Reviews

David Gedge tunes his guitar. David Gedge drives to the garage. David Gedge buys a Ginster's sausage roll. That's about the sum of this inadvisable fly-on-the-wall tour documentary following Cinerama, Gedge's post-Wedding Present cinematic grunge-pop ensemble. A shame, since they're a good band with great songs (only last year they got a No 1 in John Peel's Festive 50), but as a visual accompaniment this is utterly depressing.

This 27-year-old neuroscience major and former school teacher will no doubt elicit comparisons with fellow Canadian Kathleen Edwards, not least due to the sharing of producer Dave Draves and guitarist/mentor Jim Bryson. But Maki is softer and sweeter, with a faint copper tang. There's something disarming about her gently fluttering country-folk delivery, more akin to Sarah Harmer or Shelly (Blue Ridge Reveille) Campbell.

Impressive reunion for post-punkers

Sonic visionary's first four vocal solo albums; no extras, just untrammelled invention

Long-lost session tracks retrieved from BBC transcription discs and cleaned-up AM radio broadcasts

All singing, all dancing Spanish sex comedy

Like the preppy cousin of City Of God, this handsome crime flick from JoséHenrique Fonseca is set in Rio De Janeiro, but in the suburbs, where good-looking gringos kill out of curiosity rather than necessity. Unfortunately, it's also a world of paper-thin characters prone to morbid musings, and shot through with a non-descript pop-promo aesthetic.

Dazzlingly confident '96 debut from The Royal Tenenbaums' Wes Anderson which follows the misadventures of an eccentric gang of wannabe Texan mobsters. It immediately established the Anderson template: deadpan delivery, solid colours, Owen and Luke Wilson, strong musical soundtrack, immaculately cluttered production design, leisurely pace, iconic costumes, and an eerie sense of timelessness.

Gary Oldman's brutal portrayal of working-class south London life still packs a punch

The cocks may no longer be in socks but the Peppers remain hyperactive kings of white-boy funk, smack survivors turned mainstream mavericks. Their blend of infantile exuberance and brooding disdain shines in these videos. There's a Busby Berkeley routine for sleazeballs ("Aeroplane"), the definitive punk-junk ballad ("Under The Bridge") and the blood-drenched "Scar Tissue". MTV regulars don't come any more cavalier, or charismatic.