Tindersticks' first studio album since 1997's Curtains has one flaw: it's too short. Just when you're getting nicely unsettled into the slightly tortured beauty of the Nottingham band's music, the final refrain fades into the night, and you're left feeling bereft, with nothing to do but experience the sweet torment all over again. To the casual listener, songs such as Can We Start Again?, If You're Looking For A Way Out and Before You Close Your Eyes might sound no different from the band's usual morose musings, but to the aficionado this is vibrant, vintage Tindersticks, with a finely-tuned pathos on the palate and a beautifully-bitter aftertaste. Mixing elements of 1960s cinema francaise, 1930s cabaret and a timeless sense of passion and grace, Tindersticks' latest medium-length opus offers simple, exquisite pleasure.
Kevin Courtney
Buddy Holly: The Very Best of Buddy Holly (Universal)
The most cynical response to this collection is "more money for Paul McCartney", because he owns the publishing rights to Buddy Holly's music. The true, pop-music-loving-fan's response is "maybe - but without Buddy Holly and The Crickets, McCartney's original group, the Beatles, might have sounded a hell of a lot different". Hell, they even got their name from the Crickets! And here, in one astounding 36-track single-disc collection are not only all the hits but the seminal album tracks, ranging from Rave On through Brown Eyed Handsome Man to the far less well known Midnight Shift. If you own no other Buddy Holly album, this is the one you need.
Joe Jackson
Ocean Colour Scene: One From The Modern (Island)
Just when we'd finally learnt to hate Ocean Colour Scene, they worm their way back into our favour with the catchy anthem, Profit In Peace. The rehabilitation began when Hundred Mile High City graced the opening credits of last year's excellent Lock, Stock & Two Smoking Barrels movie, and now the Brummie hippies are set to soundtrack another season of TFI Friday. However, while Profit In Peace may well be an update of Give Peace A Chance, the rest of the album floats down the same old anachronistic stream. July has the bark of Hey Bulldog, but none of its bite, while Emily Chambers strikes some Floydian poses, but sounds more like The Strawbs at a funeral, and Soul Driver could be Lenny Kravitz driving the hearse. Might I suggest that OCS take the odd trip outside their Moseley Shoals hideaway, and take stock of how the world has changed?
Kevin Courtney
