The Best of Groove Armada charts the success of one of the UK's most popular dance acts. Featuring the biggest hits from their last three albums, this anthology of their time on the Jive label is packed with downbeat and upbeat anthems, and an array of music as heard in film, television and radio. The subdued intro and trombone melody of "Superstylin" opens the collection softly with the now legendary bassline kicking in for a perfect euphoric moment. Other upbeat anthems include the piano house of "If Everybody Looked the Same", the Fatboy Slim mix of Gramma Funk's "I See You Baby" (both of which have been used to sell cars) and the more recent disco hit, "Easy". However, although Tom Findlay and Andy Kato pack dance floors every weekend, it's their downbeat soul that receives most attention, partly due to the "chillout" explosion of 2000 that made "At the River" a classic of the genre. With their last album Lovebox, GA showed a more versatile, band-influenced side with songs like the Status Quo sampling "Purple Haze", the rocky "Madder" and fun-loving ska of "But I feel Good". The Best of Groove Armada is a great selection of songs showing the diversity and musical progression of the band, a perfect introduction for the un-initiated and a good collection for those already converted. -Georgina Collins.

An astonishingly intense and ambitious album, Elbow's Cast of Thousands is relentlessly experimental. Having toiled for 10 years over their spellbinding Mercury-nominated debut Asleep in the Back, the maverick Bury five-piece-who were initially hailed as the new Radiohead-have produced a worthy sequel in a comparatively short two years. While mirroring their debut's melancholy tone, this album's romantic lyricism and uplifting harmonies inject a fresh dynamic. From the first bar, Cast of Thousands is enthralling. "Ribcage", an exquisite rousing treasure, builds on a languorous and fragmented melody into a cohesive climax while Garvey listlessly intones (with a flat mic taped to his larynx) the charming mantra, "When the sunshine/ throwing me a lifeline/ finds its way in to my room/ all I need is you". Meanwhile, the London Community Gospel choir's spiralling harmonies echo Blur's "Tender" in its lo-fi, mellifluous majesty. But the majority of the album is far less grandiose with the haunting "Snooks (Progress Report)" and "I've Got Your Number" bristling with an unnerving intimacy and brooding dialogue. It's an enchanting return that finds Elbow stretching from despair to lovelorn tenderness. -Christopher Barrett.

Reykjavík-based noise quartet Sigur Ros are the biggest band in their native Iceland, which should say much, much more about the collective insanity of that earthquake-ridden, blizzard-beaten crag of an island than anything to do with Sigur Ros' sound. But in their music, Sigur Ros reflect all the breathtaking glory of the Icelandic wastes-a fairy-tale explosion of unhinged elemental majesty that's finally crystalised here, their debut European release. Poised somewhere between the haunting soundscapes of Labradford and the lilting Celtic falsetto of Enya, Agaetis Byrjun is a truly breathtaking listen. Frontman Jon Por Birgisson sings in a language that Sigur Ros dub Hopelandic-an otherworldly mutation of Icelandic, sung in the falsetto cadence of angels; similarly, he plays his guitar with a violin bow, opening the floodgates for brilliant waves of feedback. And while it's the opening "Svefn-G-Englar" that's Sigur Ros' defining moment to date, there's far more that Agaetis Byrjun has to offer; the pomp and flourish of a full orchestra on "Flugufrelsarinn", or the awe-inspiring near-religious mantra of "Ny Batteri". -Louis Pattison.

Anyone expecting Sigur Ros to have abandoned their emotional and majestic approach will think again after hearing the opening bars of their new album, ( ). When Sigur Ros released their second long player Agaetis Byrjun back in 1999, they caught everyone on the hop. Though it was pretty much the first anyone outside of their native Iceland had heard of them, the quartet had been studiously honing their sound for the last five years, developing a spellbinding mix of rock guitars scraped with violin bows, angelic falsetto vocals and dramatic builds of percussion fuelled tension that offered all the ineffable quietude of religious music. ( ) is a slightly rawer, undoubtedly heavier experience than its predecessor, but it still manages to shine a torch into the darkest corner of our souls, describing accurately the aching beauty and the hopeless anguish that makes up the contradictory essence of human existence. Experimental flourishes hark back to their eldritch debut album Von, and Jonsi's vocals-which have devolved over two albums from Icelandic to his own "Hopelandic" half-language-finally melt into lyric-less harmonic textures that still float across the band's earthy tapestries as naturally as clouds cross the night sky. Rest assured though that any changes are slight; the melancholy brilliance that made Agaetis Bryjun such a life-changing event is still very much the driving force behind Sigur Ros's music, making this new album every bit as essential as the last. -Paul Sullivan.

