People tend to confuse the band Mazzy Star with it's singer Hope Sandoval. Truth be told, they've been right all along. Sandoval's languid, weeping willow voice is Mazzy Star; the name is a mere formality. With nods to Nico and the Velvet Underground, So Tonight that I Might See is vintage Mazzy. Remarkably, the recording produced a strikingly undanceable single, "Fade into You". The rest of the album sticks close to the single's plaintive, retro balladry. Though Sandoval rarely raises her voice above a sultry whisper, it's bright enough to hold your attention all night. -Nick Heil.

Stereophonics' first official live recording captures them out on the road in the USA-specifically, Dakota, the inspiration for their 2005 UK No. 1 single-knocking out the Everyman anthems that, if the ecstatic crowd reaction here is to be believed, stretches far beyond their genesis in the sleepy Welsh valleys. Stretched over two CDs, Live From Dakota cuts through every strata of Stereophonic' career, from recent album moments like "Superman" and "Doorman"-played here as a bristly one-two opening salvo-to forgotten gems like "Carrot Cake And Wine", a B-side dating all the way back to Word Gets Around. The sound is crisp, belying little of the cavernous arena it's captured in, and crowd noise is generally unobtrusive, aside from when Kelly Jones vacates the microphone towards the close of "Traffic", the audience chorusing the words back with perceptible American twang. Inevitably, affairs end with a breezy run through "Dakota", capping a live set that should satisfy fans and work as a good entry to newcomers before that inevitable Greatest Hits materialises. -Louis Pattison.

It's one thing to be celebrated, and it's quite another to become inescapably iconic. Hard-Fi stumbled into the latter with their debut Stars of CCTV, reflecting on life in satellite town UK with stark iconography, articulately pitched lyrics and accessibility sprinkled with the credibility of The Clash's rebel poise-a rare achievement, perhaps only equalled by Arctic Monkeys' and The Streets' snap-shots of teenage life. An icon is not infallible however, and it looked like Hard-Fi's commuter train to realism-central might have been derailed in the run up to this album's release. Their cocky, misguided decision to declare the death of the album cover simply by printing the words "NO COVER ART" on theirs was a bad joke at best. And while the diagnosis for the album itself may not be quite so bad-the buoyant swagger of "Suburban Knights" opens things up without breaking stride-Once Upon a Time in the West does lack the thematic weight of their debut. Musically it is more mature; there are strings everywhere, the ska influence remains but the bright-light club ambience of old is largely smoothed over. "Television" bags a chorus worthy of expectation, blokey-gospel to the extreme, but throws around so much pre-school sloganeering against culture and politics that its effect is dimmed. "We Need Love" is less preachy and works better. "Can't Get Along (Without You)" is a dumb Motown-esque love song, doesn't suit their posture at all, but is just the kind of bubblegum they might have to rely on if their socio-realism has gone flat. -James Berry.

Singles 1986-1998 is a worthwhile purchase for casual admirers and completists alike. The two-disc set contains revamped versions of the major singles from 1986 to 1998 and a version of "Little 15" that was first released only in France. The set's "grand finale" is the live recording of "Everything Counts", from the 101 album. Although the original studio version of the "Everything Counts" single appeared on 1984's People Are People, DM fudged the chronology to justify including this astounding live recording on the album. The live recording highlights the worshipful crowd applauding, cheering, and chant-singing "The grabbing hands / Grab all they can / Everything counts in large amounts" long after the song has ended. -Beth Bessmer.

Three decades after decisively trading fame and his superstar moniker for the spiritual devotion for which his restless '70s songs seemed a perpetual quest, the singer-songwriter born Steven Demetre Georgiou has successfully resurrected Cat Stevens's muse, if not his persona. The musician whose dedicated embrace of Islam embroiled him in controversy frequently sings its praises on An Other Cup, both boldly (the Prophet-lionizing "The Beloved") and with delicate reflection ("Whispers from a Spiritual Garden" reworks Sufi mystic Jalaluddin Rumi). Given the political and religious misconceptions that have often plagued him, he's mused for years that his theme song should be Nina Simone's "Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood"; here Yusuf makes good on the promise, conjuring a cover steeped in brooding elegance with the assistance of Madonna/Dido/Rod Stewart producer Rick Nowells. Yet, as "Heaven/Where True Love Goes" attests, the musician remains as masterfully adept at blurring distinctions between spiritual and romantic ecstasies as he is at evoking his trademark idealism in the lilting harmonies of "Maybe There's a World. " Fans of his vintage catalog will find intriguing riches outside the more spiritually focused works here, too, with the familiar idealism of the previously unrecorded 1968 song "Green Fields, Golden Sands" and the muscular "I Think I See the Light" further evoking the glories of Cat past. The production leans towards the spare and shrewdly contemporary, whether casting the effusive opener "Midday" in Paul Simon's spirit of cross-cultural adventure, underscoring the melodic charms of "One Day at a Time," or suffusing "When Butterflies Leave" and his autobiographical cover of Simone with graceful, neo-classical strings. Considering the career time lapse, it's a remarkably strong effort, yet one inspired by a gentility and spiritual inquisitiveness that's comfortably familiar. -Jerry McCulley.

