Reviews

Two vintage Alastair Sim comedies released as a double-pack. In 1956's The Green Man he plays a political assassin whose plans are interrupted by the arrival of bumbling vacuum cleaner salesman George Cole; in 1960's School For Scoundrels—based on Stephen Potter's One-Upmanship books—he teaches downtrodden nice chap Ian Carmichael how to get the better of dastardly cad Terry-Thomas.

Startling third album by hardcore bass/drums duo from Rhode Island

Something of a cult, this. In 1972—that year again—the Brits made a dreadful zombie movie wherein frog-worshipping biker boys commit suicide, then return, undead, to burn up motorways and terrorise old ladies like Beryl Reid outside supermarkets. Fog, satanism and skull helmets, on a budget of around nine quid. The soundtrack, however, by Kes man John Cameron, has changed hands for daft money since, and now appears on CD. It mixes wah-wah rock, choral arias and phased backwards drums for no better reason than that Cameron felt like it.

Debut album from Brighton-based art-rock eccentrics

Glitchcore's hip elite remix Oakland's spiky robotniks

NYC rock'n'roll troupe Cat Mother had a semi-illustrious history. Formed by Stephen Stills' mate Roy Michaels (pre-Buffalo Springfield), Roy's boys packed an esoteric punch with their odd mix of old rocker standards and mandolin/violin/banjo workouts. Jimi Hendrix took a shine to them and semi-produced this disc at Electric Ladyland. They came up with a diverting set, but the Hendrix link is obviously the draw for this first-time CD reissue.

Long overdue retrospective of cult Aussie combo led by Tim Rogers

Miles caught live in transition in California

Engrossing parable of how the young Hitler's 'artistic' ideas went askew

OPENS 27 JUNE, CERT 12A, 111 MINS Put The Fast And The Furious on two wheels and you'll have this laughably po-faced tale of illegal street-racing among LA's biker fraternity. Derek Luke plays Kid, a young speed freak eager to dethrone "King of Cali" Smoke (Laurence Fishburne). To do so, he must set up his own club (the titular Biker Boyz), working his way up the racing hierarchy while keeping true to his late dad's mantra that you should "burn rubber, not your soul". Despite Reggie Rock Bythewood's flashy direction, this dopey yarn is more Vespa than Kawasaki.