proved that she had the talent to go it alone. As the title suggests, the album represents the unveiling of Louise as a solo pop personality, confident and self-assured. "One Kiss From Heaven" and "Light of My Life", especially, are catchy tracks which highlight Louise's finely-honed pop abilities and chart sensibilities. —John Galilee

Madonna Perhaps the most interesting decade in her career, GHV2is a selection of the best songs from 1992's Eroticato Musicin 2000. Throughout the 1990s, Madonna was well publicised for trying her hand at anything musical together with setting new styles and standards in pop fashion. GHV2highlights her diversity as it shifts from the "In Bed with Madonna" period with tunes such as "Erotica" and "Deeper & Deeper" to the William Orbit and Mirwais phases of her last two albums by way of the Lloyd Webber musical, Evita. Fans of Musicor Ray of Lightwho were not Madonna fans from back in the day may find the latter half of the album less easy going as it does not possess the quirkiness of her later material nor the cheesy but highly accessible quality of older tunes as featured on the first Greatest Hits, The Immaculate Collection. Nevertheless, there is far more to Madonna than cowboys and ultra-trendy producers; each of the 15 tracks featured here are definitely the pick of her five albums from this golden period. —David Trueman

Madonna This is the perfect way to hear Madonna: no album filler, just one hit after another. As a singles artist, she works wonders: quick, danceable tunes that are occasionally "controversial" but never set out to change the world (and don't). The Immaculate Collectionbegins with her earliest work ("Holiday", "Borderline") and matures from there ("Papa Don't Preach", "Like A Prayer"), ending in 1990. The highlight is the inclusion of "Justify My Love", a track recorded specifically for this compilation. One caveat: since Madonna is a true video artist, it'd be even nicer to "see" these songs. —Rob O'Connor

Madonna Never underestimate Madonna's power of persuasion: by nearly all critical accounts, Ray of Light, Madonna's first album of new material since 1994's Bedtime Stories, and her first since motherhood, is her richest, most accomplished record yet. While Ray of Lightis being tagged as Madonna's big leap into electronica, it's important to note two things: first, her music has always had close ties to dance culture, and, second, her collaborator William Orbit is no Chemical Brother. Though it has all the latest blips, bleeps, and crackles electronica has to offer, Ray of Lightis still largely an adult album, completely within Madonna's realm. Still, Orbit's tasteful sonic constructions provide Madonna with her most adventurous, hippest musical backdrop ever. What's more, the arrangements and production are understated enough to highlight an even bigger development: fresh from singing lessons on the Evitaset, Madonna's vocal range, depth, and clarity have never been stronger. But larger pipes don't necessarily make for deeper, truer music. Never a master lyricist, Madonna's words have worked best when they've practically been slogans ("Vogue,""Express Yourself"). This time she goes for more emotional depth, and even tries her hand at ethno-techno-mysticism ("Shanti/Ashtangi"). She largely stumbles, however. The tone conveyed on songs like "Nothing Really Matters" is a self-centred pat on the back that belies her claim to a newly found altruism. It's enough to make you wonder, now that Madonna's given up being our material girl, if maybe she's set her sights on becoming the centre of our spiritual world too. —Roni Sarig

Madonna It didn't take the post-motherhood Ray of Lightto prove that Madonna is a big softie; this collection of ballads and slow jams had already done that. Somewhat confused in intention—the scalding ache of "Oh Father", a 1989 song for her own dad, is shoved between the sex of "Rain" and a version of Marvin Gaye's "I Want You"—this is nonetheless a highly listenable album for those who dig Madonna for her music as much as for her cultural significance. —Rickey Wright

The Mars Volta On De-loused in the Comatorium, the Mars Volta approach rock & roll like it's an ascetic discipline, a calling that comes with lyric sheets as dense and impenetrable as the Kabbalah and a ritual of worship that's dervish-like in its intensity. Formed by vocalist Cedric Bixler and guitarist Omar Rodriguez after the split of their former band—Texan hardcore legends At the Drive-In, who splintered acrimoniously in 2001—the Volta are an unashamedly progressive outfit, dealing in grandiose arrangements that come on like Led Zeppelin fired through Saturn's rings.

You can still hear many of ATDI's hallmarks inside the spasmodic dynamics of "Take the Veil Cerpin Taxt" and "Eriatarka"—it—it's just now they're immeasurably more complex, governed by time signatures responsible only to some alien logic, and cast out on ever more remote waves of mind-bending conceptual fantasy.

Bixler's serrated howl has mellowed somewhat, veering here from tender croon to shrill falsetto. And interestingly, Flea guests here, although you wouldn't know it: his brooding basslines bear nothing of the slap-happy funk he displays in the Red Hot Chilli Peppers. But ironically, the most startling contribution comes from the band's late sound manipulator Jeremy Ward, who passed away after a heroin overdose on the eve of this album's release. His dubby ambient fills unfurl in the valleys between each jagged instrumental peak, lending a truly otherworldly feel to proceedings. A morbid legacy, but thankfully, far from this album's only selling point: De-loused in the Comatoriumis the rare prog-rock landmark that prizes punk passion over meandering pretension. — Louis Pattison

Marvin Gaye

Marvin Gaye

Massive Attack During the 1990s, Massive Attack were simply untouchable as the most groundbreaking British band for decades. Each of their three studio albums preceding 100th Windowwere pioneering masterpieces, with 1991's Blue Linesacclaimed as one of the best British albums of all time. Nowadays, Massive Attack aren't so much a "great band" as a "one-man-band", with Robert "3D" Del Naja the only member of the original trio on this album.

100th Windowmay be Massive Attack's fourth album (on paper, at least), but it's effectively Del Naja's solo debut. Ironically, 100th Windowsounds as distinctly Massive Attack-like as any of its predecessors, except the low, slow raps of Daddy G and Mushroom have been replaced by the fragile voice of Sinead O'Connor. Put simply, 100th Windowsounds eerily similar to 1998's Mezzanine; it's dark, broody, intense and, at times, quite uncomfortable, with the odd shimmering ray of light allowed to peep through Del Naja's murky nocturnal soundscapes. Occasionally it sounds like Clannad done in a dubwise style (check the impressive "A Prayer For England" or unlikely single "Special Cases"), at others like a late night trip through Bristol's run-down estates in the company of the Grim Reaper.

With such an impressive back catalogue, 100th Windowshould have been something new, fresh and original, but as it is it's just another dose of Mezzanine's paranoid broodiness. Of course, 100th Windowis still a very good record—no-one does darkness with quite the same warmth and murkiness as Massive Attack—but this isn't half the album it could have been. —Matt Anniss

Massive Attack The critical and commercial triumphs of Portishead, Tricky and Roni Size have established Bristol as a centre of slow-burning creativity, but it was the staggering impact Massive Attack made with their debut album which first put the West Country town on the musical map and made reluctant superstars of Mushroom, 3-D and Daddy G. Blue Linesprovided a blueprint for the sound which would become known as trip-hop, combining the raw soundsystem vibe of the Wild Bunch parties with immaculate production and the distinguished vocal talents of Tricky, Shara Nelson and Horace Andy. From the understated beats and deftly-arranged ensemble rapping of the title track to the smokey paranoia of "Five Man Army" and the unrepeatable melancholic splendour of "Unfinished Sympathy", the album is a modern classic through and through. It won the Mercury Music Prize in 1992 and remains the finest work of a frighteningly talented group. —Ed Potton

Massive Attack By the release of 1998's Mezzanine, critics were suddenly of the understanding that Massive Attack were one of the most important bands in the world. Bristol's original trip-hop pioneers had, on previous albums Blue Lines and Protection, fused turntable wizardry to the warmest of soul. With Mezzanine, however, the party had ended; revisiting the murky soundscapes so favoured by former partner and fellow Bristolian Tricky, the comeback single "Rising Son" muttering edgily about "cheap beer filled with crocodile tears", over the deepest bass. Tensions were heightened by the news that the making of Mezzanine was riven by inter-band rifts. The friction, though, seems to have create some gems; "Inertia Creeps" is drenched in menace, and "Teardrop" features the ethereal vocals of Liz Fraser of the Cocteau Twins—both of these a benchmark not just for the band, but for the trip-hop genre. Bleak, but powerfully beautiful. —Louis Pattison

Massive Attack Bristol's Massive Attack released a classic with their first album, Blue Lines, but only those who were paying careful attention noticed for a while; then, after everybody caught on, they were overshadowed by the likes of colleagues Portishead, who were cooler. But not so after the release of Protection, which sported a massive hit and was just as critically acclaimed as their first album. (The hit was the title track, for which Everything but the Girl's Tracy Thorn lent her divine pipes—a move that presaged EBTG's move to the dance floor.) Eschewing the showmanship of their scene mates, Massive prefer subtler soundscapes and using a diverse range of vocalists (including Horace Andy, Nicolette, and Tricky) who give them a number of flavours and moods with which to work. Protectionis an understated album with a rich palette; it reveals more of itself on repeated listens, growing better—and deeper—each time. —Randy Silver

Mic Christopher

Michelle Branch At the tender age of 20, Michelle Branch finds herself reaching for the highest of heights with Hotel Paper—after all, her debut, The Spirit Room, sold 2.6 million copies and won a Grammy. Yet, considering she was forced to write most of these songs in hotel rooms while on tour with artists such as Sheryl Crow (hence the album's title), she's done a remarkably good job. Eschewing the gothic melancholy of Fiona Apple and the bleeding heart sentimentalism of Jewel, she instead aims mostly for a lush pop sound to back tales of her first forays into the world of "serious" relationships. With main producer John Shanks lending a glossy 1980s feel to proceedings (as do several others), as well as tasteful orche

Mogwai

Mogwai

Moloko Do You Like My Tight Sweaterwas released in a year when female vocalist led down-tempo acts were hitting saturation point. There seemed to be literally hundreds of enthusiastic epigones attempting to emulate the work of "trip-hop" artists like Tricky, Massive Attack, Portishead and Smith and Mighty. Most of these acts took the same introspective, zeitgeist-capturing route of these seminal Bristol bands—but not producer Mark Brydon (House Arrest, Cloud 9) and singer Roisin Murphy, aka Moloko (a name taken from the Anthony Burgess novel A Clockwork Orange).

Their debut album, cheekily titled Do You Like My Tight Sweater, arrived on the dance scene without fanfare at around this time and presented a radically different take on the down-tempo sound. Boisterous, surreal and humorous, the LP resists the temptation to conjure up yet more disenchanted inner city isolation, seeking instead to paint a brighter—or at least quirkier—picture of modern living. Murphy's elfish, stream-of-consciousness lyrics are delivered here with an infectious slink appeal and are the perfect match for Brydon's slightly bonkers mix of hip-hop beats and funk mixed with groans, creaks, springs and slams.

Featuring the cult hits "Fun For Me" and "Night For Day", Do You...also showcases a bunch more bewitching records, from the Os Mutantes sounding "Lotus Eaters", the sultry "Dominoid", the drum & bass kick of "Butterfly 747" and the silly funk of "Killa Bunnies". It's a rare and genuinely entertaining album. —Paul Sullivan

Moloko After the success of their 1996 debut Do You Like My Tight Sweater, this follow-up from Sheffield-based duo Moloko received rather a muted response—a shame, as it consolidated the principles they'd already established the first time round. That is, until the summer-1999 dance-remix release of "Sing it Back", which proved to be a huge hit, both in the Ibiza clubs and at home in the UK (unfortunately, that mix is not to be found on this CD). Existentially quirky and shiftless, it was another reproach to the increasingly homogenous mass of electro-pop out there, snagging on the cardigan of chart conformity. Mark Brydon's angular collage of samples, squelching Moog synthesisers, and lopsided rhythms tangled up perfectly with singer Roisin Murphy's schizoid vocals and spontaneous wordplay, particularly on the Pere Ubu-influenced "The Flipside." However, Murphy's bizarre, robotic onstage antics and vocal mannerisms annoyed some, while others lazily marked Moloko down as a novelty trip-hop band. Consequently, I Am Not A Doctornever received the fair hearing it deserved. The last track reads almost like an appropriate epitaph: "Should've Been, Could've Been". —David Stubbs

Moloko Prior to "Sing It Back" being remixed into an Ibizan pant-swinging classic, Mark Brydon and Roisin Murphy were, of course, best known for being the acceptable face of comedy trip-hop. Therefore, anyone expecting Things To Make And Doto be full of handbag-circling, dancefloor stormers is in for a bit of a shock. You see, Moloko are an experimental pop band and not the disco stalwarts their success implies. Unfortunately, this often involves being as irritating as possible. Take "Indigo" for instance, a song so lyrically unhinged it makes "Lily The Pink" seem profound; or the snappily titled "If You Have A Cross To Bear You Might As Well Use It As A Crutch"—an anarchic showdown between Gilbert & Sullivan and Joy Division that's just plain daft. Murphy's voice still resonates like a loved-up Fenella Fielding—all trembling operetta meets pussy-cat growl, but Brydon's rhythmic quirks and off-kilter sounds are perfunctory, often bordering on the puerile. It's not all bad: "Absent Minded Friends" sounds rich and sentimental, while the languid bossa vibe drifting through "Being Is Believing" is Kate Bush in all but name. Ultimately though, the faults here far outweigh the virtues. —Paul Tierney

