Marilyn Manson's The Golden Age of Grotesque was inspired, in part at least, by the seamy underside of Weimar Berlin, circa 1930. The album is constructed along the lines of Alice Cooper's 1975 gem, Welcome to My Nightmare, dipping in to the same cabaret of Cooper's "Some Folks. " Unlike Cooper, however, this is no comic nightmare. "This isn't a show / This is my fucking life / I'm not ashamed / You're entertained," Manson snarls in "Vodevil," making it abundantly clear that the singer was born in the wrong time and place and is more at home among the absinthe-drinking revellers in pre-Nazi Germany. The album possesses a dark, accessible beauty rather than the twisted industrial dissonance that pervades much of his earlier stuff. "mOBSCENE" is a thumping rocker that features a deranged cheerleading squad. "Ka-Boom Ka-Boom" is a rousing stomper that Manson penned in response to an exec's complaint that the new songs didn't rock. Its simple yet seditious chorus decries, "I like a big car, 'cause I'm a big star / I'll make a big rock & roll hit. " Since 1998's Mechanical Animals, Manson's albums have become progressively more tuneful, and Grotesque continues the trend. -Jaan Uhelszki.

There was much speculation that Showtime, the second LP from 2003 Mercury Music Prize winner Dizzee Rascal would see this UK Garage prodigy turn his back on the Hackney estates and tighten ties with the American hip-hop fraternity. Thankfully, this is a good a time as any to say 'You can take the boy out of Bow but you can't take the Bow out of the boy', for Showtimepresents a Dizzee bolder, brassier, but no less indebted to his grimy past. It's all here - lo-tech video game production ("Stand Up Tall"), bizarre threats of violence ("I'm 5'10", chocolate skin/ I'll punch you in your nostril, I'll punch you in your shin," goes "Everywhere"), and frequent flashes of lunatic humour that elevate Dizzee above his UK Garage peers: take "Dreams", which uses a sample of Captain Sensible's "Happy Talk" to bemusing and hilarious effect. Sober reflection remains part of the Rascal worldview, as on "Imagine" - a truly fragile wisp of synth and strings reminiscent of Aphex Twin's ambient moments. But balance is crucial, and that comes with stone-cold playa anthem 'Girls', performed alongside curiously high-pitched Dizzee affiliate Marga Man: "So much gash, no time to rest" -Louis Pattison.

During the 1990s, Massive Attack were simply untouchable as the most groundbreaking British band for decades. Each of their three studio albums preceding 100th Window were pioneering masterpieces, with 1991's Blue Lines acclaimed as one of the best British albums of all time. Nowadays, Massive Attack aren't so much a "great band" as a "one-man-band", with Robert "3D" Del Naja the only member of the original trio on this album. 100th Window may be Massive Attack's fourth album (on paper, at least), but it's effectively Del Naja's solo debut. Ironically, 100th Window sounds as distinctly Massive Attack-like as any of its predecessors, except the low, slow raps of Daddy G and Mushroom have been replaced by the fragile voice of Sinead O'Connor. Put simply, 100th Window sounds eerily similar to 1998's Mezzanine; it's dark, broody, intense and, at times, quite uncomfortable, with the odd shimmering ray of light allowed to peep through Del Naja's murky nocturnal soundscapes. Occasionally it sounds like Clannad done in a dubwise style (check the impressive "A Prayer For England" or unlikely single "Special Cases"), at others like a late night trip through Bristol's run-down estates in the company of the Grim Reaper. With such an impressive back catalogue, 100th Window should have been something new, fresh and original, but as it is it's just another dose of Mezzanine's paranoid broodiness. Of course, 100th Window is still a very good record-no-one does darkness with quite the same warmth and murkiness as Massive Attack-but this isn't half the album it could have been. -Matt Anniss.

Scots avant-rockers Mogwai may never quite shake their reputation as determined sonic brutalists, but a spin of Happy Songs for Happy People demonstrates that they're no longer simply set on rendering the aural equivalent of being sucked out a spaceship airlock. Although always a democracy, previously, Stuart Braithwaite had taken on the role of Mogwai's bandleader-by-proxy, his tumultuous guitar roar the outfit's most obvious hallmark. Now, however, multi-instrumentalist Barry Burns appears to fulfil this role-albeit, with much more restraint-crooning effect-heavy vocals somewhere from the wispy heart of "Hunted By a Freak", teasing out a meditative piano line on the ghostly "I Know You Are But What Am I?". Indeed, more than any other Mogwai work, sheer bliss appears to be this album's singular aim: even the amp-busting crescendo of "Ratts of the Capital" matches its dark metal pomp with chiming orchestra bells and starburst lead-guitar lines. No sudden banjo interludes or no guest vocals jar with the album's slow passage towards its conclusion-and it's a fact that plants the fear that maybe Mogwai are all played out. True, it's hard to shake the feeling that they'll never again write something as monumental as Come On Die Young. But even revolving in their ever-tightening spiral, Mogwai sound lush and powerful. Their time is not yet past. -Louis Pattison.

