The Rising is Bruce Springsteen's much-anticipated first full-length album with the E Street Band in 18 years. Although it seemed the Boss had put writing rock anthems behind him following Born in the USA, his long-time fans knew if any artist could write anthems addressing September 11, 2001 and not make them sound jingoistic, it would be Bruce Springsteen. The numerous anthems on The Rising are subtler than those of the Born to Run era. But the elements are all there-be it the joyous rocking strains of "Countin' on a Miracle", "Mary's Place" and "Waitin' on a Sunny Day"; the dark overtones of "Further on Up the Road"; or the stunning guitar solo that closes "Worlds Apart", a dramatic Arabic-tinged piece detailing star-crossed love between a Muslim and an "infidel. " While most of these songs deal with death and tragedy, they still inspire. But while the lyrics are intriguing, what's more remarkable is how well The Rising works as epic rock & roll as it draws from rockabilly, soul, doo-wop hard rock, country and even industrial. To skewer an old cliche, when The Rising is good, it's great. And even when it's not great, it's still awfully good. -Bill Holdship.

This is tragicomedy of the highest Loser order. Drunk Enough to Dance, the second album from Texan pop punks Bowling for Soup, rips through the kind of chugging riffs and high-school trauma that no US teen movie should be without. Led by former pet-shop owner Jaret Von Erich, the quartet here deliver 17 speedy doses of wise-cracking brat-pop while Von Erich picks over his hapless love life. As in the top-10 single "Girl All the Bad Guys Want"-a frustration-venting pogo-along about a hot rock-chick with a nose ring-the objects of his affection are invariably out of his league. This prompts a deluge of droll wallowing along the lines of this, in "Don't Wanna Rock": "She makes me want to be a homosexual / maybe then I'd be her best friend and see her naked once in a while. " Even when he does get the girl of his dreams, in true screw-up style there are minor hiccups, as he whines regretfully on the lovelorn belter "Emily": "I got drunk / had sex with all your friends / you told me I should never call your house again. " Self-conscious, self-deprecating, and heavy on the self-pity, with big choruses, killer lines and a persecution complex to match, slacker rock doesn't come much better than this. -Dan Gennoe.

JJ Cale is in the curious situation of being best known for another artist's work: Eric Clapton's version of his song, "Cocaine". And admirable as the Clapton track may be, it is little more than a tribute to Cale's own unique sound, a sleepy, bluesy shuffle something akin to Ry Cooder on valium. The likes of Dire Straits and Chris Rea made their mark peddling pale imitations of Cale's guitar playing and song writing, and it's well worth your while to hear the real thing. This exhaustive anthology covers a quarter-century in which Cale has done little more than emphasise and refine his marvellously relaxed style. His songs capture the essence of life in the small, dusty towns of the American Southwest-sometimes laid-back, sometimes beaten down and weary, but always unhurried and understated. Titles like "Call Me The Breeze", "Lonesome Train" and "Wish I Had Me A Dollar" give a fair idea of Cale's familiar subjects. But if you've never heard his music, very likely you'll swiftly find it both unique and addictive. -David Bennun.

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.

If punk drove virtuosity from rock, Van Halen, with the flashy expertise of their debut LP, and as the stage-stealing support on Black Sabbath's Never Say Die tour, singlehandedly revived it. Main focus was guitarist Edward Van Halen, with his grinning good looks and startlingly fast fingerwork. The chiming, swooping instrumental "Eruption", which he'd often perform spinning on his back, sent a new generation haring down to the guitar shops. This was hard rock as no-holds-barred entertainment. Drummer Alex Van Halen would play with his kit literally in flames. Strutting, super-athletic vocalist David Lee Roth produced sexy, seedy, streetwise lyrics since matched only by Axl Rose from Guns 'n' Roses, but also possessed a pop sensibility that made hits out of "Runnin' With The Devil" and their cover of "You Really Got Me". Glamorous, humorous, heavy but heavily melodic, Van Halen was the high-water mark for 1980's US rock. -Dominic Wills At least half of the songs on Van Halen's eponymous 1978 debut are still considered classics, and the Eddie Van Halen instrumental "Eruption" revolutionised the guitar community by introducing a technique called finger-tapping into the heavy metal lexicon. A magnificent debut for sure, but maybe the band should have held onto a few of their blockbuster tunes to bolster the lean years that started after 1984, and continue to the present day. Regardless, Van Halen amply demonstrate their drive, showmanship, and musicianship throughout, blowing the needle off the scale on such tracks as "You Really Got Me", "Jamie's Cryin'", "Runnin' with the Devil", and "Ain't Talkin' 'Bout Love". [+]

One of the greatest ironies surrounding This Is Spinal Tap is that it's actually better than many of the recordings it parodies. Songs like "Tonight I'm Gonna Rock You Tonight", "Hell Hole", "Heavy Duty" and even "Stonehenge" are fun, 1980s-style rockers that any closet hair-band fan will enjoy, and "Sex Farm" and "Big Bottom" are hilarious, especially to those same closet fans. There's also the hippie-drippy "Listen to the Flower People" (even funnier if you've seen Rob Reiner's film of the same title), although Michael McKean and Christopher Guest singing "Cry, Cry, Cry All the Way Home" is sadly absent. The CD does lose some of its entertainment value if you haven't seen the film, but its mix of comedy and unabashed pop metal makes it the perfect party album. -Genevieve Williams.

The inspiration for Ludovico Einaudi's I Giorni was a 12th-century folk song from Mali about a hippopotamus who was cherished by the residents of a nearby village but killed by a hunter. "The song," writes Einaudi in his succinct liner note, "is sung as a lament for the death of a king or a great person or for the loss of a loved one. " The result is a tender and introspective set of 14 piano pieces, performed on this recording by the composer himself. I Giorni comes hot on the heels of Eden Roc, released just eight months earlier, which demonstrates Einaudi's popularity. I Giorni is the Italian composer's second all-piano disc, the first being Le Onde. Einaudi's piano compositions, staples of the Classic FM diet, owe more to the music of Satie and Michael Nyman than to his former teacher Luciano Berio. Indeed, several movements of I Giorni, "Quel che resta" in particular, contain more than a passing reference to Nyman's soundtrack to The Piano. The pervading mood is melancholic and soporific-this is music to wind down to and let wash over you. -Rebecca Agnew.

An introductory drum roll drops out and is replaced by a single suspended electric guitar, which is then paralleled by a snare, filled in with the bass, and-crash!-"Cherub Rock", the opening track, is enveloped in an explosion of metal guitar. So the journey begins. This album is pre-experimentation vintage Pumpkins. Produced by Butch Vig (Garbage, Sonic Youth, Nirvana's Nevermind), Siamese Dream is first about guitars. Lots and lots of guitars. A very close second is Jimmy Chamberlain's unquestionably excellent power drumming. Throughout each song, Billy Corgan delivers angsty lyrics in his signature breathy whine. "Disarm" is a nice intermission halfway though the album. As the title of the song suggests, it throws the listener into a different mood with its full string arrangements and radiant orchestral chimes. But then it is back to the aural masochism-a pain that rarely sounds so sweet. [+]