Album

As solo outlet for Carl Johns—leader of Wisconsin countryites NoahJohn—Charlemagne allows him the freedom to break the slow-shuffle shackles and explore pop. The headlong skip of "Dawn Upon" is typical, its happy quick-step framing a tale of a man tormented by moonlit visions of a lost love.

Cole Porter's lyrical and melodic genius is likely to endure as one of the last century's immortal contributions to culture. Lennon/McCartney, Holland/Dozier/Holland and possibly Bacharach/David may last as long; others currently revered will be forgotten in 50 years. So it's dandy that they're making a biopic about him, and fine that "an extraordinary range of contemporary artists" are performing his music for it. Trouble is, these artists are neither extraordinary nor a range. Consider what could have been risked here.

Enjoyable blues/R&B romps courtesy of ex-Stones bass player

New York's prolific eccentric vents anti-Bush spleen

Yes, on tuesday, June 13, 1978, voodoo rockabilly avatars The Cramps (in their greatest line-up, Lux Interior and Poison Ivy backed by Nick Knox and Byron Gregory) rolled into the recreation room of California's Napa State Mental Hospital, to play for the residents. Don't ask how this was ever allowed.

Explosive albums from turbulent jazz bassist impeccably demonstrate his raucous, propulsive take on jazz history

Given his gutbucket-of-blues voice, it's a surprise to find the ex-Uncle Tupelo/Son Volt man's first live album arriving 15 years into his career. Backed by Washington DC's Canyon, this is Farrar's 2003 US tour: the sound crisp, tight and fluid. Alongside thrusting newies "Doesn't Have To Be This Way" and "6 String Belief" are covers of Floyd's "Lucifer Sam" (an early Tupelo staple) and Neil Young's "Like A Hurricane". His solo material is typified by the thudding "Damn Shame".

What's not to love about a score that fills nearly half its running time with diverse versions of Rodgers and Hart's "My Funny Valentine"? Elvis Costello, Chet Baker (sublime), The Kronos Quartet and pianist Marvin Laird all saunter down its plush chandeliered corridors, its tree-lined boulevards, its narcoleptic nooks and crannies. No less a figure than Van Dyke Parks fills up the residual squares and piazzas, and there's even a waft of Julee Cruise (and a shiver of Saint-Saens and Bach) to gratify those desiring even loftier highs.

Third album from New York's Kansas raised tunesmith

First compact disc release for Cave's 1983 Berlin collaboration, plus Die Haut DVD