The abnormal has become the norm for Tom Waits, so, once again, Bone Machine is laden with odd timbres, archaic acoustics, and raw vocals. This time, however, Waits has built his songs around a Harry Partch-inspired fascination with primitive percussion. With a crew of Northern California musicians along to add spare adornments, Waits fashions pretty, sentimental tunes ("A Little Rain", Whistle Down the Wind") and hellish stampedes of clanging metal and hoarse shouting ("Earth Died Screaming", "Let Me Get Up on It", the latter the 53-second distillation of Bone Machine quintessence-just Waits distorted bellowing and banging. Bone Machine is both appalling and appealing. There are elements to this album that seem designed to drive away the faint of heart, and then there are melodies that melt in your hand. -Steve Stolder.

Like the best guitar heroes, Ben Folds, pianist and leader of a guitar-less trio called the Ben Folds Five, commands and fuels his small, tightly wound ensemble with an authoritative, nearly virtuosic style. Folds, based in Chapel Hill, North Carolina, borrows from everywhere but lends new inspiration and insight to the instrument's possibilities-he's the Jimi Hendrix of the baby grand. His frenetic key-pounding eclipses old-time styles from honky-tonk to Jerry Lee Lewis rag, and he out-plinks megastars such as Elton John and Billy Joel while sifting them both through the mondo hammerings of classic pop-loving alternative keyboard bashers like Todd Rundgren and Squeeze's Jools Holland. To complement Folds-the-pianist's clean and bright ivory tinkerings, Folds-the-singer's clear and dynamic tenor swirls through Folds-the-songwriter's very capably crafted, sugary pop gems. "Philosophy" starts with a rolling Joel-like intro, slips into a Rundgrenish verse and chorus-complete with the perfect Beatlesque harmonies of bassist Robert Sledge and drummer Darren Jessee-and then breaks out in an overdriven piano quote from Gershwin in the climactic solo. "Underground" Sgt. Peppers us with faux theatrics and then plunges into a soul-gospel groove about the joys of the alternative rock scene. "Uncle Walter" is a character sketch Ray Davies wishes he wrote but couldn't; "Boxing" is an imagined confab between Muhammad Ali and Howard Cosell that Tom Waits wishes he wrote but wouldn't. The rest of Ben Folds Five's debut achievement just does what any other timeless summer record should: it makes you feel sunny enough inside to last all through the year. -Roni Sarig.

Garage-rock? The Yeah Yeah Yeahs' second album demonstrates that if this New York art-school trio were ever anything to do with the stripped-down, lo-fidelity rock ethic, it was strictly by coincidence. Rather, Show Your Bones marks this band out as true 21st Century new-wavers, their sound filled out with gleaming layers of guitar and a dynamic that bucks and coils with devious ambition under vocalist Karen O's gasped, orgasmic yowl. True, like Fever To Tell, Shake Your Bones opens with a snarl and an surfeit of fiery rock-out gumption-see single "The Golden Mile" and "Phenomena", Karen chanting "Something like a phenomenon/You're something like a phenomenon" over crunchy, distorted stomp. But gradually, the album softens to yield emotional secrets. "Cheating Hearts" commences with a triumphant Nick Zinner fanfare apparently cribbed straight from the Sex Pistols' "Pretty Vacant", but blossoms out into a passionate love song that flits between swooning poignancy and elatory triumph, while the hushed "Warrior" belies Karen and Nick's genesis as a singer-songwriter duo-at least until it rears into life like a rattlesnake, Karen letting loose gleeful kung-fu chops atop slices of choppy guitar. A second album that, far from feeling difficult, comes across as almost effortless in its excellence. -Louis Pattison.