Morcheeba Blame Tricky and Portishead. They started this whole Bristol sound thing, with sleepy techno beats overshadowed by the chirrupy vocals of some slumberland chanteuse. And, just when you think the approach has lost all its steam, all its relevance, along comes a new outfit to make the music a few degrees sleepier and the singing a tad more dreamy. And singers don't come any dreamier than Skye Edwards, whose lissom trill infuses every track on this sophomore outing with a tranquil ennui. You don't jump around to Morcheeba numbers like "The Sea". You sit back and let them creep up on you, as steady as the tides. —Tom Lanham

Morcheeba In which Clapham's dreamiest, downbeatiest, de-loveliest trio takes it uptown, takes it to the bridge, and even—on the phatter-than-phat "In The Hands Of The Gods"—takes it over to Biz Markie's house. If you aren't frightened of sudden bursts of extroversion or a whiff of the mainstream any more than those stray dismissals of Morcheeba's oeuvre as "coffeetablist" put you off, you're in for a treat. Albeit a more in-your-face variety than that of luscious predecessor Big Calm, which sold sneaky, word-of-mouth millions while still seeming like an irresistibly hoarded secret between you, Paul Edwards' turntables, brother Ross' sleepy slide guitar and Skye Edwards' mouth-watering voice. Fortunately, there's enough pop here for everyone to take a bite: bright, radio-friendly gospel choruses ("Rome Wasn't Built In A Day"), shameless disco strings ("Shallow End"), wickedly itchy grooves and Chic-style struts ("Be Yourself", "Let It Go"). Melancholics will doubtless prefer the hazily elegiac title track and hypnotic "World Looking In", but the album's real highlights radiate pure exuberance instead. And judging from the Grandmaster Flash-ised roller-rink glee of "Love Sweet Love", or Skye and rapper Bahamadia biggin' up the ladies in "Good Girl Down", rest assured that if any coffee tables were involved in the production of this recording, they were treated with a complete lack of respect. —Jennifer Nine

Morcheeba Morcheeba served as the template for subsequent "trip-hop" combos, with a line-up that consisted of brothers Ross and Paul Godfrey (both steeped in a musical heritage ranging from Hendrix to roots reggae, from which they cherry-picked at will) and female vocalist Skye Edwards, whose languid vocals melted into the brothers' melange of slide guitars, scratch DJing dub and tablas like cream into coffee. "Who Can You Trust" didn't immediately win over the dance crowd, moving as it did at Mississippi pace through a marijuana haze of sound. The album's standout tracks, however, including "Tape Loop" and "Trigger Hippie", an almost edible concoction of dark funky ingredients, ensured that it became a slow-burning and widely imitated landmark mid-1990s album. —David Stubbs

Mundy

Muse With Absolution, size is most definitely an issue. Hoping that it will finally propel them into the musical major leagues, Muse have set out to create a cross-genre monster, a contemporary meisterwerk, the biggest-sounding album in years. That they almost succeed is testament to their sky-high confidence and unarguable abilities. With just three members to draw upon, they've individually stretched themselves to fill in the inevitable sonic gaps. Bassist Chris Wolstenholme, in particular, does sterling work, producing a driving buzz to lift "Time Is Running Out" to a massive crescendo, then a rush of distortion that pushes "Hysteria" to Queen-like levels of ecstasy.

Throughout, Matt Bellamy adds classical grace with his tinkling, rolling grand piano, all the while moaning and shrieking out his fear of decay, destruction and death, like a traumatised Gene Pitney. Indeed, aside from their classical leanings and clear kinship with the prog-rock likes of Queen and Rush (there are some outbreaks of metal here), Muse often draw on classic pop, employing lush 1960s-style arrangements. With "Blackout" they go even further, daring to conjure Bacharach's "Magic Moments". If there's a weakness here, it's that the songwriting remains inconsistent, but this is usually covered up by musicianship and studio wizardry that leave Coldplay languishing in Muse's dust. —Dominic Wills

Muse

Muse It takes a certain sort of band to fill Wembley stadium, one unafraid to embrace scale, flirt with pomposity, and perform the odd grand gesture. Watching Muse's live CD/DVD H.A.A.R.P—recorded over two nights in June 2007—you—you're left wondering if Wembley is quite big enough to hold them. From the grand opening, when Muse ascend from an underground chamber and walk down a central ramp flanked by men in yellow chemical splash suits to Matt Bellamy's lengthy, florid turns at the grand piano, no opportunity is missed to make H.A.A.R.Pseem anything less than a spectacle. Shot in high definition, the camera-work is as snappy and dynamic as any movie blockbuster, with special attention to the crowd, who are picked out with sometimes breathtaking detail. Fans may gripe over the tracklisting—the DVD has been edited down, meaning four tracks, including "Bliss" have been left on the cutting floor—but casuals should be satisfied with the selection: there's the hits ("Supermassive Black Hole", "Knights of Cydonia") and on the DVD, a noble rendition of Nina Simone's "Feeling Good".—Louis Pattison

Muse

Muse Pomposity, bombast, pretension and prog-rock: they're four crimes that blight the landscape of modern music and Origin Of Symmetry—the second record by Teignmouth angst-rockers Muse—is guilty of every single one. But the truly astonishing thing about this record is the way it twists every one of these cardinal musical sins into spectacularly silly and starkly individual strengths. Where their debut album Showbiz was rightly dismissed as little more than Radiohead-lite, here Muse sound defiantly like their own band: on "New Born", they're torn somewhere between the purity of front man Matt Bellamy's angelic vocal tones and the corruption of a huge, dirty, distorted bass riff that electrifies the sound into crackling life; on the fraught, operatic "Bliss", they sound like an unholy—but very welcome—cross between synth-heavy Krautrock legends Tangerine Dream and youthful choirboy angst-peddlers JJ72; and even a wonderfully dippy take on the Nina Simone-popularised jazz standard "Feeling Good" is carried off with the requisite deadpan countenance. Bellamy's impassioned voice, in particular, is on spectacular form, soaring skywards until it cracks into a beautiful falsetto reminiscent of Jeff Buckley's greatest vocal moments. So gloriously overblown, it deserves to be huge—Origin Of Symmetry is a fascinating, flamboyant and satisfyingly individual album. —Louis Pattison

Muse It's practically impossible to mention Muse without also bringing up Radiohead. Listening to Muse's debut, it's easy to see why. Showbiz was produced by John Leckie, the producer of The Bends, and features the frightfully Yorke-esque choiral falsetto of front-man Matthew Bellamy, running the whole emotional gamut of unhappiness from sincere upset to outright dysfunction. New ground, it's fair to say, remains distinctly unbroken. To Muse's credit, though, they do this angst thing pretty well. "Cave" is a wonderful, terrible epic, replete with rank after rank of bludgeoning guitars, "Muscle Museum" builds up swathes of complex baroque noise, and "Escape"—well, it's a surrogate "No Surprises" with a firework finale, and should keep us ticking over until the next Radiohead album, thank you very much. See? You can't escape the comparison. But at least Showbiz wears it well.—Louis Pattison

Natalie Imbruglia

Natalie Imbruglia A cross between Alanis Morissette and Kylie Minogue, you couldn't engineer a more likely late 1990s pop star than Natalie Imbrugila if you tried. Blessed with a stunning bone structure and a passable voice, Australian soap star Imbruglia and producer Phil Thornally turned Ednaswap's gritty "Torn" into a swirling pop confection. Nothing else on her debut quite matches it, in part because Left of the Middlesticks closer to the centre than it cares to admit. Imbruglia manages to touch on a wide range of female styles—angry ("One More Addiction"), electronica ("Big Mistake") and yearning ("Smoke")—without leaving her fingerprints on any of them. —Steven Mirkin

Natalie Imbruglia White Lilies Islandcomes four years after "Torn" and her debut Left of the Middlepropelled her into international stardom. It took a long time to get right, and it was worth the trouble. Produced by a variety of names including Ian Stanley and Pascal Gabriel, it also includes song collaborations with Pat Leonard (co-author of key Madonna hits). White Lilies Islandhas a driving, dramatic edge—particularly on the opener "That Day", and "Hurricane", a sweeping song about inexplicable passion. Natalie moves with ease between guitar-led rock and groove-orientated pop but it's obvious her heart lies with the former, particularly in the rich, freewheeling energy of tracks like "Goodbye" and "Do You Love?". —Lucy O'Brien

New Radicals Veteran singer/songwriter/producer Gregg Alexander found the perfect formula for catchy, disposable pop songs with the inordinately hooky single "You Get What You Give", which owes more than a little to World Party. It's a pity, then, that the rest of the album doesn't live up to the promise of the one song—but then, it's somewhat fitting for an album from a 'band' that never consisted of anyone other than Alexander. Not too long after the album came out, he retired the name to concentrate on producing others. —Bucky Wunderlick

Nick Cave Emotive, passionate, disturbing, beguiling—there really aren't enough worthy adjectives to do this masterful album justice. Nocturamais Nick Cave's 12th album with the Bad Seeds and he has lost none of his poetic imagination, rousing romanticism and spine-tingling verve. With Nick Launey (whom Cave hadn't worked with since The Birthday Party) at the production desk the band were given more freedom and the results are mesmerising.

Having recorded Nocturamaat break-neck speed, and with the Blockheads working on three tracks, Cave has created a feisty record that mixes edgy spontaneity (the 15-minute, 43-verse "Babe I'm On Fire") with heart wrenchingly tender ballads such as "Still in Love". Possibly Cave's most diverse album to date, fusing his many moods, paces and styles, it stands as a good representation of the diversity of the Antipodean crooner's work.

The opener "Wonderful Life" is Cave at his charming, evocative best, building around a rousing piano and mesmerising bass. "Dead Man in My Bed" sees him in hilariously sardonic mood, chaotically taking on the role of a woman bemoaning the shortcomings of her pathetic partner. But within this splendid musical range lies a breathtaking peak in the form of "Bring It On", which features a duet with Chris Bailey, singer with renowned pre-punk outfit The Saints. Its heartstopping beauty is nothing short of life affirming. —Chris Barrett

Nick Drake

Nickelback Following in Staind's footsteps, Nickelback make the personal public and vent a history of frustration and resentment to melodic hard rock. Silver Side Upstarts with "Never Again", an angry tirade against domestic violence that sheds light on the issue without too much sap or sentiment. The catchy "How You Remind Me" and "Woke Up This Morning" tell of rotting relationships, while other tracks touch on damaged hope and lost dreams. The post-grunge, alt-metal combo backing these songs packs as strong a punch as the lyrical material, going hard with lots of hooks. The additional slide guitar on "Hangnail" and sludgy, alt-metal riffs on "Hollywood", "Money Bought" and "Where Do I Hide" add a little meat to the alt-rock bones on Silver Side Up, elevating Nickelback above the heap of copycat rockers clogging the airwaves. —Jennifer Maerz

Nirvana In 1989, Nirvana were mentioned in the same breath as Mudhoney, Tad and The Melvins—just another band doing the rounds on the Seattle underground. Bleachdoesn't adequately explain why, so many years on, Nirvana remains a household name when so many of their contemporaries have been forgotten, but it offers the first essential clues. "About A Girl", for instance, which was later memorably revived for their MTV Unplugged In New Yorkalbum, is one of Nirvana's finest moments—a Beatles-esque light touch between the caustic likes of "Floyd The Barber" and "School". It was when Nirvana toned down the fuzz-metallic tendencies so characteristic of the Sub Pop label that Cobain's gift for melody shone through- -notably, the cover of Shocking Blue's "Love Buzz". Of course, Cobain quickly realised this, and much better was to come with 1991's classic Nevermind. —Louis Pattison

Nirvana Overwhelmed by sudden success, Nirvana promised to take a harsher, more abrasive route on their second major-label release. Enlisting Chicago-based noise maven Steve Albini (of Big Black fame), Kurt Cobain and company succeeded in producing a record that was violent, disillusioned, and deeply moving. Every song reads like a commentary on the cost of fame ("Serve the Servants") and the unhealthy relationship between performer and fan ("Milk It"). Of course, they might all simply be about Courtney Love. Gossip aside, there is no denying the sheer power of Cobain's song-writing, his singing, and the band's amazing, visceral power. Cobain even manages a John Lennon-like mantra at the end of the heart-wrenching "All Apologies". "All in all is all we are," he intones repeatedly, only for Cobain that's no consolation. —Percy Keegan

Nirvana One of the defining moments of the 1990s, despite happening at the start of the decade. The guitars start jittering, then "BOOMA-ABOOMA-ABOOMA-ABOOM!", the drums kick in and grunge splatters itself all over a generation of MTV viewers. "Smells Like Teen Spirit" will surely always speak to alienated teenagers, while giving them something to thrash around their rooms to, kicking the whole thing off as it means to go on. "Come As You Are" is dark and twisted, while "Lithium" and "In Bloom" show Kurt Cobain's often overlooked sense of humour, and "Stay Away" highlights the best way to shred your vocal chords. It's nigh-impossible not to love this album, and it will remain Nirvana's most affectionately remembered work. It's just a shame that a misplaced sense of "selling out" (stupid term if ever there was one) led to such an internal rejection of "...Teen Spirit". A work of genius, no question. —Emma Johnston

Nirvana Though fans will endlessly argue about the selection of tracks (what, no "Breed"?), there's no denying that the songs on Nirvanaare all classics. Nirvana were the most influential band of their generation, galvanising the then-underground indie scene and bringing their music to the masses. Though their career was cut short by the suicide of singer and songwriter Kurt Cobain, they left in their wake a massive shift in popular music and popular culture, much like punk a generation earlier (or the Beatles before that).

