Album

Second LP from heavyweight hip hop producers' eccentric joint venture

After last year's disappointing Never Go Home, Brian Krumm's Illinois quartet seem to have rediscovered the last-gang-in-town swagger that made 2000's Damaged Goods such a riot. Guitars cranked up to 11, it's bulging roadhouse rock, with the added croak of Krumm's phlegmy Tom Waits-isms. But there's a leanness about these loser-through-a-shot-glass songs that suggests they've matured too, not least on the latter-day gunslinger ballad "November" and in the neon-splashed moodiness of "St Christopher Street".

Properly slack garage gear

Shane MacGowan's old running boyos in serious shindig

Frank Black Francis: the beginning and the end. One could treat these two dramatically different discs as bookends to Pixies history if the band hadn't just completed a triumphant reunion tour, while talk of a new album continues.

Double-disc expanded edition of his best '70s solo album

Hip record company attempts to thrust stardom upon unwilling recipient

51-track double-disc comp gathering together hits and rarities

Bristol drum'n'bass godfather goes hectic and eclectic

Sometime bartender, midwife and reverend, O'Connor's true calling may lie as a remarkable interpreter of song. Though recent years have found her adding dewy vocal harmonies for Andrew Bird's Bowl Of Fire (and Mavis Staples), her solo debut is long overdue. A brace of impressive originals—"My Backyard", "Tonight"—are whispers of classic honky-tonk, but she truly shines on covers of James (Squirrel Nut Zippers) Mathus' "Bottoms" and "Nightingale", twisting each into the kind of lovelorn ballad Alison Krauss would kill for.