Reviews

Directed by the hugely uncompromising Robert Aldrich, this ferocious post-Wild Bunch western stars Burt Lancaster as a world-weary army scout at odds with callow cavalry officer Bruce Davison on a mission to hunt down the errant Apache chief Ulzana, who with a small band of warriors has broken out of the reservation and are now looting, killing and raping their way across the bleak southwestern territories. Much tampered with by the studio on its original 1972 release and the subject of heated debate about its depiction of the Apaches, the film is in fact both complex and intelligent in its

Originally released in 1968 as Naked Under Leather, this infamous Marianne Faithfull fantasy is more legendary than it is actually any good. A bored small-town wife speeds off on her Harley Davidson to romp around with the Alain Delon of her imagination. An amusing piece of kitsch, bizarrely helmed by iconic cameraman Jack Cardiff. Had they spiked his tea?

Playful Northern fops take a great leap forward from 2002's A Word In Your Ear

David Byrne is best known for his work with Talking Heads, Eno, a smash hit last year with X-Press 2, and his label, Luaka Bop. It's less well-known that he co-wrote the score for The Last Emperor (despite the fact it won him an Oscar) and has worked with theatre experimentalist Robert Wilson.

Early recordings of recent Grammy-winner

Born in Miami but weaned on the mid-'60's coffee house scene around Boston, Smither remains a strangely undiscovered talent. The 11th album of his 33-year recording career is a masterclass in deftly-picked country blues guitar, drawing on Lightnin' Hopkins and Mississippi John Hurt (a sunny-side-up cover of "Candy Man") alongside the more lugubrious Fred Neil. Smither's weathered old pipes are a joy as he tramples over melting chords like a bear with a migraine.

It's been a long crawl back to credibility for prog titans Yes, but things seem to be shifting in their favour of late. There's a new wave of young bands emerging, unafraid to wear their prog influences on their sleeves (The Mars Volta, Cave In, Beecher) and the old sods themselves are attracting 'celebrity' plaudits (The Flaming Lips, PiL's Keith Levene, Vincent Gallo). This is as it should be—contrary to post-punk dogma, Yes were never a joyless listen.

Best-of for Liverpool post-punks

Clint's back at his directorial best with a lean, mean adaptation of Dennis Lehane's gripping crime novel

Finnish director Aki Kaurismäki's maverick reputation is built on a series of inspired, lugubrious comic gems, but this latest film—about a coma victim who wakes up with no memory of his past life—suggests he's in need of a new direction. The film looks terrific, but the gags are mannered and the story twee. Not so much deadpan as dead dull, it's a film about an amnesiac that's appropriately forgettable.