The 14 tracks on Nirvanachart their career, from the first album on Sub Pop ("About a Girl") to the song ("Smells Like Teen Spirit") and album (Nevermind) that changed everything, and the subsequent rarities collection (Incesticide's "Sliver", "Been a Son"), the superb follow-up album (In Utero's "Rape Me", "Heart-Shaped Box", "Pennyroyal Tea") and their classic MTV Unpluggedsession ("The Man Who Sold the World"). For fans and completists, there's even a previously unreleased track, "You Know You're Right". Of course, it's a superb collection, but at 14 tracks it seems a bit short. Here's hoping there's a double-CD version just around the corner. Maybe even a box set…—Robert Burrow

Nirvana Unpluggedwas the last collection recorded by Nirvana before the untimely death of Kurt Cobain and it caught many by surprise. As a testament to the group's live dynamic in a acoustic setting, it's a fantastic document that emphasises the nuances of one of the greatest bands of recent times. Cobain singing "I swear I don't have a gun, I don't have a gun" with clenched teeth instead of a loud howl is a revelation as is the subtle guitar playing on the haunting "About a Girl", from their earliest LP. Highlights include covers of three Meat Puppets tracks (featuring special guests Curt and Kris Kirkwood of that influential "college rock" band), the weepy cello on the Vaselines'"Jesus Doesn't Want Me for a Sunbeam" and their cover of David Bowie's "The Man Who Sold the World". —Lorry Fleming

No Doubt There have been more baffling occurrences than the late-1990s ska revivial in the US—but not many. Yet somehow, this distinctly British movement—arising specifically out of the country's polarised racial dynamic—managed to cross over, finding an eager audience among suburban American teens, most of whom viewed it less as a social determinant, than as a stylistic outcrop of skate-punk and hardcore. Fronted by platinum-blonde Gwen Stefani, No Doubt defied the genre's traditionally masculine archetype, just as their sound—part Two-Tone, part Blondie—hinted at broader commercial ambitions. The supremely annoying "Just A Girl" might have bought them to mainstream attention, showcasing Stefani's little-girl delivery, but it was their subsequent singles——"Don—"Don't Speak", a melodramatic power-ballad, and the bouncy, irrepressible "Sunday Morning"—which really proved their mettle, even as their new-found success alienated many long-time fans. —Andrew McGuire

Oasis Oasis were already dubbed the New Beatles before the release of What's The Story—within a month of it going multi-platinum, The Timesclaimed they were more important than the Fabs; and Liam Gallagher was inviting George Harrison to fight him on Primrose Hill. But then, you'd feel cocky enough to pick on a Beatle if you'd just recorded these songs. Obviously the singles——"Wonderwall—"Wonderwall", "Don't Look Back In Anger", "Some Might Say"—rock; but it's a shocker rediscovering just how ace the album tracks are. The minor-chord that the chorus of "Hey Now!" pivots on could liquefy a brick;"Champagne Supernova" is the sound of a band riding the nose-cone of a rock & roll Concorde, and as for "She's Electric"—ah, well. Every New Beatles must have their "Maxwell's Silver Hammer". —Caitlin Moran

Oasis In retrospect, it's hard to see how Oasis could have possibly equalled the hype surrounding the release of this, their third album. Arriving as their popularity was at its peak, it's a confusing, faintly self-indulgent collection. The first single, the wryly-titled "D'You Know What I Mean?", had a monolithic sort of grandeur, taking Noel Gallagher's fondness for overdubbed, wall-of-sound guitars to some new peak, but also seemed a little over-extended—as did its follow-up, "All Around The World", a slab of Beatles-esque, sing-along pop that seemed to last longer than the entire White Album. Then again, it made a kind of sense: nothing if not mindful of rock tradition, Oasis's quest to be the World's Greatest Rock & Roll Band meant that they were obliged—like the Stones before them—to make their own mid-1970s album (albeit, two decades too late). And from its Caribbean origins, to its raucous, bloated, "cocained-out" sound, this is it: a triumph of arrogance over ambition. Maybe next time they'll go punk. —Andrew McGuire

Oasis So this is where it all began. This is where Noel Gallagher first realised his vision of a band that matched the swagger of the Stone Roses to the harmonic thrill of the Beatles. It is difficult to resist this album, despite the obvious flaws. (It plods. The production is too heavy-handed. "Shakermaker" borrows its melody from a soft drink commercial.) There is such a passion, such self-belief in these tracks, such a refusal to be overwhelmed by the odds. "Cigarettes And Alcohol" virtually defined a generation. "Supersonic" still sends a pure adrenaline rush through the listener, despite the cack-handed lyrics. "Live Forever", meanwhile, is simply fantastic—still Oasis's finest moment. Singles aside, there are so many other gems to discover; from the classy "Up In The Sky" to the acoustic ballad "Married With Children" to the chirpy "Digsy's Diner". On this classic album—and its even finer follow-up (What's The Story) Morning Glory—Oasis still had a real naiveté to their sound, one that they subsequently lost. —Everett True

Oasis It's often the way of rock & roll—the accidental stuff you don't sweat over often turns out to be better than the supposedly generation-defining monolith you rupture your life to expel. So it was with Oasis and their third album, Be Here Now—soaked with sweat, it left Noel and Liam purple-faced with effort and stank like old egg sandwiches in a sock. Meanwhile The Masterplan—b-sides and live tracks—came out a year later and effortlessly reminded everyone why they'd liked the hairy brothers in the first place. "Acquiesce"—don—don't worry, they admitted they didn't know what the word meant, they just liked the sound of it—was the greatest single they never released: a huge, affirmative sibling bellow-fest that makes "D'You Know What I Mean?" sound like a polite old grandma coughing in comparison. The mournful "Rockin' Chair"—another "lost" Oasis classic, makes it onto here, along with a truly execrable live version of the Beatles'"I Am The Walrus", which actually sounds like they got a walrus to sing it, but no matter. The magic, so latterly absent in Oasis's career, is here in spades. —Caitlin Moran

Oasis With Standing On The Shoulder Of Giants, Oasis—the self-professed "biggest rock & roll band in the world"—continue exploring their fascination with Great British Bands of the late 1960s. Paying homage to your heroes is one thing, but many of Standing On The Shoulder's best moments sound like their icons' worst. However, this is Oasis, and they do manage to pull some stunners out of their hats: "Gas Panic" and "Where Did It All Go Wrong?" demonstrate the command of catchy hooks and epic anthems that made their first two albums—Definitely Maybeand (What's The Story) Morning Glory?—such classics. Elsewhere, their influences are more obvious. The psychedelic "Who Feels Love?" is a perfect example of George Harrison in full Eastern Mystic mode, complete with sitars, tablas and tape-loops. Outright rocker "Put Yer Money Where Yer Mouth Is" has the strut and stomp of vintage Doors or Rolling Stones, but is ultimately let down by its weak songwriting ("Ready or not, come what may/The bets are going down for judgement day"). The most dubious lyrics are saved for the Liam Gallagher-penned "Little James", his paean to paternal love which—perhaps unintentionally—contains some of rock's most laughable couplets ("You live for your toys, even though they make noise"). Standing On The Shoulder Of Giantsdoesn't represent a major step forward for Oasis, but it is a definite improvement on the band's previous album, Be Here Now. For stronger evidence as to why Oasis is credited with resurrecting Britpop in the late 20th century, newcomers to the band would do well to investigate Definitely Maybeor (What's The Story) Morning Glory?. —Rob Burrow

Ocean Colour Scene 1. Huckleberry grove~~~ 2. The Day We Caught the train~~~ 3. Mrs. Jones~~~ 4. Top of the world~~~ 5. Here in my heart~~~ 6. I wanna stay alive with you~~~ 7. Robin Hood~~~ 8. Chelsea walk~~~ 9. Outside of a circle~~~ 10. The Clock struck 15 hours ago~~~ 11. Alibis~~~ 12. Chicken bones and stones~~~ 13. Cool Cool Water~~~ 14. Charlie brown says~~~ 15. Day tripper~~~ 16. Beautiful losers

Ocean Colour Scene "I remember", said OCS singer Simon Fowler in a 1996 interview, "when we were dropped, our old label boss said there were no potential singles on the demo tape we'd just given him. One of the songs on that tape was "The Day We Caught The Train"."

You can't blame the boy for gloating. When the Birmingham quartet recorded Moseley Shoalsin their tiny home studio, there wasn't a label that wanted them. Perhaps that's why Fowler—one of Britain's most under-recognised lyricists —sounds like a man with nothing to lose on "The Circle" and the aching "It's My Shadow". R&B driven hits such as "The Riverboat Song" and "You've Got It Bad" paint a slightly misleading picture. In fact, there's a pastoral poignancy to much of Moseley Shoalswhich owes more to, say, Fairport Convention than mentor/mate Paul Weller. —Peter Paphides

Ocean Colour Scene Want to relive the past? For heaven's sake, learn restraint. Don't mar your production with fancy digital frills. Be like Ocean Colour Scene. OCS know when to pitch a note and when to stand back. They might've been unfairly tarnished with the "Dad Rock" badge because of their association with mentor Paul Weller (Weller sings back-up on one song here, the blissfully low-key "No One At All"), but they have the authentic, rootsy feel of the 60s white boy beat groups down pat. On songs like the anti-war, defiant "Profit In Peace" and solipsistic "Emily Chambers", OCS prove that the lessons they've learnt at the hands of The Small Faces, The Spencer Davis Group and The Yardbirds,they've learnt well. One From the Modernis a mini-masterpiece of restraint and passion, albeit passion displayed through a rose-tinted, time-distorted lens. Half the songs here could be mistaken for Pebbles-era garage classics. And that's some compliment. —Everett True

Original Soundtrack The film Almost Famousis set in 1973, a time when rock and roll was about to evolve into a lumbering, arena-conquering dinosaur. Director Cameron Crowe—who was himself a teenage rock journalist for Rolling Stonemagazine—has applied his own first-hand knowledge of the 1970s rock scene and co-produced a soundtrack that neatly encapsulates an era in rock and roll history. Contributions from Simon and Garfunkel ("America") and the Beach Boys ("Feel Flows") nod to a gentler musical scene on its way out, while tracks by Lynyrd Skynyrd ("Simple Man"), the Allman Brothers Band ("One Way Out") and Led Zeppelin ("That's The Way") indicate the shape of rock to come. Meanwhile, David Bowie's version of "I'm Waiting for the Man" hints at the glam scene lurking just around the corner, and Clarence Thomas's "Slip Away" provides an example of perfect 1970s soul. Even Almost Famous's fictitious house band, Stillwater, contribute a track: the nicely retro, guitar-rocking "Fever Dog". —Robert Burrow

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Original Soundtrack The Matrix Reloadedsoundtrack comes on two discs packed to the gills with as much diverse entertainment as possible. There are trailers for the movies, The Animatrixand the video game; there are bonus songs apparently inspired by the movie; and, as if that weren't enough, they even found space for music featured in the film. Despite the glaringly overdone all-markets marketing gloss, the good music, thankfully, really is worthwhile. Disc One carries a dozen tunes to rival the hard-as-nails mix of the original movie's soundtrack. Marilyn Manson, Rob Zombie, the Deftones and Rage Against the Machine have all survived the four-year gap (although the Propellerheads haven't), but now they're joined by scene-stealing rivals Linkin Park, Fluke and, inevitably, Paul Oakenfold. It adds up to a flit-about experience, but not so Disc Two. Composer Don Davis is joined and jump-started by Rob Dougan and Juno Reactor, layering his postmodern orchestral writing with dizzyingly fast drum loops and samples. This is the album's real musical surprise; that so many disparate styles should fuse perfectly in the score section. It's definitely the disc that'll more consistently recall the most stunning sequences of the film. With Revolutions, this is set to be the most experimentally diverse and widely appealing trilogy of movie soundtracks ever put on disc. —Paul Tonks

Original Soundtrack While Steven Spielberg's sci-fi detective thriller Minority Reportrevolves around the intriguing premise of future cops arresting criminals beforetheir crimes, beneath its hi-tech veneer it begs a simple but infinitely powerful question: do we have the power to alter our own destiny? Coming on the heels of the director's posthumous collaboration with Stanley Kubrick, A.I., it also affords long-time Spielberg musical collaborator John Williams a rare back-to-back opportunity to construct a musical future-world. The composer's efforts here are largely a forceful departure from A.I.'s sparkling minimalist influences, employing an enduring cinematic cliché—that film future's often sound much like the works of early-20th-century modernist classical composers—that puts a compelling new spin on the ever slippery concept of post-modernism. If the cues here occasionally recall the jagged edges, dark corners and rhythmic fury of some of Jerry Goldsmith's best sci-fi scores, it's only a tribute to both legends' deep musical roots and preternatural scoring instincts. But make no mistake, this is pure Williams at his most compelling, employing his full arsenal of technique and always masterful use of colour to construct a new genre—call it "future noir"—from inspirations as diverse as Bartók, Ligeti, Penderecki, Webern and Schoenberg. Like Herrmann's suspenseful scores for Hitchcock (one of the film's intentional musical touchstones) there may be nary a memorable melody in it, but it's a riveting—and occasionally harrowing—listen from opening bars to its final, minimalist-tinged string flourishes.—Jerry McCulley

