It's often the way of rock & roll-the accidental stuff you don't sweat over often turns out to be better than the supposedly generation-defining monolith you rupture your life to expel. So it was with Oasis and their third album, Be Here Now-soaked with sweat, it left Noel and Liam purple-faced with effort and stank like old egg sandwiches in a sock. Meanwhile The Masterplan-b-sides and live tracks-came out a year later and effortlessly reminded everyone why they'd liked the hairy brothers in the first place. "Acquiesce"-don't worry, they admitted they didn't know what the word meant, they just liked the sound of it-was the greatest single they never released: a huge, affirmative sibling bellow-fest that makes "D'You Know What I Mean?" sound like a polite old grandma coughing in comparison. The mournful "Rockin' Chair"-another "lost" Oasis classic, makes it onto here, along with a truly execrable live version of the Beatles' "I Am The Walrus", which actually sounds like they got a walrus to sing it, but no matter. The magic, so latterly absent in Oasis's career, is here in spades. -Caitlin Moran.

The third album from the most successful of all the bands to spring from the New York punk scene, Parallel Lines is perhaps the definitive Blondie album. Produced by pop svengali Mike Chapman, it epitomises the astute mix of new wave chic and pop sensibility that spawned four hit singles from the album, and gives Debbie Harry's voice a platform of sleek professional pop that it had previously lacked. "Hanging On The Telephone" is a driven, up-tempo gem, "Picture This" soars deliciously around blissful melodies, while "Heart Of Glass" flirts seductively with disco. And it's proof of the album's mettle that tracks like "Fade Away And Radiate" are just as impressive as the singles. -Amber Cowan.

This Is Music: The Singles: 92 - 98 represents a landmark collection of releases from one of the most celebrated British bands of the last decade, The Verve. Richard Ashcroft and his reformed band of northern souls stood astride the mid-nineties like a colossus, after finally producing the masterpiece that everyone knew they were capable of (1997's Urban Hymns). A collection of their most successful work is long overdue, particularly with Ashcroft's solo career stalled after two below average efforts. This rolls out the singles from their three albums, early EPs and the obligatory new tracks too, both unreleased from the Urban Hymns sessions. Interesting though these collector's items are, the real treasure lies in simply rediscovering, like Suede, what a great singles band they were. Witness the grandeur and scope of "History" - with it's epic (if overdone) strings and classic Ashcroft delivery or the genuine melancholy of "The Drugs Don't Work. " They became, as Oasis and the Stone Roses did, a band of the people; of the nation. The era-defining "Bittersweet Symphony", grand without the Gallagher's arrogance, somehow intellectual in place of their brutish stupidity, didn't so much carve The Verve a path as stomp one through the crowd. -Ben Johncock.

Scotland's Texas were in danger of becoming one-hit wonders following their failure to capitalise on their Top Ten debut single-1989's "I Don't Want A Lover"-through the early Nineties. Faced with a career crisis, Sharleen Spiteri and writing partner Johnny McElhone began tinkering with their sound and employing modern technology. Cue 1996's massively successful White On Blonde album and a rush of hit songs. "I Don't Want A Lover", with its tired slide riff hasn't worn well, nor have the other pre-watershed songs here like "Everyday Now", "So Called Friend" and "Prayer For You". Nevertheless there are a dozen prime examples of stylised, updated Motown ("Say What You Want", "Black Eyed Boy", "When We Are Together") showcasing the band's song-writing rebirth. Add a pair of fresh numbers co-written with Dallas Austin (the sweet shuffle of "In Demand") and Greg Alexander (the lipglossed "Inner Smile") and The Greatest Hits becomes a weighty pop collection. -Mike Pattenden.

Pretzel Logic marked a transition for Steely Dan from a studio-bound rock band producing hits such as "Reeling in the Years" and "Do It Again" to a looser constellation of studio musicians under the direction of songwriters Walter Becker and Donald Fagen. That later version of Steely Dan would paint its masterpiece with Aja. Pretzel Logic is much more playful than that, and also jazzier than the albums that came before. The jazz intentions are made perfectly clear on "Parker's Band", a swinging tribute to bebop titan Charlie Parker, and a crafty cover of Duke Ellington's "East St. Louis Toodle-oo". The lyrics displayed their own twisted logic, presenting a tumble of images in search of a unifying principle that most often remained elusive. Steely Dan was that rare act that could work such purposeful obscurity to its advantage: "Rikki Don't Lose That Number" was a top-five hit even though nobody had a clue as to what it was about. Or, perhaps, everybody had a clue, but nobody could agree. -John Milward.

One of Stevie Wonder's best albums, and the one where his more fanciful, free-form moments gel perfectly with his knack for irresistible pop singles. 1973's Innervisions swings between delicate and airy ballads, Latin-influenced rhythms (the hit "Don't Worry 'Bout a Thing"), and his own synth-heavy versions of gut-bucket soul (the determined spiritual questing of "Higher Ground"). The striking juxtaposition between "Vision", a barely breathed hope that a world of peace might be upon us, and the great "Living for the City", a funky, pulsing tale of racism, is powerful, haunting, and still all too relevant. -David Cantwell.

