Uncut

Follow-up to 2001's excellent Just Backward Of Square

Album number nine from Dean and Gene Ween, who know no stylistic bounds

More heaving dollops of maximum rock'n'soul from Riverside, California

Born in Miami but weaned on the mid-'60's coffee house scene around Boston, Smither remains a strangely undiscovered talent. The 11th album of his 33-year recording career is a masterclass in deftly-picked country blues guitar, drawing on Lightnin' Hopkins and Mississippi John Hurt (a sunny-side-up cover of "Candy Man") alongside the more lugubrious Fred Neil. Smither's weathered old pipes are a joy as he tramples over melting chords like a bear with a migraine.

The alter-ego of Jon DeRosa (whose day job is with electro outfit Aarktica), Pale Horse And Rider first surfaced as a steel-stringed side project on last year's Alcohol/EPs. For his first LP, Brooklyn-based DeRosa opted for the cloistered acoustics of Duluth, Minnesota's Sacred Heart Church, with Low's Alan Sparhawk recording. At times minimal to the point of disappearing, this is a spare exercise in frayed-at-the-seam country, spooked by banjo, harmonium and piano notes that hang in the air.

Celebrating the '80s electro-dance era, at least as it was perceived in New York clubs, this mixes period pounders with updated readings from contemporary exponents. Electroclash may not have taken off on cue, but there's a trickle-down situation now. You'll both laugh at and bounce about to Miss Kittin & The Hacker's irreverent "Frank Sinatra", Ladytron's comic "Seventeen" and Felix Da Housecat's "Money, Success, Fame, Glamour".

There'll be more than enough excruciating hype winging your way for this, but we'll just focus on the positive. Whatever your feelings on Tarantino's films, their use of music is usually inspired. Kill Bill has Nancy Sinatra singing the old Cher hit "Bang Bang", blasts of Bernard Herrmann and Quincy Jones, Isaac Hayes' "Run Fay Run", much new material from Wu-Tang's RZA, and tantalising, foul-mouthed dialogue excerpts from the likes of Uma Thurman and Lucy Liu.

Not a film many people outside the Jackie Chan Completists Society will be urging you to see, but a nifty set of British '60s sounds, avoiding the usual chestnuts and instead dredging up memories you never knew you had, like "Winchester Cathedral" by The New Vaudeville Band, possibly the oddest pop song ever conceived. Although it's given a run for its pottiness by Roger Miller's "England Swings".

The most exciting US boy/girl duo since The White Stripes

Back in 1999, Richard Thompson was asked to name his 10 greatest tunes of the millennium. He took the request at face value and came up with a list that started with "Sumer Is Icumen In" from the 11th century and carried on through to Jerry Lee Lewis. From there came the idea of expanding the list to a couple of dozen songs and recording them live in concert.