Original Soundtrack The idea of remaking the Rat Pack's infamous shaggy-dog story cum Vegas heist thriller may have seemed ludicrous without a Rat Pack. But that didn't deter ever-inventive director Steven Soderbergh, who's again wisely teamed up with not only Out of Sight star George Clooney but also that underrated project's Irish-born club mixer turned scorer David Holmes. The resulting soundtrack is a spunky, cross-cultural joyride that careens from Perry Como's "Papa Loves Mambo" to the loopy hip-hop of Handsome Boy Modeling School's "The Projects", while paying some gratifying visits to Percy Faith, Arthur Lyman, Quincy Jones, the terminally cool Claude Debussy and, of course, King Elvis along the way. Holmes' own concoctions are as smartly retro-hip and seamless, slyly intertwining cool jazz-funk and smoky cine-Muzak with some dance-floor grooves that keep the musical tension boiling. The sharp dialogue snippets that bubble throughout seem a quirky throwback to soundtracks gone by, a sometimes oversized olive in Holmes' inviting musical cocktail. —Jerry McCulley

Original Soundtrack

Original Soundtrack Volume One of Romeo and Juliet satisfied listeners' desire for a jamboree of rap, gospel, 70s glam, and indie tracks. It did some chopping and changing to make for a coherent listening experience. Not so for Volume Two—this colelction masterfully edits together its disparate elements, and uses dialogue soundbites from the movie to blend one piece into the next. The three composers names get no further breakdown for who did what, but from the evidence of Craig Armstrong's subsequent career (Plunkett & Macleane for example) it's obvious he had a large hand in the now infamous "Prologue" choral showpiece. It's passing similarity to Carl Orff's "O Fortuna" from Carmina Burana has been used in countless film trailers since. Where this quasi-religious style sought to ground the movie in an appropriately classical idiom, the flip-side was the contemporary look and setting. With "O Verona" and "Gas Station Scene", the two noble houses become street gangs. The latter cue makes for a spaghetti western stand-off using many of Ennio Morricone's celebrated effects. Although the lovers are given plenty of strings soli ("Balcony Scene"), there's still room for hard rock. And for those who missed it on the first album, the Quindon Tarver version of "When Doves Cry" is here in all its glory. —Paul Tonks

Original Soundtrack The magical triad behind Rushmore's spunky, starry eyed soundtrack—music supervisor Randall Poster, composer Mark Mothersbaugh and director Wes Anderson—leaps forward a decade from that beloved soundtrack's 1960s gems, in the process adopting a more pensive feel for The Royal Tenenbaums' musical backdrop. It may lack the euphoric singalong feel of, say, Creation's "Makin' Time", but the rock and folk tracks here perfectly match the film's crumbling characters and their dilapidated relationships. The Ramones'"Judy is a Punk" is a burst of nostalgic rebellion but surely causes a sad twinge in light of Joey Ramone's untimely death in 2001; gloom-folker Nick Drake's "Fly" and Elliott Smith's excellently depressing "Needle in the Hay"—which is used to chilling effect during a wrist-slashing scene—further deepen the dark thread running through Tenenbaums. But those who prefer the sunny disposition of Rushmorewill be thrilled by the calming concoctions of Mothersbaugh, who heralds the coming of a new scene with graceful woodwind/string parts ("Scrapping and Yelling") and playful sitar pieces ("Pagoda's Theme"). Throw in the Clash's squalling "Police and Thieves" and the Velvet Underground's petal-soft "Stephanie Says" and you've got another winning soundtrack from the film biz's most in-tune music lovers. Tenenbaum or not, you can go home again. —Kristy Martin

Original Soundtrack

Original Soundtrack It was surely only a matter of time until Tim Burton turned his dark attentions to the 19th century tale of Sweeney Todd, the cutthroat barber whose tales of murder and most grisly commerce on the streets of London became the stuff of an award winning 1979 musical. Here, a cast including longtime Burton collaborators Johnny Depp and Helena Bonham Carter—plus Alan Rickman, Timothy Spall and Sasha Baron-Cohen—breathe new life into Stephen Sondheim and Hugh Wheeler's musical tale with a special gothic relish for the simmering horror within. Depp's accomplished, haunted "No Place Like London" sets the scene for what's to come, the nation's capital introduced as a moral abyss ("There's a hole in the world like a great black pit/And the vermin of the world inhabit it"), while Bonham-Carter brings Cockney energy and a squirt of sauce to the "The Worst Pies in London". A neat comic turn, meanwhile, comes courtesy of Baron-Cohen, who plays the role of Italian barber Adolfo Pierelli—inventor of a fraudulent anti-balding lotion—with humorous gusto ("The Contest"). —Louis Pattison

Original Soundtrack

Paddy Casey

Paddy Casey

Papa Roach "What is wrong with the world today?" bellows frontman Coby Dick on Infest, Papa Roach's opening statement of intent. "The government, the media, or your family?" Welcome to the post-Millennial American rockscape, where every teen has his cross to bear and every band approaches the recording of an album with a whole head of demons to exorcise. And welcome, Papa Roach—not a band that comes to lay waste, more a band that studies the emotionally devastated fall-out once everything's been wasted. Infestis an album very much in the mould of Limp Bizkit's Significant Other—muscular, bruising rap-metal, dysfunctional two-fingers-to-the-world attitude—but where Limp Bizkit's anger manifests in Fred Durst's crotch-clutching braggadio, Papa Roach wear their issues with a sense of empathy. The likes of "Revenge" and "Broken Home" ("I know my mother loves me/ But does my father even care?") are pretty self-explanatory, but on "Last Resort"—a brutally simplistic study of a friend's suicide attempt—Papa Roach's brevity is their undeniable strength. Tell the parents—here—here's a rock band of positive male role-models, ready to bang the world to rights. —Louis Pattison

Picture House

Pink Floyd Although not in the same vein as the deliciously hallucinogenic earlier Floyd works such as Ummagummaand Dark Side of the Moon, Animalsis innovative and musically diverse in its own right. Inspired in part by George Orwell's political fable Animal Farm, Roger Waters condemns the avarice and inequalities of capitalism, metaphorically and musically grouping humans as pigs, dogs, and sheep. The pigs are self-righteous hypocrites inflicting their beliefs on everyone else, the dogs greedy money-grabbers, and the sheep witless followers. Dark, cynical, and brilliantly composed, Animals is an ingenious and under-acknowledged album. —Naomi Gesinger

Pink Floyd Dark Side of the Moon, originally released in 1973, is one of those albums that is discovered anew by each generation of rock listeners. This complex, often psychedelic music works very well because Pink Floyd doesn't rush anything; the songs are mainly slow to mid-tempo, with attention paid throughout to musical texture and mood. The sound effects on songs like "On the Run,""Time" and especially "Money" (with sampled sounds of clinking coins and cash registers turned into rhythmic accompaniment) are impressive, especially when we remember that 1973 was before the advent of digital recording techniques. This is probably Pink Floyd's best-known work, and it's an excellent place to start if you're new to the band. —Genevieve Williams

Pink Floyd

Pink Floyd For all that menacing, hatchet-happy growl at the beginning of Meddle's opener, "One of These Days," Pink Floyd really weren't about to "cut you into little pieces."Meddledid, however, show that the reigning British monarchs of 1970s-era psychedelia could rip into galloping jams. It also showed what its predecessor, Atom Heart Mother, promised—that the band could excel in long, breathtaking suites that revealed strains of late-classical music, Sun Ra-inspired space explorations, and a patchwork approach to colliding sounds that together took on acid-drenched proportions. And if all that isn't enough, "San Tropez" revealed a playful side of the band, playing footsy with loungy jazz and having good fun in the process. —Andrew Bartlett

Pink Floyd Though many predicted that Roger Waters's acrimonious split with the band after 1983's aptly named Final Cutwould ultimately spell the end of Pink Floyd, the remaining band members confounded pundits by extending their status as classic rock's most ponderous dinosaurs into the 1990s and beyond. And if the title was a gentle jab at Waters after a years-long legal struggle over the Floyd moniker, the music was all too familiar; some would say even formulaic. And lest anyone doubted that the absence of Waters's dour soul would lighten things up a bit, guitarist and post facto leader Dave Gilmour gamely took on the Mantle of Conscience for topics ranging from the cold war ("The Dogs of War") to yuppie self-indulgence ("On the Turning Away"). And if this album sometimes evokes an uncomfortable feeling of a band on autopilot, it's one that can still turn out the likes of the anthemic "Learning to Fly" on cruise control. —Jerry McCulley

Pink Floyd Commissioned as the soundtrack for Barbet Schroeder's 1972 film The Valley, Obscured By Cloudsactually holds up rather well on its own terms. The title track is a trippy, cinematic instrumental that features some searing guitar work from David Gilmour, but full-fledged songs like "Free Four" (which sounds like a morbid inversion of Norman Greenbaum's "Spirit in the Sky"), and the folksy "Wot's...Uh the Deal" are the real highlights of the set. Essentially a transitional work, Obscured By Cloudshas long been dwarfed by Dark Side of the Moon, the album which came immediately after it. In fact, the funky "Childhood's End" and the ethereal "Burning Bridges" could well be dry runs for the Dark Sidetracks "Time" and "Breathe," respectively. In all, it's a priceless snapshot of a band on the verge of immortality. —Dan Epstein

Pink Floyd Having lost their two figureheads over the years—first Syd Barrett, then Roger Waters—the remaining members of Pink Floyd reformed, augmented by a multitude of back-up musicians, and hit the road. This double-CD is the result, its 18 tracks covering a broad selection of the band's 30-year career, from early classics (the still-magnificent "Astronomy Domine") through to more recent cuts, such as "Learning To Fly" and "Keep Talking". Occasionally the desire to replicate the "live" atmosphere becomes annoying (except on "Another Brick In The Wall, Part Two", where it seems almost appropriate)—particularly when you consider that most of this band's great music has been about paranoia and isolation, rather than any notion of community. Equally puzzling is the decision to devote the second CD to a performance of Dark Side Of The Moon which, though played in its entirety, adds precisely nothing to its original incarnation. Mostly, though, Pulse is every bit as vast and impressive as you'd expect. —Andrew McGuire

Pink Floyd The Wallis less a collection of songs than a single work, which is sometimes frustrating; the plot lacks enough coherence to hold the snippets of music together. However, there are occasional flashes of brilliance on what ranks as Pink Floyd's most ambitious project. Most of these come from the fully developed songs, which have become classics in their own right. "Hey You,""Mother," and especially "Comfortably Numb" are subtle, incredible pieces of music. Though complex, they move at a relaxed pace, allowing the listener to absorb them slowly; this kind of pacing was something Pink Floyd excelled at. Also worth noting is the "Another Brick in the Wall/The Happiest Days of Our Lives" medley, which has become a staple of rock radio. —Genevieve Williams

Pixies

Placebo Forget the crumpled post-coital comedown of Without You I'm Nothing. Placebo's third album, Black Market Music, sees the London trio with a predilection for debauched hedonism back at the top of their form. Molko has wised up, realised that there's more to life than hedonism—and no, it doesn't mean he should have to give up all his fun. He's discovered limitations (see the harder, groove-based single "Taste In Men" and the truly chilling "Commercial For Levi" where he states "I understand the fascination/I've even been there one or twice" before going on to add "please don't die"). One indication of Placebo's re-birth is the storming collaboration with psychedelic US rapper Justin Warfield "Spite & Malice" which rocks harder than a thousand "Brick Shithouse"s. There are songs like the profane New Order-esque "Special K" with its female pop harmonies, and meaty bass courtesy of supreme queen Stefan, where Placebo sound even more spiteful and resonant than before. The more contemplative "Passive/Aggressive" brings the pace down a little, before the dance-orientated "Black-Eyed" ends everything soaring into the stratosphere once more. Black Market Musiccould well turn out to be Placebo's finest moment. —Jerry Thackray

Placebo Brian Molko, everyone's favourite ladyboy, certainly made his mark withPlacebo's most notorious single: "Nancy Boy", a tale of gay sex and eye-holes in paper bags launched a dozen Student Union Bar spoofs("Bacon sandwich up my bum / Watching Newsnightjust for fun") and propelled Placebo into the Top 10 and tabloid infamy with a single deft stroke. As David Bowie's protégées—he personally invited them to support him on his European tour and plugged them everywhere he went—it—it's no surprise to find Placebometallic and shiny with his double-jointed glam riffery. Married to the heavy metal and Cure records Placebo obviously adore, it makes for an unexpectedly compelling sound: the sheer sleazy energy of the aforementioned "Nancy Boy" made its simple buzzy mantra horribly addictive, while "Bruise Pristine" hardly ruins the party.—Caitlin Moran

