A close-to-classic 'intimate' set, filmed in the mid-'90s at London's Jacob St Studios. Chrissie Hynde and trusted band, assisted by a string quartet, loll luxuriously through such sultry charmers as "Kid","Private Life" and "Lovers Of Today", while Damon Albarn trots on as guest star to tinkle the ivories. There's also a stab at Radiohead's "Creep", with Hynde in sublime voice. A rock icon who's also one of the great white soul singers.
In tandem with her recent, more rock-oriented collaborative albums (corralling everyone from Damon Albarn and Jarvis Cocker to Billy Corgan), Faithfull has pursued her other career as a torch singer, the regal ruin of her pristine '60s folk voice now the perfect expression of seen-it-all wisdom/ennui. In the company of pianist Paul Trueblood and at the end of a world tour (recorded at the International Jazz Festival in '97), she's bawdy, wry and always wrenchingly expressive: in short, quite the best exponent of this sort of thing.
In most cultures, seven is a magic number. Not in rock'n'roll, where to sustain any degree of originality beyond album three or four is about as rare as a sober Shane MacGowan.
Forget CDs, this is how Damon Albarn and Jamie Hewlett's bloodless multimedia project was always meant to be experienced: as a fancy interactive DVD stuffed with videos, storyboards, short animations, a documentary and plenty of hidden gimmicks that only resourceful 11-year-olds can locate. Extensive foraging suggests, however, that Albarn's soul is still nowhere to be found.