Like the best guitar heroes, Ben Folds, pianist and leader of a guitar-less trio called the Ben Folds Five, commands and fuels his small, tightly wound ensemble with an authoritative, nearly virtuosic style. Folds, based in Chapel Hill, North Carolina, borrows from everywhere but lends new inspiration and insight to the instrument's possibilities-he's the Jimi Hendrix of the baby grand. His frenetic key-pounding eclipses old-time styles from honky-tonk to Jerry Lee Lewis rag, and he out-plinks megastars such as Elton John and Billy Joel while sifting them both through the mondo hammerings of classic pop-loving alternative keyboard bashers like Todd Rundgren and Squeeze's Jools Holland. To complement Folds-the-pianist's clean and bright ivory tinkerings, Folds-the-singer's clear and dynamic tenor swirls through Folds-the-songwriter's very capably crafted, sugary pop gems. "Philosophy" starts with a rolling Joel-like intro, slips into a Rundgrenish verse and chorus-complete with the perfect Beatlesque harmonies of bassist Robert Sledge and drummer Darren Jessee-and then breaks out in an overdriven piano quote from Gershwin in the climactic solo. "Underground" Sgt. Peppers us with faux theatrics and then plunges into a soul-gospel groove about the joys of the alternative rock scene. "Uncle Walter" is a character sketch Ray Davies wishes he wrote but couldn't; "Boxing" is an imagined confab between Muhammad Ali and Howard Cosell that Tom Waits wishes he wrote but wouldn't. The rest of Ben Folds Five's debut achievement just does what any other timeless summer record should: it makes you feel sunny enough inside to last all through the year. -Roni Sarig.

A mesmerising and at times ferocious album, reportedly much-admired by Beck and Sonic Youth's Thurston Moore. Coming hard on the heels of their eponymous debut-which found them a little too much under the spell of Led Zeppelin-this was the first work to approximate, in sonic terms, the group's loftier ambitions: the group and producer Roy Thomas Baker painstakingly multi-tracking vocals and guitar tracks, so as to achieve an appropriately orchestral richness of sound. The subsequent album, Sheer Heart Attack, would see them borrow from Noel Coward and the English music hall, but the sources here are more self-consciously literary; and while the result can occasionally seem too precious by half-lyrically, tracks like "The Fairy Feller's Masterstroke" and "Ogre Battle" (both Freddie Mercury compositions) betray the influence of too much Tolkien and Richard Dadd-in terms of musicianship, arrangements and melodic invention, this constitutes a staggering achievement. -Andrew McGuire.

"I'm talkin' 'bout things I know," Mary J. Blige wails on "Work That," the second single and opening track of Growing Pains. The album squeaked into 2007 too late to make best-of lists but otherwise would have stormed its way up several, for sure. She needn't have hit us with such a pronouncement: In 16 songs that ring as remarkably, unflinchingly true as those on 2005's landmark The Breakthrough, the queen of hip-hop soul keeps "keeping it real" a specialty. There's no sense in trying to assign credit for the skin-tight grooves and funked-up retro vibe here; with nine producers padding Blige's emotion-rich voice and the lyrics she so obviously lives by, what we're left with is a melange of sounds. But it's a measure of an artist who has mastered her own identity and left nothing to chance that this, her eighth studio album, comes off so free of wild cards and loose edges. "You ask what love feels like," she sings on "What Love Is," one of the disc's less fierce tracks. "It feels like joy, and it feels like pain, and it feels like sunshine, and it feels like rain," she continues, answering the question. The album feels the same way, a passel of complex feelings all wrapped up in love. No one knows struggle, heartache, and triumph over mediocrity like Blige. [+]

Alongside Ghost, another romantic comedy drama, Pretty Woman dominated the box office of 1990. The movie revitalised Richard Gere's career, and made a superstar of Julia Roberts, launching her on a string of hugely successful romantic comedies including My Best Friend's Wedding (1997), Notting Hill (1999), and, reuniting her with Gere and Pretty Woman director, Garry Marshall, The Runaway Bride (1999). Inevitably the movie's theme song is Roy Orbison's "Oh Pretty Woman", sounding fresh as ever. And if that is a typically male view of feminine attractions, Natalie Cole tells the other side of the story with the unrepentant "Wild Women Do". David Bowie provides an update of one of his greatest hits, with "Fame 90" and Robert Palmer describes "Life In Detail". The remainder of the album is a snapshot of up-and-coming acts at the beginning of the 90s, with Go West's massive hit, "King Of Wishful Thinking" and Roxette's chart smash "It Must Have Been Love" setting the agenda for slick, well produced power-pop. As nostalgia for the time just before dance took over the charts, or simply as a highly polished souvenir of one of the most popular movies ever made, Pretty Woman requires, as Peter Cetera appropriately adds, "No Explanation". -Gary S. Dalkin.