Placebo

Plain White T's

Primal Scream After peddling fey indie-pop in the mid-Eighties, Bobby Gillespie's Primal Scream took a quantum, inspired leap with the Andy Weatherall and Terry Farley-produced Screamadelica, which melds the trippy, blissed-out ethos of acid rock with its more rhythm and sample oriented late Eighties counterpart, acid house. Screamadelicais a meeting of supposedly hostile genres, like American and Russian astronauts docking together in orbit—a musical marriage made in space. All of the elements on Screamadelica—piano, samples, gospel singers, dub-drenched rhythms—float about weightlessly amidst one another, as if beyond gravity's pull. And gliding above it all is Gillespie himself, at best on "Higher Than The Sun", vocals at once ecstatic and wistful, staring down at a world that's yet to catch up with where he's at. In time, Screamadelicawould come to be regarded as one of the defining albums of its era. —David Stubbs

Primal Scream It's seldom that a band's sixth album is their best, but Exterminatoris nothing less than a radical new dawn. Only a few years before, Primal Scream seemed spent—a smack-addled joke, numbing the pain with the idle comfort of rock & roll cliché. Exterminatoris the Scream's baptism of fire—an album with a righteous social conscience, it rages against apathy and injustice with all the funk-fuelled indignation of Sly & The Family Stone's There's A Riot Goin' On. Musically, too, Exterminatoris shackled together with a coherence that's eluded them since 1991. From the tense industrial trance of "Swastika Eyes", to the scurvy-thin hip-hop of "Pills" and the exultant Krautrock of "Shoot Speed Kill Light", one minute the 'Scream are diseased and desperate, the next they're basking in glorious, righteous euphoria. Thank the guests, certainly—the Chemical Brothers, New Order's Bernard Sumner, My Bloody Valentine's Kevin Shields—but when you hear Bobby Gillespie screaming "from here to where?", on the hyper-distorted pedal-to-the-metal drag-race of "Accelerator", you'll know he's the one with the road map to a terrific rock & roll future. —Louis Pattison

The Prodigy Crawling out of the end of the rave scene, the Prodigy's second album went straight in at number one in the charts. All the tracks have the unique stamp of Liam Howlett and the boys, from the hypnotic atmosphere of aggression and attitude on "Poison" and "Voodoo People" to the guitar-driven "Their Law" (featuring the now defunct Pop Will Eat Itself) and the breakbeat tech-house of "No Good (Start the Dance)". One of the few dance acts to retain underground credibility and huge mainstream popularity, Music For The Jilted Generationshows The Prodigy at their best. Any modern music collection seems barren without its presence. —Ed Potton

Queen Queen brought a whole new meaning to the phrase over the top. While rock & roll flamboyance stretched back at least as far as Little Richard, Freddie Mercury continued to camp it up, taking little seriously and smirking at the music's growing pretensions while partaking in them no small bit. Many of the band's singles hold up extremely well, such as "Bohemian Rhapsody", "Killer Queen" and "You're My Best Friend". The quartet's canny sense of melody and sophisticated vocal harmonies—not to mention Mercury's raised eyebrow—have travelled well through the years. —Rickey Wright

Queen

Queens of the Stone Age Lullabies to Paralyzeis the first Queens of the Stone Age album released since the rather messy departure of co-conspirator Nick Oliveri, but this by no means sounds like a Josh Homme solo project. Granted, opening track "Lullaby" is a mellow ballad, but as it's sung by Mark Lanegan, it can hardly count as Homme's flirtation with self-indulgence. And besides, once "Medication" kicks in with the tell-tale chugga-chugga guitars that have marked every previous QOTSA release, it'd be impossible to mistake this album for anyone else. The loss of Oliveri is almost compensated for by the appearance of some top-flight guests: from Billy Gibbons of ZZ Top (on the appropriately bluesy "Burn the Witch" and on the penultimate track) to Garbage's Shirley Manson and The Distillers' Brody Dalle. Best of all, though, is the accelerating riff of "Someone's in the Wolf", which is one of the most air-guitar-worthy songs of recent years. On the whole, Lullabies to Paralyzeis never as good as Rated Ror Songs for the Deaf, but few modern rock albums are. If the Queens of the Stone Age have one fault, it's that they've set their own standards too high. —Robert Burrow

Queens Of The Stone Age

Queens of the Stone Age On Songs for the Deaf, core Queens of the Stone Age members Nick Oliveri and Josh Homme, with the help of like-minded consorts Dave Grohl and Mark Lanegan, balance pure guitar-induced carnage with more complex, though no less aggressive, speed rock that whips by so fast it creates its own breeze. The disc explodes with "You Think I Ain't Worth a Dollar, But I Feel Like a Millionaire", a toxic squall of power chords and now-classic Oliveri death howls. It's here the album's recurring concept/conceit is introduced, as a generic-sounding announcer from LA's "Clone" radio spits out some psychobabble reinforcing the tired if true cliché that commercial radio stinks. Similar mock broadcasts surface elsewhere, but they're easily forgivable, given the bounty on offer.

Homme-powered tracks dominate—the lurching, weirdly springy single "No One Knows" is a kind of "Monster Mash" for grown-ups; the vocal harmony-driven "The Sky Is Falling" is almost dreamy until a small army of guitars surge to the front lines to begin firing. And a lyrically winking hidden track, "Mosquito Song", is either an in-joke of ridiculous proportions or a declarative statement about the level of musicianship lurking just beneath the quaking veneer of the Queens' sound. Either way, genuine excitement comes early and often on Songs for the Deaf. It's a remarkable achievement—a hard rock record so good that it immediately evokes a conspiratorial fervour that makes you want to tell everyone you can about it. Er, job done. —Kim Hughes

Radiohead More song-driven and acoustic than Kid A, Radiohead's Amnesiacisn't quite "Kid B," but it is unquestionably cut from the same far-out cloth, as the band revels in fascinating quirks and abject nihilism. It's also the first time in Radiohead's career that a new record hasn't meant a complete shift in artistic priorities. Surely, however, regardless of which was released first, they both deserve recognition; after all, Amnesiac, like Kid A, is an amazing piece of work.

Only lightly augmented with electronics, songs like "You and Whose Army?" and "I Might Be Wrong" almost sound like they came from a typical five-piece rock band. You may even believe the band still employs a guitarist after hearing Jonny Greenwood's wistful surf-guitar lead on "Knives Out" or his subtle but noticeable contributions to the anticapitalist rant "Dollars and Cents." But inevitably, the band continually shifts gears, moving into Boards of Canada territory on "Like Spinning Plates" and delivering dark, bass-laden oddities like "Pulk/Pull Revolving Doors," a fuzzed-out piece of avant-garde techno that could just as easily be on an Autechre or Aphex Twin record. The song's half-sung, half-spoken vocal was laid down by either a heavily distorted Thom Yorke or, just perhaps, a loquacious microwave oven. Either way, the music always has momentum, regardless of whether propelled by man or appliance. Radiohead as a band understand how to make rock interesting again, and in the end, that's all they set out to do when they recorded Amnesiac, as well as Kid A. It's more than can be said for the bad frat-punk, teen-pop and soulless techno that currently rules the charts, and for that alone, Radiohead's astonishing exploration of 21st-century anguish deserves credit. —Matthew Cooke

Radiohead While Radiohead saw its stock rising in 1994, it wasn't until 1995's The Bendsthat it really became a blue chip band. And for good reason. The quintet honed its talent for bombastic Brit Rock, yet still preserved an edge of unpredictability. Even singles like the title track didn't give in to the kind of swooning guitar clichés usually embraced by commercial radio. If the CD proved anything, it was that Radiohead could find solid ground between pop experimentation and the tradition of born-in-the-bone, balls-out rock. —Nick Heil

Radiohead Filling the gulf between OK Computer's epic progressive rock and Kid A's skittering electronic theatrics, Hail to the Thiefborrows equally from each. Its title implies that this will be a collection filled with songs of anger and dissent, but Radiohead no longer howl at the moon like they did on 1995's The Bends. Instead, they use eloquent metaphors and complicated arrangements to express the uncertainty, fear and anger arising from the 2000 U.S. presidential election and a post-9/11 world. There’s no doubt about where Thom Yorke and company stand; the prog-rock break on "2 + 2 = 5" and Yorke's terror at the thought of being "put in a dock" make that immediately clear. But there's a prevailing sense of powerlessness here. The tinkling piano behind the cold sonic surface of "Backdrifts" and the brief, swooping melody in the middle of "Sail to the Moon" are islands in a sea of confusion. Like the band's best work, Thiefrequires more than a few listens to fully appreciate, but those who stick around will be richly rewarded. —Matthew Cooke

Radiohead By now, everyone knows how adventurous Radiohead are, which makes this live record—a hairy rock-band cliché—seem like a strange capper to their decidedly cliché-rejecting records. But throughout the hubbub surrounding Kid A, and its Amnesiaccompanion piece, Radiohead never embraced the notion that they're reinventing anything. Even while a tempest of critics hailed the band as saviors, pulling rock from the jaws of consumerist self-destruction, the band ignored it all, going into stadiums and working out their twisted angst through angry, direct means. "National Anthem"'s fuzzed-out riff rages aggressively behind Thom Yorke's crazed, breath-scat vocal, giving the song a rollicking edge that was nowhere on Kid A. The same effect is heard on "Idioteque," as Yorke, getting backup vocal help from the crowd, sings over an acoustic beat, removing the distant, electronic touch of the studio version. "True Love Waits" aptly ends the record with Yorke and a solo acoustic guitar, which finds just the right touch on a song that Radiohead have played with for years (long-term fans should note the first ever appearance on record of the track). In the end, Radiohead don't really stray too far from the original templates of these songs, they merely play up the highs and milk the lows, just like any good rock band should. — Matthew Cooke

Radiohead How is it that Kid A's opening track, laden with an electronic vocal stuttering "bleh, bluh-bleh bleh bluh" is the most fascinating statement made in rock & roll this year? Because somehow, even when Radiohead blathers and blips nonsense, it's profound. The band's future-perfect musical grammar may be hard to decipher, and the melody is even more subliminal, but the journey traveled with Radiohead reveals them to be not only rock music's greatest adventurers in 2000, but teachers as well. —Beth Massa

Radiohead Radiohead's third album got compared to Pink Floyd a lot when it came out, and its slow drama and conceptual sweep certainly put it in that category. OK Computer, though, is a complicated and difficult record: an album about the way machines dehumanize people that's almost entirely un-electronic; an album by a British "new wave of new wave" band that rejects speed and hooks in favor of languorous texture and morose details; a sad and humanist record whose central moment is Thom Yorke crooning "We hope that you choke." Sluggish, understated, and hard to get a grip on, OK Computertakes a few listens to appreciate, but its entirety means more than any one song. —Douglas Wolk

Radiohead Before Radiohead became the biggest critics' darling since Pavement or Dr. Dre, they were just another pre-Oasis British band with some loose indie ties, trying to gain some cred. Loopy enough to name this moody, often battering debut album for a Jerky Boys routine, they were also a lot more interesting when they hadn't yet learned the word "soundscape.""Creep," the miserably majestic single they now claim nearly ruined them, may not even be the best thing here; try "Anyone Can Play Guitar," an epitaph for River Phoenix before the fact. —Rickey Wright

Ramin Djawadi

Ramones

Ray Charles

Red Hot Chili Peppers With valuable assistance from producer Rick Rubin, the Peppers find just the right blend of punk, funk, and hip-hop. Even with a running time of 74 minutes, this 1991 breakthrough has continuity and cohesion both within and across the 17 cuts. Riding Flea's surging bass, Anthony Kiedis delivers his explicit lyrics with a rapper's flair, extolling the virtues (and outlining the dangers) of sex and drugs. Plaintive ballads such as "Breaking the Girl", "I Could Have Lied", and the hit "Under the Bridge" give the album depth and provide contrast to the raw energy of "Mellowship Slinky in B Major", "Funky Monks", and "Give It Away". Rubin masterfully fuses John Frusciante's raunchy guitar with the irresistible grooves. —Marc Greilsamer

Red Hot Chili Peppers The problem Anthony Kiedis and his supremely dysfunctional musical family faced when beginning work on their eighth album, By the Way, wasn't so much how to top (or even compare) to the critical and commercial euphoria of 1999's superb Californication, but more how to avoid the comedown that followed their other highpoint—Blood Sex Sugar Magik—where One Hot Minuteturned into several long years that nearly finished them. They decided, it seems, to just shut their eyes, press pedal to metal and continue as before. It's worked magnificently—no small thanks to the canny production of Rick Rubin again and the cohesive gelling Frusciante back into what has now emerged as a tight, focused unit (despite the album being, as ever, about five songs too long——"Midnight—"Midnight" and "Minor Thing" for instance). Minor quibbles though, for when the Chili Peppers are average, they still tower over most other bands.