Orville Richard Burrell aka Shaggy has bounded back to the top with Hot Shot, 15 eclectic songs in the field somewhere between Reggae, Dancehall, Pop and R&B. Shaggy is energetically supported by producers such as Jimmy Jam & Terry Lewis and backs the usual melodies with his trademark irresistible rhythms. Songs such as the hit single "It Wasn't Me" and the groovy "Freaky Girl " are high points on the album and exemplify the wonderfully sung harmonies with his guest vocalists. In conclusion Shaggy has made a pop-reggae success which is very easy on the ear - Norbert Schiegl.

There was a time when you couldn't step into a dance club without hearing at least part of this recording booming over the sound system. The often over-played hit, "Situation," was a bubbling caldron of nasally synth noodlings, a whopping bass line, and drum machine wallops. Alison Moyet's looped laugh in the middle of the song ended up as a sample, over-used a thousand times over. Yaz was an interesting blend of Moyet's smoky blues and jazz tinged vocals with Vince Clarke's digital disco. Moyet's voice alone was instrument enough, and the melodies here perfectly showcased her incredible range. Upstairs easily moved between energetic dance floor exuberance ("Don't Go" and "Good-bye Seventies"), blues-inspired wailers ("Midnight"), and icy electronic minimalism ("Winter Kills"). It was an explosion of a debut, touching upon '80s gay disco, synth pop, and diva-ism in one fell swoop. The CD closes with the overlooked "Didn't I Bring Your Love Down," an infectious barn burner with a call/response break that blows the roof off of Eric's little techno-pop room. -Steve Gdula.

45. 33 might well confuse some of the music purists convinced that great art and commerce must never mix. This 45-minute suite of music, you see, is the result of a commission from sportswear company Nike, who hired LCD Soundsystem's James Murphy to write music to accompany the perfect exercise workout. Murphy, perhaps aware that the gradual, building tempo and euphoric highs of a great run could be seen to closely mirror the dancefloor dynamic of a great DJ set, agreed, and the result is perhaps the most synthetic, funky, altogether club-like records to appear under the LCD name to date. Commencing with rising analogue synth notes, the piece shuffles into life on a sultry Studio 54 tip, a mid-tempo disco beat decorated with handclaps, euphoric piano, and soulful vocals. Before long, though, it's shifting and mixing, first through an alternate instrumental cut of "Something Great" (which would later appear in full on LCD's 2007 album Sound of Silver) then through phases of kosmiche electronica, velvety soul, and brass freak-outs-all intent on keeping the tempo pumping. Also included on this CD issue of 45. 33 is three bonus tracks, the conga-tapping "Freak Out/Starry Eyes", a bleepy, dubbed-out mix of "North American Scum", and the bouncy bass grooves of "Hippie Priest Bum-Out". -Louis Pattison.

New Order-the band that rose from the ashes of Joy Division after vocalist Ian Curtis took his own life-emerged from the post-punk permafrost of the early Eighties to straddle the pop world like a Dionysian disco Pink Floyd on MDMA. Waiting for the Sirens' Call-the band's eighth studio album and the Manchester combos' second outing since 1998's resumption of duties-is hardly likely to ensnare the post-millennial zeitgeist. But that's ageism for you. Leaving the legends of yore aside, a dispassionate analysis of Waiting for the Sirens' Call reveals two incontrovertibly classic new songs; "Turn" is a subdued but brooding successor to "Regret" while the title track-the sort of song that could soundtrack an entire summer-ploughs a lineal furrow right back through "Run", "All Day Long", "Love Vigilantes", "Leave Me Alone" and Joy Division's "Insight". Elsewhere there's a swathe of comfortably solid electro-indie rock cut from the same chiffon as "Brotherhood" or "Republic" and three quarrelsomely anomalous bones of un-New Orderly contention. The latter trinity-the brainlessly curt but catchy Stooges/Strokes stomp of "Working Overtime", the balmy indolent ragga of "I Told You So" and the effete "Jetstream Lover" (featuring Scissor Sister Ana Matronic) may precipitate fretful responses from the cognoscenti but at least these manoeuvres counter suspicions that New Order are treading water in a sea of circumspection. Yes, one senses that the guitar numbers flowed instinctively while the clubbier dance songs endured a more toilsome genesis (perhaps the songwriting balance has altered with guitarist Phil Cunningham having moved in to replace Gillian Gilbert) and yes, some numbers ("Guilt Is A Useless Emotion", "Dracula's Castle") are excellent but self-referential. Regardless, Waiting for the Sirens' Call is an engaging, quality record. -Kevin Maidment.

Taken from the opening night of Kylie Minogue's rescheduled 'Showgirl' tour, Showgirl Homecoming is, to all intents and purposes, a live (and slightly updated version) of 2004's Great Hits collection, Ultimate Kylie. This being her first show since successfully battling cancer, Kylie of course pulls out all the stops to make the Sydney date - and the rest of the tour of course - a formidable comeback statement. The 25 tracks here pretty much cover all the key points in Kylie's career - good as well as bad: "Better The Devil You Know", "Spinning Around", "I Believe In You", "Locomotion", "I Should Be So Lucky", "Hand On Your Heart", "Can't Get You Out Of My Head", "Kids" (with a guest appearance from Bono), are just some of the many gems included. It's true that the earlier material (especially from the Stock Aitken & Waterman days) sounds horribly dated even when performed live, but Kylie manages to glide through it all with the kind of sass and style you'd expect from a reborn 21st Century Queen Of Pop. Welcome back Kylie. -Danny McKenna.