Many a critical evaluation of Icelandic quartet Sigur Ros has resorted to stock imagery of molten magma, omnipotent ice fields and burbling hot springs-and reasonably so. There's no disavowing the geophysical heartbeat which invigorates the very soul of this most supernatural of bands. Takk may well be Sigur Ros's most stimulating interpretation of their habitat yet-verdant serenity to pregnant anticipation to brutal paroxysms of volcanic thunder via icicle-like celestes, howling electrical winds of curving guitar feedback and hymns seemingly sung by castrato pixies. Strange and overwhelmingly beautiful. Some may think of Sigur Ros as a permafrosted Pink Floyd (circa Zabriskie Point) and while it's facile to say as much it's an honour certainly worthy of them. There's a seamless, symphonic poetry to Takk where the exultant "Gong", the euphoric choristry of "Hoppipolla" (like the Beach boys turned into snowmen) and the National Geographic panoramas of "Glososli" blend with intuitive homogeneity. You'll wish you were here. -Kevin Maidment.

A greatest-hits package sampling four Enigma discs released between 1990 and 2000, LSD-Love Sensuality Devotion splendidly documents the influential output of Michael Cretu, a techno-bohemian who successfully creates cinematic, otherworldly New Age musical suites. Now, more than a decade removed from the arrival of Sadeness (Part 1) and its eyebrow-raising mix of sacred and sensual subplots, people can debate whether Cretu's music represents savvy commercial calculation or satisfying art. LSD suggests a split decision, though tracks with intriguing blends of atmosphere and rhythm, such as "Gravity of Love", "TNT for the Brain" and "Morphing Thru Time", reveal an inventiveness that demonstrates Cretu is capable of more than sophisticated novelty tunes. Two new songs, neither especially noteworthy, open this package. Meanwhile, remastered older tracks segue beautifully to exude a satisfying, seamless unity. -Terry Wood.

While it's tempting to position Elbow next to the sardonic likes of Badly Drawn Boy-mainly because of their proximity to the city of Manchester and their way with an acoustic guitar-Asleep In The Back, their frighteningly competent debut album, bears not the joker's smile. Instead, it comes straight from Manchester's simmering, ugly dark side-eleven tracks of rain-sodden misery, blown up into the breed of gracefully elegiac fatalism that once formed the essence of the likes of Joy Division. The foggy psychedelic swirl and sewer-deep dub basslines might recall the prog-rock indulgences of Radiohead, but Elbow's grievances are unmistakably aired from the far end of a dole queue; "Any Day Now" veritably fidgets with small town frustration, lead singer Guy Garvey-a man with the voice of an angel and the face of a brickie-hissing "Any day now/ How's about getting out of this place/ Anyways?" over and over, a mantra of desperation. Should we take it as a given that Elbow will break out of this rut of depression and despair? Asleep In The Back is good enough to suggest so. But then, Asleep In The Back also knows that fate can be awfully cruel. -Louis Pattison.

Moon Safari, the first album proper by this pair of middle-class Frenchmen, easily survives unscathed from its billing as that most deadly of sub-genres: dinner party music. True, Moon Safari, with its blatant bliss-provoking easy listening chimes, sits well beside Everything But the Girl's Walking Wounded or Portishead's Dummy, but the album is steeped in too much musical verve and gallic humour to become as dull as Chardonnay. "Sexy Boy", the first single, is a rock-out slab of electronica about a toy monkey, for instance-hardly the thing to discuss in polite society. This album's highs come with their two marriages with the contributing vocals of American Beth Hirsch. "All I Need" and "You Make It Easy" are shockingly successful, with Hirsch bringing gravitas and sincerity, flagging the album with strong emotional pointers in the midst of their musical adventures. If you didn't know, you'd think her words were sampled from a lost jazz classic-that's how good this record sounds. -Charlie Porter.