Henley-arguably the most talented member of the Eagles-had toyed with playful pop hooks on his I Can't Stand Still solo bow in 1982. Two years later he got down to business on this brainy, politics-themed sophomore disc, which indicted his native Hollywood as venomously as "Hotel California" once did. Surfaces were still somewhat glossy-there's no denying the foot-tapping elan of "Boys of Summer or "All She Wants to Do Is Dance". But the vitriol rolling just beneath those surfaces was deep, intellectual stuff. Henley, as he continued to prove with the more eloquent The End of the Innocence a few years later, is someone his fans can neither underestimate nor predict. Can we say the same of Glenn Frey or Randy Meisner? -Tom Lanham.

Hayley Westenra's first two albums - Odyssey and Pure - blended classical arias, traditional Irish and Maori folk songs with great success. This third album, while covering similar ground in terms of musical styles, is slightly different. Recorded in Dublin, it thematically celebrates Westenra's family roots - namely her grandparent's journey across the world from Ireland to New Zealand in the 1880s - featuring not only cover versions, but also several of her own compositions. The bad news is that the choice of covers on Treasure is not startlingly original. Songs like "Danny Boy," "Scarborough Fair", and "Shenandoah," have been sung by a thousand voices, and though Westenra's versions aren't without merit, they hardly break new ground. More interesting are Westenra's own compositions, such as "Summer Fly," a Norah Jones-esque slice of countrified folk that breaks up the smoothness of Treasure beautifully, and "Whispering Hope," a jaw-droppingly gorgeous hymn recorded a capella alongside a choir. A mixed bag of songs it is, but Westenra's enormously enchanting voice ensures it a place in any collection. -Danny McKenna.

"I'm talkin' 'bout things I know," Mary J. Blige wails on "Work That," the second single and opening track of Growing Pains. The album squeaked into 2007 too late to make best-of lists but otherwise would have stormed its way up several, for sure. She needn't have hit us with such a pronouncement: In 16 songs that ring as remarkably, unflinchingly true as those on 2005's landmark The Breakthrough, the queen of hip-hop soul keeps "keeping it real" a specialty. There's no sense in trying to assign credit for the skin-tight grooves and funked-up retro vibe here; with nine producers padding Blige's emotion-rich voice and the lyrics she so obviously lives by, what we're left with is a melange of sounds. But it's a measure of an artist who has mastered her own identity and left nothing to chance that this, her eighth studio album, comes off so free of wild cards and loose edges. "You ask what love feels like," she sings on "What Love Is," one of the disc's less fierce tracks. "It feels like joy, and it feels like pain, and it feels like sunshine, and it feels like rain," she continues, answering the question. The album feels the same way, a passel of complex feelings all wrapped up in love. No one knows struggle, heartache, and triumph over mediocrity like Blige. [+]

A mesmerising and at times ferocious album, reportedly much-admired by Beck and Sonic Youth's Thurston Moore. Coming hard on the heels of their eponymous debut-which found them a little too much under the spell of Led Zeppelin-this was the first work to approximate, in sonic terms, the group's loftier ambitions: the group and producer Roy Thomas Baker painstakingly multi-tracking vocals and guitar tracks, so as to achieve an appropriately orchestral richness of sound. The subsequent album, Sheer Heart Attack, would see them borrow from Noel Coward and the English music hall, but the sources here are more self-consciously literary; and while the result can occasionally seem too precious by half-lyrically, tracks like "The Fairy Feller's Masterstroke" and "Ogre Battle" (both Freddie Mercury compositions) betray the influence of too much Tolkien and Richard Dadd-in terms of musicianship, arrangements and melodic invention, this constitutes a staggering achievement. -Andrew McGuire.