Reviews

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.

The pick of two near-simultaneous EP releases from the 22-year-old Swede, the four-track Maple Leaves is little short of astounding. While its counterpart, the Rocky Dennis EP, is all soft light and strings, this one swings moods with abandon. A droll miserablist of Smiths vintage, Lekman intones like a baroque Stephin Merritt on the Left Banke-filching "Black Cab": "Oh no Goddamn/I missed the last tram/I killed the party again/Goddamn Goddamn".