Created as a benefit project for Artists' Project Earth, an organization devoted to protecting the environment, reversing climate change, and tendering disaster relief, this compilation pairs Western pop stars (U2, Sting, Artic Monkeys, et al) and their hits with all-new arrangements performed by members of Cuba's Buena Vista Social Club plus other Havana-based talent. The overall effect is of a well-meaning but not entirely simpatico mutual admiration society. Coldplay's "Clocks" is a good example; the lead vocal is coolly lethargic, engulfing the spiky crags of the rhythm section like syrup on a waffle. But then, most of the singers sound strangely unconnected to the frisky 1-2-3/1-2 of the clavé beat. The contrast between the two groups of players could have been bracing, and to many ears it perhaps will be, but most of the time, they seem to transmitting from parallel universes. Not surprisingly, the best tracks are those in which hometown icons are left to do what they do best. But the late, great Ibrahim Ferrer's marvelous interpretation of "As Time Goes By" (his final recording) and Omara Portuondo's wistful yet powerful cover of "Killing Me Softly" only serve to further showcase what's amiss with the rest of the album. -Christina Roden.

Nothing changes folks like babies and war, and since the release of their last album, 2002's Home, the Dixie Chicks have been forever altered by both. If that album showcased the trio as precocious young adults, Taking the Long Way finds them sobered and matured, and in a grown-up state of mind. Produced by the celebrated Rick Rubin (Johnny Cash, Red Hot Chili Peppers), who saw the Chicks as "a great rock act making a country album, not a country act making a rock album," their new record impresses both as beautiful sonic tapestry (peppered with myriad Beatlesque hallmarks) and forthright yet vulnerable portrait of three women shaken by the personal and political events of the past few years. As they make clear in the defiant "Not Ready to Make Nice," they still smart over the backlash from their 2003 Bushwhacking. But as they assert on the equally autobiographical "The Long Way Around," they could never "kiss all the asses that they told me to" and just follow others aimlessly-and silently-through life. This means that the Chicks are simultaneously prideful and scornful of celebrity ("Everybody Knows"), and that as new mothers they increasingly treasure the refuge they find in life with their families, out of the spotlight ("Easy Silence," "Lullaby," "Baby Hold On"). The push and pull of both passions drive this record, which also touches on the personal issues of infertility (with which sisters Martie Maguire and Emily Robison both dealt) and Alzheimer's (from which Natalie Maines's grandmother suffers). The trio crafted all 14 cuts with the help of such writers as Sheryl Crow, Gary Louris, Mike Campbell, and Keb' Mo', laying out their lives as honestly and intimately as they might in their diaries. For that reason, on first listen, Taking the Long Way seems too somber-in need of a bit of levity and more than a couple of uptempo songs (like the sexy, '60s-flavored "I Like It") to resonate for the long haul. It also seems to lack the writing quality that Darrell Scott, Patty Griffin, and Bruce Robison brought to Home. [+]

Please note that this album comes in two alternative sleeves, which will be randomly assigned. Greatest Hits chronicles the remarkable journey of Mr Robert Williams, from being the "fat dancer from Take That" (c. Noel Gallagher) to the multi-million pound jewel in EMI's crown. Assembled in chronological order, all the hits are here, except for his initial solo outing "Freedom", and it's interesting to see how his sound evolves from wannabe Britpop buffoon on the sub-Oasis pubrock of "Old Before I Die" to the subtle captivating melodies of "Feel" and "Come Undone". There are so many great tracks that it's impossible to list them all, but highlights have to be the barnstorming "Let Me Entertain You", the bouncy, floor-filling "Rock DJ" and the song that madeth the man, "Angels". The two latest additions to his canon-"Radio" and "Misunderstood" clearly have one eye on the past, the other on the future - with the latter an instant classic Robbie ballad from the Bridget Jones 2 soundtrack and the former a foray into the world of electro pop that sounds like a warped Human League track from the 1980s. This has to be Robbie's forte, his ability to make great pop records that always sound fresh and full of energy. Every home should have a copy of this album, and chances are, by the end of 2004, most of them will. - Melanie Wilkin.

It's practically impossible to mention Muse without also bringing up Radiohead. Listening to Muse's debut, it's easy to see why. Showbiz was produced by John Leckie, the producer of The Bends, and features the frightfully Yorke-esque choiral falsetto of front-man Matthew Bellamy, running the whole emotional gamut of unhappiness from sincere upset to outright dysfunction. New ground, it's fair to say, remains distinctly unbroken. To Muse's credit, though, they do this angst thing pretty well. "Cave" is a wonderful, terrible epic, replete with rank after rank of bludgeoning guitars, "Muscle Museum" builds up swathes of complex baroque noise, and "Escape"-well, it's a surrogate "No Surprises" with a firework finale, and should keep us ticking over until the next Radiohead album, thank you very much. See? You can't escape the comparison. But at least Showbiz wears it well. -Louis Pattison.