Zero 7's ability to conjure beautiful lullabies with all the romance of 1960s French pop, as found on their debut long-player Simple Things, would have made them the toast of soundtrack composers and chillout connoisseurs the world over. Unfortunately, two French men beat Henry Binns and Sam Hardaker to the title of Masters Of Comedown Cool, leaving the London duo to a life time of being termed the British Air. And justifiably so to some degree; the similarities between Zero 7's lush cinematic soundscapes and those of Air's Moon Safari and The Virgin Suicides Soundtrack are so strong as to sound almost intentional. Nonetheless, their debut is a truly gorgeous album. All the tried and tested atmospheric tricks are in play-bleeps and whooshes layered over plodding Fender Rhodes chords, swathes of strings and tender trumpet parps-but it's Binns & Hardaker's languid grooves and the soft melancholy of their melodies that make dream-state instrumentals "Give It Away" and "Polaris" utterly enchanting. The real power of Simple Things, however, is in its songs. As beautiful as their ambient strains are, it's when laid beneath the seductive vocals of Australian diva Sia on the ethereal "Destiny" or the heart breaking "Distractions" that their potency becomes apparent. With such moving tracks as these, Zero 7 dispel the notion that Simple Things is just another collection of nice background music and that they're just riding on Air's coattails. -Dan Gennoe.

The great iconoclast of techno returns with a smooth, sacred and exhilarating record. Play's concoction of breakbeat rhythms, ambient mixology and inspired blues and gospel samples cry out across musical genres and histories, imparting a time-tested wisdom to beat-driven ears. Moby's devout faith-in both God and his own musical whims-give this approach a sort of legitimacy that another, less sincere artist would never have. That sincerity reverberates through the beats and instrumental eclecticism like a pulse. The soulful refrains and proclamations in "Find My Baby" and "Natural Blues" somehow nestle between straight-up dance-floor rave-ups ("Bodyrock") and melt-in-your-mouth ambience ("Inside") with an effortless grace. Moby reaches across his turntables and finds something pure-almost organic. In fact, the album feels more natural than techno is ever supposed to feel, more spiritual than DJs are supposed to be able to muster and more alive than it has any right to be. Check out the spellbinding compilation Natural Blues to hear the original source material from blues and spiritual singers such as Etta James, Vera Hall and BB King. -Matthew Cooke.

So much unnecessary fuss was made over Enigma's juxtaposition of the sexual and sacred. After all, Prince had been doing it for years, and his take on it was far more interesting-and a lot more daring. But Enigma's MCMXC A. D. did manage to work a lot of people into a lather, both on the dance floor and behind the pulpit. Their inclusion of chanting monks in "Sadeness", over wooshy ambient noises and a slower hip-hop-appropriated beat was a sensation. "Callas Went Away" promised more than it could deliver, although "Mea Culpa" stands as one of the few shining moments on the CD. The idea of mixing new age aural wallpaper with beats that you can do a slow grind to is actually rather intriguing. Spicing it up with controversial religious chants isn't a bad idea either. But there's got to be something personal to it. [+]

British electronics wunderkind Richard James (alias Aphex Twin, AFX, Polygon Window, etc. ) claims he heard the compositions on Selected Ambient Works, Volume II in lucid dreams. Like abstract paintings composed of shades of a single colour, James's resonant explorations of specific timbres linger close to a central idea on each cut, incorporating just enough variation to remain disturbing. While its predecessor, Selected Ambient Works '85-'92 drew on seven years worth of material, the uniform quality of these untitled tracks, plus their judicious sequencing, suggests they were assembled over a shorter period. Clocking in at over 150 minutes, the double-disc set (if this is "selected", how many hours of outtakes remain?) provides an exemplary introduction to the quieter facets of James's expansive, idiosyncratic aesthetic. -Kurt B. Reighley.

Truthfully it's been some time since Air's Nicolas Godin and Jean-Benoît Dunkel could truthfully be said to be pop musicians, but their fourth album Pocket Symphony journeys further from the pop firmament than ever before. Slow, stately songs built around the tick of electronic drums, the trill of vintage synthesisers, and somewhat unexpectedly, some traditional Japanese instruments - the koto, a Japanese floor harp, and the banjo-like shamisen - it's an album apparently more concerned with texture and mood than crafting catchy pop fromage. Certainly, it often does it well: 'Mayfair Song' locks into a dazed, lightly cosmic groove oddly reminiscent of Talk Talk circa Spirit Of Eden, all purposeful piano and moody, drifting bass, while the blissful 'Photograph' sees angelic vocals submerged within a tide of shimmering strings and trilling chimes. For the most part, vocals are fairly sparse, but there are two guest spots: the first from Jarvis Cocker, who murmurs like Scott Walker with a sore head through 'Hell Of A Party', and the second from The Divine Comedy's Neil Hannon, who invests 'Somewhere Between Waking And Sleeping' with an impressive melancholy soul. At first, it sounds slight, but carry Pocket Symphony with you, and feel it slowly work its magic. -Louis Pattison.