One of the most charming British bands of the last decade, Supergrass managed to fit in everywhere but not be part of any scene. Supergrass Is 10: The Best of 94-04 reminds us just how many catchy hits they had from their breakthrough BritPop anthem "Alright" to new single "Kiss of Life". In no particular order, the 21 songs here (including two new ones and an old B-side) cover catchy pop ("Alright", "Grace", "Sun Hits the Sky"), slick retro-rock ("Pumping on Your Stereo", "Seen the Light", "Going Out"), spikey punk-rock ("Caught by the Fuzz", "Richard III", "Lenny") and gentle acoustic numbers ("Moving", "Late in the Day"). Wearing their influences on their sleeve, Supergrass manage to successfully pull off pastiches of songs by Bowie, Bolan and the Monkees. The single made for this album, "Kiss of Life", harks back, even more strangely, to the theme from "Grease". This is a great collection of music from a great band. Here's hoping Supergrass make it to their 20th birthday. -David Trueman.

Don't look for a richly illustrated, critical essay-packed hagiography with The Record, a 40-track, double-disc overview of the Bee Gees' recording career. In typical, telling fashion, the Brothers Gibb have eschewed such exercises in ego inflation and simply let the best of their remarkable body of music speak for itself. Through it all, their familiar voices lock together in the sort of transcendent, seemingly genetic harmony that few singers since the Everly Brothers (early Gibb inspirations) have managed. Beginning with the plaintive 1966 hit "New York Mining Disaster 1941", this set traces the Gibb's journey from successful Beatles-era balladeers to 1970s white R&B gods and the undisputed kings of disco (we're reminded here that their shrewd metamorphosis began with "Nights on Broadway" and "Jive Talkin" long before the mega-success of "Saturday Night Fever"). But even as that dance-craze faded again threatening to turn the Bee Gees into pop anachronisms, the Gibbs simply stepped out of the limelight for a while, turning their talents to MOR hitmaking for the likes of Dolly Parton, Barbara Streisand and Dionne Warwick, whose hits ("Emotion", "Heartbreaker", "Islands in the Stream") are featured here in modern re-recordings by the band, along with the Streisand/Barry Gibb duet, "Guilty". -Jerry McCulley.

Bruce Hornsby is now best known for his stints playing keyboards with the Grateful Dead and for his involvement in such post-Dead projects as the Further Festival. An incomparable keyboard wizard whose skills are widely admired while his albums are consistently underrated, Hornsby's greatest commercial success is slipping rapidly into the past. His 1986 debut, The Way It Is (recorded with his band, the Range) is the high watermark of his career commercially, having sold several million copies and spawned a trio of hit singles, including "Mandolin Rain," "Every Little Kiss," and of course, the No. 1 smash, "The Way It Is. " Overall, it's Hornsby's most tuneful album, though not necessarily his most accomplished work. His is a catalog that is long overdue for reevaluation. -Daniel Durchholz.

The lyrics "It's about the music, not about the face" hardly represent a breakthrough in political pop theorising. But when the Sugababes sing them on "Whatever Makes You Happy" (the second track on Three, a rather literal title for the group's third album), it's difficult to suspend one's incredulity. After all, while multi-racial dolly mixtures Mutya Buena, Heidi Range and Keisha Buchanan hardly resemble abominable gargolyes, their relatively indignant demeanour (coupled with the lingering durability of classic hits like "Freak Like Me" and "Overload") has been welcomed as an antidote to the abidingly glossy transience of banal girlie pop. Frankly, the Sugababes are better at making music (with a little cowriting assistance from a coterie of professionals) than pulling faces and "keeping it street". This album, therefore, could have been fatally undermined by getting too dangerous ("Nasty Ghetto" is all hammy, bluesy, back-street melodrama copenned with Linda Perry from 4 Non Blondes) or by such lapses into working-class ingratiation as "Don't wanna spend my time in the VIP / Gotta meet someone who doesn't need publicity". However, the electronic ska of "Hole in the Head", the soothing balladry of "Caught in the Moment" (reminiscent of Neneh Cherry at her most chilled) or the insistent drum loops, ominously squawking melodica and dervish groove of "Situation's Heavy" are powerful enough to sway any cynic while the cheeky R&B of "Buster" (nightclub lothario atttempts to entice some less-than-gullible filly into a cab and back to his pad for the proverbial cappuccino) amuses no end. They'll be back for a fourth album, which is more than can be said for many of their peers. -Kevin Maidment.

Stereophonics' first official live recording captures them out on the road in the USA-specifically, Dakota, the inspiration for their 2005 UK No. 1 single-knocking out the Everyman anthems that, if the ecstatic crowd reaction here is to be believed, stretches far beyond their genesis in the sleepy Welsh valleys. Stretched over two CDs, Live From Dakota cuts through every strata of Stereophonic' career, from recent album moments like "Superman" and "Doorman"-played here as a bristly one-two opening salvo-to forgotten gems like "Carrot Cake And Wine", a B-side dating all the way back to Word Gets Around. The sound is crisp, belying little of the cavernous arena it's captured in, and crowd noise is generally unobtrusive, aside from when Kelly Jones vacates the microphone towards the close of "Traffic", the audience chorusing the words back with perceptible American twang. Inevitably, affairs end with a breezy run through "Dakota", capping a live set that should satisfy fans and work as a good entry to newcomers before that inevitable Greatest Hits materialises. -Louis Pattison.