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An object lesson in filming a gig, this, as Patrick Daughters (director of the Yeah Yeah Yeahs' stunning "Maps" promo) captures The Rapture's nervous energies in long, unfussy, elegant shots. Recorded last Christmas, the quartet still resemble—happily—enthusiastic grad students who've stumbled on the ideal disco/punk hybrid. But Daughters exploits this, making them—especially soulful-eyed frontman Luke Jenner—look at once gawky and iconic.

Two full German performances from 1976 and 1977, with the master craftsman showing how it's done on acoustic, slide and electric guitars. Caught in his prime, we see him play early favourites—"Pistol Slapper Blues" "Banker's Blues" and "Messin' With The Kid"—alongside later fare usually found on his compilations. And the rock'n'roll jam with a woozy Frankie Miller is deliciously informal.

Filmed on his final 1976 tour, before he became Yusuf Islam and rejected music, Majikat finds the artist formerly known as Cat enhancing the simplicity of songs such as "Moonshadow" and "Father & Son" with a show featuring live magicians and a stage set of Floyd-style grandeur. Less precious than on record, he proves to be a surprisingly engaging performer.

It's New Year's Eve 2003, and Josh Rouse is wowing a hometown Nashville crowd with an Isley-tastic version of "Under Cold Blue Stars" that virtually melts into Stevie Wonder's "My Cherie Amour". An excellent concert DVD in its own right, this gets five stars for the added Many Moods Of... documentary in which we see the BBC's Janice Long being visibly moved to tears. Watch and weep with her.

An exuberant two-disc anniversary set includes all the videos—the sugar-buzz of "Alright", "Late In The Day"'s pogoing in the rain, the inspired foam-puppetry of "Pumping On Your Stereo" et al. There's also home movies, unseen material, TV appearances and fresh interviews with the lads, who emerge as that rarest of musical beasts: mates first, a band second.

It's not an exhilarating concert. Even "The Boys Are Back In Town", "Jailbreak", "Waiting For An Alibi" and "Don't Believe A Word" lack lustre, as do Phil Lynott's eyes and the dynamics of the band. The audience is polite, excepting the odd permed headbanger. Uninspiring.

As a prelude to tonight's particularly goosefleshy rendition of "Not Even Stevie Nicks...", Calexico frontman Joey Burns gets to tell his Glen Campbell story. "Scottsdale, Arizona, is a very strange place," he begins. "We have friends who've been to his house there. As you enter the driveway, electric bells start playing 'Rhinestone Cowboy', then barking dogs drown out the chorus." Burns stops fingering the chords of the buckskin balladeer's biggest hit and pauses, senses a certain bafflement in the audience.

The Pixies and The Cure turn up the desert heat at the fifth Coachella Festival

His Runtness tours the States and once again surprises and confounds

A companion piece to last year's sensual reimagining of Willie Nelson's Red Headed Stranger, Bozulich's latest offers two tasters from there ("Blue Eyes Crying In The Rain"; "Can I Sleep In Your Arms?", with Nelson duetting) alongside the outré experimentalism of her live work. The ex-Geraldine Fibber revisits both 1997's "Arrow To My Drunken Eye" and the epic "Outside Of Town", sharding them with amplified strings, dissonant guitar and a voice like velvet studded with razor blades.