Their 13th studio album is a stunning rebirth from one of Britain's most popular and enduring bands

Filmed on his final 1976 tour, before he became Yusuf Islam and rejected music, Majikat finds the artist formerly known as Cat enhancing the simplicity of songs such as "Moonshadow" and "Father & Son" with a show featuring live magicians and a stage set of Floyd-style grandeur. Less precious than on record, he proves to be a surprisingly engaging performer.

Two full German performances from 1976 and 1977, with the master craftsman showing how it's done on acoustic, slide and electric guitars. Caught in his prime, we see him play early favourites—"Pistol Slapper Blues" "Banker's Blues" and "Messin' With The Kid"—alongside later fare usually found on his compilations. And the rock'n'roll jam with a woozy Frankie Miller is deliciously informal.

An object lesson in filming a gig, this, as Patrick Daughters (director of the Yeah Yeah Yeahs' stunning "Maps" promo) captures The Rapture's nervous energies in long, unfussy, elegant shots. Recorded last Christmas, the quartet still resemble—happily—enthusiastic grad students who've stumbled on the ideal disco/punk hybrid. But Daughters exploits this, making them—especially soulful-eyed frontman Luke Jenner—look at once gawky and iconic.

A potentially tasteless cash-in (given that the makers can't even get the date of his death right on the back jacket), surprisingly this turns out to be an immensely watchable documentary detailing Elvis' tragic demise. The usual suspects from the "Memphis Mafia" line up to share tearjerking anecdotes about junk food and drugs ("he jurst ferkin' lurved 'em!"). Morbidly fascinating.

No matter how much his music is over-used on crap TV travel shows, there's no denying that DJ Shadow is hip hop's premier auteur. His trademark (pyro)technics signature is all over this live performance from Brixton Academy, June 2002. Performance in this context means a silhouetted, hooded man mixing up a subtle sonic brew in front of some spiffy visuals for 50 minutes, but the crowd lap it up.

Now 77, Jimmy Martin has been a bluegrass legend since he became lead singer and guitarist in Bill Monroe's band in 1949 and helped pioneer that "High Lonesome Sound" (see This Month In Americana, p98). His story is told through archive and contemporary footage, and Martin proves to be a highly engaging raconteur, although you might wish for a little more music and fewer talking heads.

The original grunge-pop heroes' '88 tour footage plus essential documentaries

Tragicomic genius and founding father of black American humour filmed at his peak

Magnificent, melancholic moodpiece concerning two lost souls in Tokyo