"By The Way", by far not the best cut here (those would be the quite wonderful "Tear" and widescreen "Don't Forget Me"), picks up where Californicationleft off, but is not representative of an album that frequently revisits the sunshine harmonies of "Road Trippin'" and desolate landscape of "Scar Tissue". Endlessly surprising and hugely engaging, the Chili Peppers have opened their eyes and found themselves with a another great record on their hands, solidifying both themselves as a group and their position as one of the world's best rock bands. —Ben Johncock

Red Hot Chili Peppers Following a string of unsatisfactory replacements (including former Jane's Addiction alum Dave Navarro), Californication—the band's seventh album—saw them reunited with both errant guitarist John Frusciante (hauled out of a long and debilitating heroin addiction) and producer Rick Rubin, whose mixture of commerical nous and sonic smarts helped make 1991's Blood Sugar Sex Magik their breakthrough set. It's a welcome reunion: Frusciante's playing, in particular—tight, yet lyrical—fits these songs like a second skin, lending them a sensual sort of ease that is perfectly in keeping with the reckless hedonism of their lyrics. The songs themselves are much the same mixture of adrenalised swagger and high-tensile funk as ever. And typically, there are two or three fillers here ("Emit Remmus", "Purple Stain") which probably should have been left on the shelf. Ultimately, though, it's their ballads ("Road Trippin'", the moody, desolate "Scar Tissue") which really demonstrate their strengths, both as songwriters and arrangers—and reveal, albeit briefly, the hearts this crew normally take such pains to conceal. —Andrew McGuire

REM Not quite as flawless as a masterpiece should be—what—what's the slight "New Orleans Instrumental No. 1" doing among such remarkably grounded material?—Automatic For The Peoplestill deserves its reputation as one of REM's best. Another link in the band's chain of 90's classics, it hits each mood—the glum teen-spirit report of "Drive", the sensual wash of "Star Me Kitten" and the gorgeously transcendent "Find The River,"—perfectly. Fittingly, Michael Stipe's lyrics are among his most coherent and empathetic. This will be recalled, and listened to, as a great work long after REM have packed it in. —Rickey Wright

REM In 1988, REM were a cult on the cusp of major success. In 1992 they were somewhere close to being the biggest band in the world. In 2003, they're marginalised again, a middle-aged institution purportedly on the wane. Still, uninformed listeners to In Timemight find it tricky to work out which songs come from which era. The 18 singles collected here in non-chronological order show a band that's operated at a terrifyingly high standard throughout the period, so that less lauded songs like "The Great Beyond" stand proud alongside the familiar anthems from the early 1990s. Of course, these compilations are sent to irritate loyalists, whose relief at the inclusion of "E-Bow the Letter" (a mesmerising duet with Patti Smith from 1996) will be undermined by the bewildering absence of 1992's tearjerking epiphany "Find the River". For a more comprehensive survey of REM's excellence, you'll also need The Best of REM, the highlights of their elliptical early years. One suspects a box set which tells the full story of this enduring band can't be that far away. For now, though, In Timewill do well enough. —John Mulvey

REM After REM's somewhat ambitious 1996 album, New Adventures in Hi-Fi, failed to light up the charts, you might have figured the band would return to the rock-solid bombast of Monsteror the consumer-friendly pop of Green. But REM have enough cash not to worry about commercial failure, and they've already been to the top of the mountain, so for now they'd rather explore its lush valleys and secret caves. Upis an atmospheric journey as impressionistic as Enya and as evocative as John Barry. Some critics have compared it with the band's delicate and emotionally revealing gem Automatic for the People, but Upis more ambitious and creative. Sure, most of the songs are pastoral, but they're undercut with drama and sonic experimentation. The melodies are generally spare, the beats sparse. Guitars flicker in and out, providing tension and dynamics, while quivering strings, layered keyboards, and washes of feedback colour the songs like textured lines of paint in an oil portrait. The only blatant pop song is the single "Daysleeper". The rest of the album ebbs and flows, each song a separate component of a complete artistic expression. The sound may be influenced by guitarist Peter Buck's cinematic jazz side project Tuatara or by Michael Stipe's celluloid excursions, but its source doesn't matter. What's important is that more than a decade after their sell-by date, REM continue to challenge and inspire. Things are definitely looking up. —Jon Wiederhorn

Republica

Republica The sound of an idea being stretched beyond breaking point, Speed Ballads is an album too far for Republica. A couple of infectious hit singles——"Drop Dead Gorgeous", "Ready To Go"—had, for a while, obscured the fact that Republica were essentially Transvision Vamp without the entertaining interviews, but nothing on Speed Ballads offers the same sort of (even) fleetingly distracting sugar rush. Singer Saffron deserves slight credit for writing a lyric claiming "Fizzydrinks rot your brain" so soon after appearing in commercials for Pepsi, but that mildly amusing subversion does little to redeem an otherwise teeth-grindingly ordinary album. In the end, all that Speed Ballads offers is a lesson learnt the hard way by Sigue Sigue Sputnik and so many others of their ilk—that nothing dates so fast, and so badly, as this sort of self-conscious futurism. —Andrew Mueller

Rolling Stones Before Keith Richards' bad habits took over for a time in the mid-'70s, his work ethic was quite high. Stories abound of the long, if somewhat off-schedule, hours he spent working on this classic album in the basement of his home in France. Hanging together as much because of great songwriting ("Rocks Off,""Soul Survivor") as its fabled grungy atmosphere, Exile caps the Stones' great 1968-'72 run with a force that belies their supposed spiritual tiredness. What some of these songs are about is anybody's guess—Keith claims "Ventilator Blues" was inspired by a grate, while the song plays like an ode to a pistol—but that's just part of this album's hazy game. —Rickey Wright

Rolling Stones

Royksopp Melody AM, the debut from Norwegian outfit Royksopp, is widely being touted for "classic" status. Far from "just another chill-out" album, this is a richly textured feast of warm, late-night food for the soul. The songs seem to reflect the extremes of the environment they were produced in—the sorrowful "She's So", a tribute to almost 24-hour winter darkness of Royksopp's motherland, and the lilting warmth of "Royksopp's Night Out", a literal dance in the midnight sun. In the tradition of bands such as Air and Groove Armada, this is a sound that could almost make it to the dance floor—if it could bear to leave the comfort of the sofa behind. The infectious "Poor Leno" hints at what their dance productions (and they do exist) might sound like, and as a whole, Melody AMwill leave you wanting to get your hands on anything and everything else "the 'Sopp" have ever touched. —Ruby Tuesday

Savage Garden Following the success of "Truly Madly Deeply" and "To The Moon & Back", songs of similar slushy and sentimental pop ilk, one would be forgiven for equating Australian duo Darren Hayes and Daniel Jones—aka Savage Garden—with romantic pop songs. The reality is that this is only one area of music in which the partnership truly excels. The cute and talented duo rock out on tracks like "Tears of Pearls", and sound disconcertingly like Michael Jackson a la Bad era on "Break Me Shake Me", which—if you're a fan of that kind of music—is no bad thing. The lyrics range from verging on the deep ("On the telephone line I am anyone/I am anything I wanna be/I could be a supermodel or Norman Mailer") to wonderfully throwaway ("Sweet like a chic-a-cherry cola"), and the album as a whole hints at greater things to come from this band. —Ronita Dutta

Scissor Sisters Those dismissing the self-titled Scissor Sistersas a product of New York's latest fad band are jumping to conclusions. Yes, there's a certain cabaret aspect to what they do, but that's not to dismiss them as frivolous nightclub entertainment. That's only half the story. "Comfortably Numb" may have nodded to gay disco but this eclectic bunch of fashionistas have more interesting reference points tucked up their puff sleeves. If anything, the prevailing mood here is sunny AM rock, the kind of thing you might have tuned into in 70s New Jersey. "Take Your Mamma Out", perhaps the first song about coming out to your mother in a gay club, and sung by Jake Shears like primetime Elton, is a cracker. So too "Tits on the Radio"—slick barroom boogie that takes a venomous swipe at New York's increasing conservatism. Best here, though, is the anthemic "It Can't Come Quickly Enough", a retro carve-up of Nick Kershaw and the Pet Shop Boys that's more powerful than it sounds. Ignore it at your peril. —Paul Tierney

Semisonic Despite its title (All About Chemistry), Semisonic's latest—a radio-bright successor to the multi-million success of Feeling Strangely Fine—pulls down first class honours in different disciplines entirely. Lyrically, the latest collection of airwave-snogging pop from Dan Wilson is patently all about biology. Perhaps the album's greatest charm is, in fact, in its unabashed interest in matters mating-related, from life's daisy chain of sexual initiations (the cheekily contrived and practically flawless title track) to, well, masturbation (the even cheekier "Get A Grip") to redemptive, uxorious longing (the gorgeous Brill Building classicism of "One True Love", co-written with Carole King). The twist here lies in married, thirty-something Wilson's knack—one his wrinkly fifty-something rock predecessors have yet to learn—of obsessing about sex from (rather than in spite of) an adult perspective. Self-abuse and all. Sonically, however, this album's all about geometry—or, if you prefer, engineering. Precision-mixed by leave-nothing-to-chance heavyweights Bob Clearmountain and Tom Lord-Alge, the quirks and upfront guitars that peppered Feeling Strangely Finehave been smoothed out in favour of straight ahead, keyboard-led mid-tempo melodies ("Act Naturally", "She's Got My Number", "Follow") that read like a smarter, wryer Hall And Oates. And which may well be Semisonic's strongest subject on a pretty much error-free exam paper. —Jennifer Nine

Semisonic College rock's been done by everyone from literate romantics to heads-down bar bands to power-pop hooksmiths... but seldom by bands who can be all three—and score hit singles to boot. And in Semisonic's native Minneapolis, where the career of shambolic nearly-men The Replacements looms over the music scene like the dead (drunk) hand of history, the success part of the equation is even less likely. Against the odds, then, this trio's gleamingly produced second album not only hit the charts in the States, where wryly-observed anthem "Closing Time" was tailor-made for festival audiences, but in the UK, where the purring, Hall & Oates-ish "Secret Smile" seduced radio listeners who'd barely heard of musical kindred spirits The Posies and Fountains Of Wayne.

Beyond the singles, though, even album tracks here get the balance of bar-band crunch and pop kid swoon just right. Stuffed with Todd Rundgren/Big Star-style hooks and harmonies, Feeling Strangely Finehas a Wilco-like grasp of the joys of pop songs about pop in the compilation-cassette love story of "Singing In My Sleep" and the infectious self-deprecation of "This Will Be My Year". In a rare case of Minnesota guys finishing first, the latter's prediction even came true. —Jennifer Nine

Semisonic Like the Rembrandts before them and Deep Blue Something after them, Semisonic generally give every impression of being a slightly clueless major label A&R department's idea of what an alternative pop group is supposed to sound like. Though the songs are competently constructed, and one or two of the tunes are pretty enough, there is, at the heart of it, a curious empty feeling. Semisonic's songwriting mainstays, Messrs Slichter and Wilson, have unarguably great taste—Great Divideis very obviously what results of a lifetime spent listening to Elvis Costello, the Smithereens, the Smiths, REM and the Replacements. Unfortunately, they rarely display any sign of what it takes to communicate anything beyond the fact that they like cool records. "If I Run" and "I'll Feel For You" are both abundantly whistle-able, but the world would not be a remotely different place if neither had ever been written. Great Divideis all frosting and no cake. —Andrew Mueller

Sheryl Crow Despite the photographic presence of an acoustic guitar (the rock & roll equivalent of a rubber bullet), the enviably lovely hair and the unassuming knitwear, Sheryl Crow is staring back at us from the cover of The Very Best Ofwith her chin resting on a fist clenched tightly with white-knuckled defiance. This is, after all, the girl whose wishful thinking led her to sing "All I wanna do is have some fun" while privately preferring to either curl up in bed for a very long time or roll over and die (she's recently come out of the closet with regards to her longstanding battles with depression).

