Reviews

Fifth solo outing for fiftysomething Nashville maestro MILLER'S MORE ILLUSTRIOUS work as guitarist/musical director with Emmylou Harris and Steve Earle has sometimes put his solo output in the shade. A pity, because there's much to discover in the Ohio native's back pages. Earle swears he's "the best country singer working today", while Robbie Fulks calls him country's only living auteur.

Versatile jazz guitarist's sample-based outing, produced by the eclectic Hal Willner

At a time when much British alternative rock is hobbled by the demands of 'authenticity', Brighton's Eighties Matchbox B-Line Disaster strike a rowdy, triumphantly rulebook-flouting note. Clearly, they have their heroes—The Cramps, Dead Kennedys, Melvins and Kyuss among them—but the band's wide-ranging vision suggests they couldn't churn out copies of the music they love even if they tried. The Royal Society explores themes of mental derailment and the black arts against a backdrop of the heaviest psychobilly, grunge-metal and stoner rock.

Folktronic delight from Kansas-born Londoner

Notorious, long-delayed Korean shocker

Damning documentary on American fast-food overkill cuts to the bone

The old warhorse's socio-political eco-musical in miniature

Alejandro González Iñárritu's follow-up to Amores Perros is an agonisingly bleak film about death and the apparent pointlessness of things, with a dying Sean Penn getting involved with distraught widow Naomi Watts and Benicio Del Toro's sweaty born-again ex-con. Highly charged, intensely acted but eventually somewhat predictable.

Definitive overview of the massively influential Detroit five-piece

McGhie's solo debut is one of those funk records whose price (circa $600) and legend climbs in inverse proportion to the number of people who've actually heard it. Mercifully, it proves to be worth at least some of the fuss. A Studio One veteran who emigrated to Toronto in 1967, McGhie mostly abandoned reggae (save the fabulously amiable "Cool It") in favour of a grab-bag of funk and soul styles. The Sounds Of Joy have an easy grace, and McGhie makes a decent fist of "By The Time I Get To Phoenix". Militant crate diggers, though, will be weeping over the over-priced vinyl.