Yes, she's earned herself an armful of Grammys and has been damned with faint praise, but if you go easy on the relatively troublesome second-half of Sheryl Crow's 10-year solo career (the poppy optimism of songs like "C'mon C'mon" and "Soak Up the Sun" seems strained), then this decade-acknowledging resumé serves as a reminder of her narrative talents for summarising the pitfalls of burdensome workloads ("Everyday Is a Winding Road") and problematic squeezes ("My Favourite Mistake") within an MTV-friendly pop framework. Questionably, such gems as the James Bond theme "Tomorrow Never Dies" and the US abortion issue commentary of "Hard to Make a Stand" (both sizeable UK hits) have been omitted to make room for three new tracks, two of which, the evangelical "Light in Your Eyes" and the post-9/11 "Let's Get Free" betray the influences of George Harrison and the Beatles. —Kevin Maidment

Smashing Pumpkins Upon the release of Gish—the group's debut—in the summer of 1991, more than one rock aficionado hailed the Smashing Pumpkins as the best band to come out of Chicago since Ministry. A bold statement, yes, but one backed up by Billy Corgan's Hendrix-like riffs and searing signature guitar tone. Intriguing songwriting is evidenced from the start as well, with the driving, amped-up rock of "I Am One,""Siva," and "Tristessa" contrasted with the soothingly eerie psychedelic flavor of "Rhinoceros" and "Window Paine."Gishpredates the band's movement toward the loop-based electronic sounds heard in their late-'90s works, yet the seeds for this transition are definitely apparent. Electro guru Tricky even sampled the backbeat from "Suffer" in the tributary "Pumpkin" on his sex-soaked Maxinquaye. Butch Vig shows off his chops as producer and cultivates signature dramatic moods on Gish, which helped put the Smashing Pumpkins on the map as one of the most important alt-rock bands of the '90s—much to the delight of the decade's disenfranchised youth. —Brad Zinser

Smashing Pumpkins Emotionally over-the-top pop extravaganzas like the string-swelling "Tonight Tonight," the Metallica-influenced alternative rock of "Zero," the techno via new wave of "1979"—the 28 songs on this swell two-disc album are as eclectic as their themes are epic and ambitious. Billy Corgan's thin whine isn't much of an instrument, but he makes the most of it by writing smart songs that take emotional chances that more-typical alt rockers would deem uncool. Pessimistic and feeling trapped but still wanting to believe in love, in a future, in something—this is the sound of Gen X at the millennium, with all the self-indulgence and power that would suggest. —David Cantwell

Smashing Pumpkins The Smashing Pumpkins are a bigrock band, molded by leader Billy Corgan after stadium and progressive rock giants from the Seventies. As such it's only fitting that after only two albums they would release a collection of B-sides. The result, Pisces Iscariot, is not only a good compendium to their other work, but it's a very good record in its own right. Most of the 14 tracks follow the Pumpkins' blueprint, traveling sonically from soft to loud and back again. Among the slew of originals previously available on singles and imports is a hauntingly beautiful cover of Fleetwood Mac's "Landslide." Surprisingly there's less fat here than on 1995's bloated Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness. —Greg Emmanuel

Smashing Pumpkins An introductory drum roll drops out and is replaced by a single suspended electric guitar, which is then paralleled by a snare, filled in with the bass, and—crash!——"Cherub Rock," the opening track, is enveloped in an explosion of metal guitar. So the journey begins. This album is pre-experimentation vintage Pumpkins. Produced by Butch Vig (Garbage, Sonic Youth, Nirvana's Nevermind), Siamese Dreamis first about guitars. Lots and lots of guitars. A very close second is Jimmy Chamberlain's unquestionably excellent power drumming. Throughout each song, Billy Corgan delivers angsty lyrics in his signature breathy whine. "Disarm" is a nice intermission halfway though the album. As the title of the song suggests, it throws the listener into a different mood with its full string arrangements and radiant orchestral chimes. But then it is back to the aural masochism—a pain that rarely sounds so sweet. —Beth Bessmer

The Smashing Pumpkins With Adore, Smashing Pumpkins return to the forefront of rock to do a dance with a new partner. Trading white-noise vocals and guitars for caramel crooning and dense synthesizers, frontman Billy Corgan drives bandmates James Iha and D'Arcy to a lush aural plateau. The darkness is still there—evidenced in the techno throb of the single "Ava Adore"—but the Pumpkins also tinker with Lennonesque lullabyes ("Behold! The Night Mare"), midtempo electronica ("Appels and Oranjes"), and tender calliope music ("Once Upon a Time"). Smartly, Corgan rarely upstages the watery sounds going on behind him; the trademark midsong blowouts are almost completely absent. Adorewill strike your ears and heart in a way you didn't think the Smashing Pumpkins could. —Jason Josephes

The Smashing Pumpkins Earphoria is something of a head-scratcher. A sprawling, mostly live collection of tracks recorded in concert and during television performances, the disc stops short of the Smashing Pumpkins mid-1990s' commercial peak, with the latest offering culled from 1994. What's more, there's a roughness to the edits, suggesting a quick turnaround or possibly a lack of involvement from infamous perfectionist and Pumpkin head Billy Corgan. "Soma", for instance, fades abruptly, mid-applause. Better-known tracks such as "Disarm" and "Today"—recorded on English TV and in Chicago, respectively—offer negligible changes over their studio siblings. Collectors will appreciate "French Movie Theme" and the rambling, unhinged—and quarter-hour-long——"Why Am I So Tired". But really, this one is for die-hards only and a pale companion to 2001's comprehensive greatest-hits collection, Rotten Apples. —Kim Hughes

The Smashing Pumpkins The Smashing Pumpkins' greatest-hits album, Rotten Apples traces the band's evolution (or devolution, depending on your feelings about the band's radical sonic shift in the mid-1990s) from its early days to its status among the kings of alt rock. For fans of the Pumpkins' beginnings as a tripped-out indie/art-rock act, Apples opens with some of the band's strongest material. "Shiva" and "Rhinoceros" (from Gish, the Pumpkin's first album) seamlessly mixed dream pop with noisy Goth-rock as prime examples of the Pumpkins' early 1990s sound. Apples also showcases three stellar tracks ("Cherub Rock", "Today" and "Disarm") from Siamese Dream, the Pumpkins' breakthrough album. This disc makes the band's mid-90s' directional swing obvious, though, starting with "Bullet With Butterfly Wings" the aggressive alt rock/alt metal concoction released on Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness. Fans of songs such as "Zero", "Tonight, Tonight" and "The Everlasting Gaze" will be happy to know that pretty much every cage rattling hit made it to this disc, along with the previously unreleased dream-pop track "Real Love" and an untitled new track (that sounds a lot like the Siamese Dream-era Pumpkins) to round out the mix. —Jennifer Maerz

The Smashing Pumpkins With the doubters hovering round his band following the rock-is-dead pronouncement that preceded the flawed electronic dabblings of Adore, Machinafinds Billy Corgan desperate to prove everyone, not least himself, wrong. On their fifth album, the Pumpkins attempt to reclaim the higher ground they dominated with the peerless Siamese Dreamand the sprawling 28-track opus Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness. As a result, they hit the ground running on Machina, exploding into life with "The Everlasting Gaze" and its firestorm of guitars and heavy metaphysical thunder. There are some quintessential Pumpkins moments here, notably "Stand Inside Your Love," which soars away on a spiraling guitar solo, and "Try, Try, Try," which taps into Corgan's ever-present melancholy. At 73 minutes long, Machinaoverstays its welcome, beginning to flag, ironically, at the self-aggrandizing "Heavy Metal Machine." No matter—the Pumpkins have made their point with brutal grace. —Mike Pattenden

Soundgarden "Fell on Black Days", indeed. Seattle sludge slingers Soundgarden made a living out of cathartic, woe-is-me wailing (we're talking the banshee vocals of Chris Cornell andthe crypt-creaking guitar of Kim Thayil), but this wallowing in grim depression ironically proved to be the band's most uplifting career effort. When the reclusive Cornell ventures out of his shy-guy shell, it's typically via a primal scream of cathartic emotion—he might camp it up with a sophomoric "Spoon Man", but most of this vicious disc leaps straight for your jugular. Generations in the post-millennial future will one day refer to this record to discover exactly how 1990s rock & roll was done. —Tom Lanham

Space

Staind Protégées of Fred Durst they may be, but Massachusetts rock quartet Staind owe precious little to the rap-core fusion that lays at the centre of the Limp Bizkit blueprint. Rather, Break The Cycle—Staind—Staind's follow-up to their million-shifting major label debut Dysfunction—harks back further into to the alt-rock archive. A catalogue of fraught, heart-on-sleeve angst-rock, it's very quickly evident that Staind's heritage lays in the bruised, sensitive emo-grunge of Alice in Chains and Pearl Jam rather than any of their immediate peers. Trouble is, frontman Aaron Lewis' flat vocal lacks the weathered, pained dimension that all too often lent the Seattle sound its eerie pathos, and his lyrics are at best, functional;"Old man lies in an alleyway dead/ A little girl lost just stands there and cries," suggests the hand-wringing misery-tract of "Open Your Eyes"—a rather artless vision of social decay that never actually concludes anything beyond the fact that poverty, drugs and skipping school are very bad things. By the closing live take of "Outside"—on which Fred Durst crops up, popping on his sensitive cap for a syrupy duet with Lewis—you—you're left with the overriding feeling that Staind have absolutely nothing meaningful to say about the human condition; something that renders Break The Cycleas little more than an exercise in futility. —Louis Pattison

Starsailor Although Love Is Here, Starsailor's anxious, soulful folk and urban blues nuanced inaugural album will be less of a culture shock to any scene-follower who experienced, say, Tom McRae's debut from 2000, it will certainly jolt the core beliefs and common cultural values of the British indie scene. Nothing about Starsailor is remotely alternative—at least not in the conventional interpretation of the word—nor perfunctorily fashionable or juvenescent. Cool dads will appreciate them every bit as much as the hip kids. After all, not only is tender-aged singer James Walsh proud to admit to being influenced by Van Morrison and Tim Buckley—blimey, it's like punk never happened—he is also gifted with a larynx as gnarled, emotionally articulate and demonstratively tremulous as the all-time great and latterly underrated Roger Chapman. Debut or no debut, Love Is Here is an assured classic, the exposition of impending mid-life crises and buttoned-up desperation (typical lyric: "I need to be alone while I suffer") conveyed through an impassioned and distinctly non-rock lexicon of shuffling jazz percussion, metronomic acoustic guitars and keyboards which veer—Ray Manzarek style—between decorative cocktail piano and ice rink organ (courtesy of former crematorium organist Barry Westhead). The gooseflesh frisson of "Tie Up My Hands" and "Poor Misguided Fool" is palpable, the taut, dispirited burnout of "Fever" and "Talk Her Down" fantastically lucid. Are Starsailor the future of British pop? Let's bloody hope so. —Kevin Maidment

Stereophonics Three albums in, and Stereophonics have written their first truly mature work, Just Enough Education to Perform. While the Cwmaman trio's first two albums were blighted by the occasional spot of facile pub-rock tub-thumping which served only to dilute Kelly Jones' emotive laments into ear-candy, Just Enough Education to Perform evokes the ragged croak of Rod Stewart or the world-weary country lament of Neil Young without feeling the need to unnecessarily embellish its content. It's not all good: the album's first single, "Mr Writer"—a stab at dismissive music journalists—is, ironically, petulant and unwieldy, spoilt by Jones' clunky lyric: "You've just enough, in my own view, education to perform/ I'd like to shoot you all." Far more successful are the simple semi-acoustic readings of "Nice To Be Out", "Step on My Old Size Nines" and "Lying in the Sun", which prove that, stripped-down, Jones can match most singer-songwriters of an alt-country persuasion without breaking into a sweat. By this time in their career, Oasis began losing themselves in bland bombast and a fog of hollow guitar solos; to its credit, Just Enough Education to Perform does not let fame cloud the clarity of its meaning. —Louis Pattison

Stereophonics

Stereophonics There are three themes to Performance And Cocktails: slow, a bit faster and "hey, let's make a noise for a bit". The former, as heard on "Hurry Up And Wait", start off by making you feel like curling up into a little ball and wallowing, but too much repetition could get wearing, which is why the mid-tempo tunes fill the gaps in the middle with the prettier tunes, like "Just Looking". Yet it's the faster tracks, particularly "The Bartender And The Thief", that hold the most interest. Here, the band can pull themselves out of the mire and show off why they love AC/DC so much—because it's more fun bouncing around a bit than complaining all the time. Performance And Cocktailscovers all bases so thoroughly that it's not surprising it catapulted the Stereophonics into the mainstream. —Emma Johnston

Stereophonics After the release of Word Gets Around, the Stereophonics blistering debut album, word did, indeed, get around, and rightly so. Firm adherents to the philosophy of "write what you know", Kelly Jones escaped the rural Welsh village of his upbringing and unleashed his remarkable songwriting talent on a world outside the valleys. The album title encapsulates its content perfectly—canny small-town observations rooted in real-life experience and drama. The setting is so insular that the rumours, gossip and stories have nothing to do but buzz round from lip to lip, reverberating off the surrounding mountains. Whereas contemporaries such as Super Furry Animals or Oasis may have exuded a more escapist vibe in their early songs, Jones immerses himself in the everyday events of small-town life and admirably demonstrates an unconditional love for the place he grew up.

Possessing an ability to say so much with so few words, his songs are as emotive as they are mosh-inducing, nowhere more aptly demonstrated than in "Local Boy in the Photograph"'s "He'll always be / Twenty-three / Yet the train runs on and on / Past the place they found his clothing," delivered with the kind of rusty-hacksaw vocal that belongs to Satan himself. Balancing this seriousness is a fine line in subtle humour, as displayed on the customer-service frustrations of "More Life in a Tramp's Vest".

However, the closing salvo of "Billy Davey's Daughter" (a song based on a story that, after its release, turned out to be nothing more than a rumour, thus perfectly capturing the very essence of the album) is a wonderful acoustic outro to a solid rock record. The Stereophonics have never bettered this, and it's their cross to bear that they probably never will. —Ben Johncock

Sting

Strokes With all the media hype that dogged the Strokes before the release of their debut album, it's rather apt that they chose the title Is This It?. On the strength of just five songs, released over two singles, the Strokes were being hailed as everything from the saviours of rock & roll to the Saviour Himself. Surely, few bands could live up to the impossibly high standards set for this young five-piece, but they needn't have worried: Is This It?is one of the most exciting and energetic debut albums to spring from New York's long-dormant club scene. In fact, the Strokes are a New York City band through-and-through; like the Velvet Underground, these are a bunch of uptown artsy types elegantly slumming downtown to the tried-and-tested themes of sex, drugs and rock & roll. Their singer/songwriter, the fantastically named Julian Casablancas, delivers his lyrics with a weary nonchalance that belies his age on songs such as the title track, "Soma", "Hard to Explain" and the altogether wonderful "Barely Legal", while the band recall the likes of Television and the Stooges on "NYC Cops", "Last Night" and "The Modern Age". Sexy, stylish and undeniably cool, here's hoping that the Strokes are the future of rock & roll. —Robert Burrow

The Strokes Rarely has the burden of expectation weighed so heavily as it does on the Strokes' second album. Room on Fireis an overwhelmingly anxious record, where the band's dilemmas are there for everyone to hear: should they make another record as concise as Is This It? Will they be able to capitalise on their wiry winning formula but avoid exhausting it? And can Julian Casablancas be convincingly offhand when we now know how much effort he makes to sound so disinterested? As a result, Room on Fireisn't an entirely successful album, but it's certainly a compelling one—the testament of five handsomely talented men struggling to work out what should happen next. At worst, songs like "You Talk Way Too Much" are paranoid retreads where the Strokes, having minted such a precise and appealing sound, seem doomed to repeat it in progressively more joyless ways.

But there are moments when Casablancas nudges his band into new, promising directions. "12:51" seems malnourished on first listen, but its sulky, understated twists soon turn out to be memorable. "Reptilia", meanwhile, showcases the fabulous—and teasingly underexploited—guitar playing of Albert Hammond and Nick Valensi, being a collection of chiming riffs and tumbling solos that suggest the Strokes should allow themselves the freedom to rock more often. Oh, and "Under Control" is a dream—specifically, one where the Smiths are playing "Tracks of My Tears". Best think of Room on Fire, then, as an album where the Strokes plot their escape from the predictable, but are a little too cautious to make a proper getaway. Courage, gentlemen. —John Mulvey

Sum 41 If you've heard Blink 182, the Offspring, or Green Day, you've heard Sum 41, with or without All Killer No Filler. The Canadian quartet's California punk formula is a well-worn one that seems to be working: set poppy, three-chord rock to hyperactive speeds, write songs about why you don't care and play up your juvenile-delinquent side for all it's worth (check out the "Going, Going, Gonorrhea" video with the band "doing all the dangerous and immature stuff you shouldn't try from the safety of your own home"). Of course, this has all been done before and will continue to be rehashed again as long as a silly, snotty attitude brings in the record company gold. While these punks a re hardly walking down the block less travelled, they still packed All Killerfull of hooks that should snag radio listeners. Peppy sing-along choruses, rolling drum solos and guitar-driven anthems uncork the energy and brightly colour this fast-moving album. —Jennifer Maerz

Super Furry Animals

Super Furry Animals

Super Furry Animals

Thrills

Tori Amos For Tori Amos, sex can be a weapon, a spiritual offering, or an act of protest. It's certainly been the singer/pianist's big subject since her 1989 debut Little Earthquakes. But while her earliest compositions tried to punch every emotional hot button at once and came off sounding turgid and overblown, her new album packs a greater punch by toning down mock-symphonic excess in favour of stark, haunting tracks that contain veiled mysteries. Love cuts both ways on Choirgirl. Songs such as "She's Your Cocaine" and "Cruel" view relationships as vicious power plays, while the protagonists in "Playboy Mommy" and "Northern Lad" desperately seek salvation via emotional connection. Hypnotic, affecting, and frequently gorgeous, From the Choirgirl Hotelis Amos's most accomplished album to date. —Marc Weingarten

Tori Amos Emotionally and musically intense, Little Earthquakesshows that the piano is as much a rock & roll instrument as the guitar. Tori Amos's debut (if one disregards Y Kant Tori Read, as one would be well advised to do) is at once listenable and challenging; she takes on every topic, from sex to gender to religion, in an uncompromising manner. Her music appears gentle at first but this appearance is deceiving, as one quickly learns upon listening to the wrenching "Crucify" or the almost violent "Precious Things". By the time the album gets around to "Me and a Gun", sung hauntingly by Amos without accompaniment from her piano, the juxtaposition of Amos's sweet voice and the emotional complexity of her lyrics is both familiar and shocking. Sandmanfans should listen for a reference to author Neil Gaiman in "Tear in Your Hand". —Genevieve Williams

Tori Amos Scarlet's Walkis perhaps Tori Amos's most intimate album since Little Earthquakes. There are certainly similarities between the two. Thematically, she's still seeking freedom from the brutalising constraints of religion, and deftly mixing biblical and pop culture references. Musically, she's gone back towards basics, minimised the winding, free-form verses and indulgent vocal operatics, and maximised the crushingly beautiful choruses and middle eights (hard to tell which is which with Tori) that are her forte. Of course, she's moved on, as well as looked back. Married for some years, she deals with the acceptance of love, and the importance of personal identity within a long-term relationship. But these things are almost an aside to the music here—dramatic, constantly evolving and wholly emotive. From the jaunty, Weill-style "Wednesday", through the rootsy a cappella "Wampum Prayer", to the heart-rending orchestral brilliance of the closing "Gold Dust", indeed for 14 of the 18 tracks here, Tori is at her absolute best. And you know how good thatis. —Dominic Wills

Tori Amos Tori Amos's Strange Little Girls is a departure as she takes 12 songs written by men about women and delivers them from the female perspective. "Words are like guns" she says, "a person has to take responsibility for their words." So she turns Eminem's "'97 Bonnie & Clyde" into a song of dark misogyny, and reinterprets the Boomtown Rats' "I Don't Like Mondays" with quiet, melodious keyboards and a reflective voice. Neil Young's "Heart of Gold" has been completely recast as banshee rock, while The Stranglers' "Strange Little Girl" has a new post-punk power. Sometimes Amos's own compositions have a tendency to ramble, but these four-minute nuggets have concentrated her skills wonderfully. It's an ambitious record, but one that works. —Lucy O'Brien

Please note that there are four different covers of this album. You will be sent one at random when you purchase it.

Tori Amos This two-CD affair is part live album, part new material which singer/songwriter Tori Amos' muse delivered to her ahead of schedule. As ever with Amos, she doesn't flinch from harrowing subject matter——"Juarez—"Juarez" depicts a bloodied Mexican desert where a mass rape and murder took place, with the squall of ghostly voices recreated by overdub and Amos bleakly intoning the mantra "And no angels came...". Elsewhere, however, Amos trains her idiosyncratic gaze on the darker areas of human intimacy with a new confidence in the resources of the studio and a mature playfulness. "Riot Poof" trounces homophobia with a bouncy, synth-driven glee, "Lust" has two Amos vocal tracks superimposed to represent both the physical and spiritual dimensions of horniness, while "Bliss" exquisitely explores the strains of a father-daughter relationship. Among her best work. —David Stubbs

Tori Amos Under The Pinkwas Tori Amos' follow-up to the sensationally successful Little Earthquakesand demonstrates that she had by no means run out of faeries and demons to sport with. Amos herself describes it as her "impressionistic" album—her piano playing is perfectly attuned to the subtle, shifting colours of her lyrical moods on "Bells For Her", while "Past The Mission" indicates her growing use of distinctive arrangements to illustrate her songs. Highlights include "God", in which Amos demonstrates her often-missed humour, openly taunting the Almighty for his indifference to humanity, asking "Do you need a woman to look after you?"—David Stubbs

Tori Amos (Tribute)

Travis The ultimate slow-burner, Travis's second album infused its way into the psyche of post-Radiohead Britain with an endearingly humble grace. It's not quite certain how Travis went from being the happy-clappy Britpop also-rans of their debut Good Feelingto becoming the gifted pop craftsmen that moulded the gentle emotional trough of the chart-topping The Man Who, but it would seem that the tired, lonely lovelorn niche is one that suits Travis rather well. So, "Writing To Reach You", "Driftwood" and "Why Does It Always Rain On Me?" are the meekest songs to ever eat daytime radio alive. Elsewhere, "As You Are" sounds like Thom Yorke swaddled in blankets, and the closing "Slide Show" punctures rock mythology with an impossibly beautiful lyric: "There is no design for life/ There's no devil's haircut in my mind/ There is not a wonderwall to climb, or step around". —Louis Pattison

Turn

U2 "I'm ready / Ready for what's next," Bono announces at the outset of Achtung Baby, the album that proved the so-called "band of the '80s" was capable of blazing into the '90s by replacing its flag-waving arena-rock stance with screaming synths, clubby rhythms, and industrial skronk. The group advances its sound without losing accessibility on "Who's Gonna Ride Your Wild Horses,""Even Better Than the Real Thing," and "Mysterious Ways," while pushing the envelope a bit more on "The Fly,""Zoo Station," and "Acrobat." The moody ballad "One" is arguably the finest song the band has produced, full of sorrow, compassion, and hope all at the same time. —Daniel Durchholz

U2 The foursome come roaring out of the blocks with their latest collection. The album's first single, "Beautiful Day," raced to the No. 1 slot on the U.K. singles charts and received a similar rapturous reception stateside. From its shimmering preamble to its sweeping, infectious chorus, it perfectly stakes out the middle ground between the anthemic U2 of the '80s and the more grounded group of the '90s. With Daniel Lanois and Brian Eno sharing production chores again after having taken a break with Pop, the U2 team enters the new millennium with their lineup—and mission—intact. —Steven Stolder

U2 One need hear only the first notes of this collection—the Edge's ringing guitar notes ushering in "Pride (In the Name of Love)"-to be taken back to 1984: Ronald Reagan and Maggie Thatcher rule the Western world, the L.A. Olympics is the top sports story, and Ms. Pac-Man reigns at arcades. In rock & roll, there's U2 growing in stature with each new title. Even doubters of the Irish lads have to concede that together they formed the one '80s band with the skill and sense of scale to take over the airwaves and concert stages in a decade of diminished expectations. This 15-song '80s best-of assortment (stick around for the hidden track) spans the decade, reaching back to 1980's "I Will Follow," when Bono and company were peach-fuzzy and earnest as choirboys, and tracking their path through their most glaring misstep, 1988's overblown Rattle and Hum. —Steven Stolder

U2 The album that carries U2 into its 25th year—and likely the mixed blessings of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame—is one of its most frank and focused since the days of Octoberand War. But its gestation was anything but simple, in part salvaged from '03 sessions the band deemed subpar. Enter Steve Lillywhite, the band's original producer and sometime collaborator in the decades since, who helped retool the track "Native Son" (originally an antigun screed) into the aggressive iPod anthem "Vertigo" and leaves his distinctive stamp on the muscular "All Because of You." Perhaps weary of ceaseless, fashion-driven reinvention in the wake of monumental success, U2 seem only too happy here to re-embrace their original sonic trademarks in service of more daring, pop-melodic hooks than they've collected in one place in decades. The Eno/Lanois produced "Love and Peace or Else" may shimmer with the duo's electro-production conceits, but it's Edge's lugubrious, postmodern John Lee Hooker guitar swagger that drives it. Elsewhere, Bono's trademark dramaturgy is spotlighted on "City of Blinding Lights," the unabashed romance of "A Man and a Woman," and the confessional "Sometimes You Can't Make It on Your Own." It may come wrapped in a conundrum—is it nostalgic retrenchment or a sum of the band's endless musical catharsis?—It—It's also the album where, Fly and MacPhisto be damned, U2 boldly claims its arena titan mantle with apologies to no one. —Jerry McCulley

Recommended U2 Discography

War

The Joshua Tree

Achtung Baby

All That You Can't Leave Behind

The Best of 1990-2000

The Best of 1980-1990

U2 Having nearly exhausted their capacity for pop-song politics on Warand The Unforgettable Fire, U2 turned toward themes of personal identity and complex relationships on The Joshua Tree. Not that the group was willing to come down off the barricades entirely: "Mothers of the Disappeared" and "Bullet the Blue Sky" turned a jaundiced eye toward Central America and the United States' role there. But the predominant mood here is one of self-discovery and the hunger for something more on tracks like the pulsating "Where the Streets Have No Name" and the gospel-ish "I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For." The album's masterstroke, however, is "With or Without You," a nasty love song dressed up as an ode of devotion and care. It ranks with the Police's "Every Breath You Take" as the most misread smash hit of the '80s. —Daniel Durchholz

U2 U2's second decade often seemed as preoccupied with the band's burgeoning superstardom—and how to confront/confound it—as it did with creating music. The band managed only four albums during the era (only half of its '80s output), projects whose gestations seemed perennially plagued by turmoil as much as mercurial creative instincts. But as this anthology chronicles, U2 ultimately managed a considerable feat: producing a memorable, lasting body of work in a decade where one of pop music's chief attributes was its disposability. The disc mixes hits like "Mysterious Ways" and "One" with seductive soundtrack cuts (the title track to Wim Wenders's Until the End of the World, Batman Forever's "Hold Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me, Kill Me"), new mixes of "Discotheque,""Staring at the Sun," and "Numb," and a pair of strong new tracks, the Orbit mix of "Electrical Storm" and "The Hands that Built America," the title track from Martin Scorsese's Gangs of New York. —Jerry McCulley

U2 An appreciable leap forward in almost every fashion from the group's first trio of albums, The Unforgettable Fireis its first with the production team of Brian Eno and Daniel Lanois. And while they take a strong hand in wrestling U2's music out of the mainstream and into a more individualistic area, it's the songs themselves that demand a more subtle approach. Moody gems such as "A Sort of