Back to Basics, Christina Aguilera's first disc in four years, refines and clarifies the-let's call it "sexy"-aura surrounding this platinum firebrand. Here, the best belter in a class that counts Jessica Simpson and Britney Spears on its roll call has turned her attention to love songs: the supercharged and ubiquitous first single "Ain't No Other Man," for one, and the hushed stunner "Save Me from Myself" for another. That doesn't mean she's foresworn being nasty, though. Dive deep into this set, past the gorgeous crackle that frames the old-school jazz-, blues-, and soul-inspired tracks on the first disc, and you'll reach a playful and familiar raunch; "Candyman" celebrates a "one-stop shop" who "makes the panties drop" to a boogie-woogie beat, and "Nasty Naughty Boy" sends out a heated, big-beated invitation to "sip on my champagne/Cause I'm gonna give you a little taste/Of the sugar below my waist. " Thoughtful listeners should snap out of their fascination with Xtina's undiminished yet newly un-tramp-like sexuality, though, because what they'll really want to focus on throughout these 22 tracks is the honest-to-God artistry. While the rock producer Linda Perry helps disc two pop in interesting and unexpected ways (check the muffled blues number "I Got Trouble" and "Mercy on Me," an obvious nod to Fiona Apple), DJ Premier, a mainstay on Jay-Z and Nas projects, pipes a batch of aural high-fives into the nostalgia-bitten first disc (the deep-down funk of "Back in the Day," the strut-strut early hip-hop sound of "Still Dirrty"). Their nudges aside, though, Back to Basics is all Aguilera's baby-she executive-produced, and she's found herself artistically. Nobody would argue, in fact, if she swiveled around the chorus to "Ain't No Other Man," written for her husband, and aimed it at herself: "You got soul, you got class/You got style, you're bada-. " -Tammy La Gorce.

This is the value of working at cross-purposes: The Smiths were Morrissey's excuse to undulate his wry, disaffected lyrics and Johnny Marr's vehicle for his sharp, chiming, pop songs. Their favourite kind of compromise made them essentially a singles band, and The Queen Is Dead has a couple of their best (notably "The Boy With The Thorn In His Side", one of the greatest pop expressions of the Love That Dare Not Speak Its Name). But it also has some wonderful compromises of different kinds: the bizarrely romantic "There Is A Light That Never Goes Out" and "Cemetry Gates", where Marr covers up for Morrissey's floridity with shimmying rockabilly. -Douglas Wolk.

The Polly Jean Harvey you hear on White Chalk is not the wild harpy you heard gnashing and wailing on "Sheela-Na-Gig", or the urbane punk stateswoman of 2000's Stories From the City, Stories From the Sea. No, this is another evolution in her singular career-one that sees electric guitar banished to the cobwebbed attic, tight cat-suit covered over by Victorian gown, and Polly's yearning vocals sounding strangely removed, like they're being broadcast from another, distant age. Piano is the primary instrument here, augmented by occasional, dusty sounding guitar or other, more esoteric stringed instruments-a sparse, limited musical canvas that places the emphasis on song and lyrics. And while initially, they seem foreboding and slow to open up, repeated spins reveal this to be a set of ghostly power and eerily timelessness. "Dear Darkness" is spacious and supremely measured, Harvey singing of words "tightening around the throat of the one I love", while the harp-accompanied "Grow Grow Grow" is impossibly highly-strung, its pain buttoned-up in constricting corsets and tight bows. Only on the closing "The Mountain" does she approach the cathartic anger of her previous work. But then, White Chalk is something else entirely-an icy English gothic that's powerful in its choked restraint. -Louis Pattison.

Scanning the tracklisting of Blur's greatest hits album it's hard not to reach the conclusion that the band are a little embarrassed by their earlier and even mid-career work. Opening with the chart one-two of "Beetlebum" and "Song 2" (from their eponymous creative watershed album of 1997) rather than the baggy groove of debut single "She's So High", the band's desire to accentuate their more recent efforts is obvious. Running order aside, it's hard to fault the 18 tracks which chart the life and times of one of the country's smartest, most inventive bands. From the tuxedoed ballad "The Universal", through cartoon Britpoppery of numbers like "Parklife" and "Country House" to the freshly recorded indie-isms of single "Music Is My Radar", their searching intelligence, deft hooks and willingness to sweep the board are never less than admirable. -Mike Pattenden.

There can barely be an Eagles fan on the face of the planet, after waiting patiently for the best part of 30 years-ignoring the piecemeal (and some might say mean-spirited) sprinkle of new songs on 1994's Hell Freezes Over-that doesn't crave every last minute of this epic stack of original work. But then there also hasn't been a double album in history that couldn't have been improved by shedding at least some of its load and tucking its jeans into its cowboy boots. Long Road out of Eden is no exception to that rule. Much of the first disc passes by in a shuffle of fairly standard, although admittedly enjoyable, mid-beat country-rock (see especially "Busy Being Fabulous") and the appearance of a drum machine on the second hints at a frankly unnecessary dalliance with 80s MOR pop-and one they'd already avoided by splitting the first time around. It's music made by professionals, but lacking the classic, cinematic poise that has made Hotel California a mainstay on the best albums of all-time lists. But then the ambitious reach of the wind-swept, politically charged 10-minute title track really pulls things back, while the pleasant calypso drift of "It's Your World Now", near a cappella melody waterfall of "No More Walks in the Wood" and moody blues swagger of "Somebody" prove there's still just enough wind beneath these wings. -James Berry.

Considered an unprecedented magnum opus when it arrived on two records in May of 1966 (1997's Time out of Mind is actually only about a minute shorter), Blonde on Blonde featured Dylan continuing to demonstrate remarkable powers over the course of 14 new numbers. Working in Nashville with session men and a few conscripted recruits (Al Kooper, Robbie Robertson), Dylan continued to bend minds with his warped lyrics and phrasing. Even dashed-off numbers such as "Obviously 5 Believers" and "Rainy Day Women #12 & 35" contribute to the crazed, fun-house ambience. Dylan will never be this wild again. -Steven Stolder.

It's a shame that the people responsible for The Very Best of The Smiths were neither shameless nor honest enough to include "Paint a Vulgar Picture" on this compilation. Morrissey's awesomely prescient analysis of record company rapacity ("Re-package! Re-package! Re-evaluate the songs/ Double-pack with a photograph/Extra track and a tacky badge") would have been a suitable introduction: The Smiths are already one of the most collected, compiled and anthologised bands in rock history (we've been here already with Best. 1, Best. 2, The World Won't Listen, Louder Than Bombs and Singles, and there's nothing new on The Very Best Of bar a claim that it is "Digitally Remastered", as if anyone can tell). However, it could reasonably be argued that The Very Best Of is not entirely redundant: it appears at a time when the British indie tradition that The Smiths raised to heights still unequalled is now in the hands of people who never knew these songs, who were still in short pants when The Smiths split in 1988. It might be hoped, therefore, that this collection will serve two purposes: one, to inspire today's crop in pursuit of the heights scaled here; two, to remind an increasingly unfussy audience of just how dull, timid and witless the likes of Travis, Coldplay and Stereophonics sound alongside "This Charming Man", "The Boy With The Thorn in His Side" and "How Soon Is Now?". [+]

One need hear only the first notes of this collection-the Edge's ringing guitar notes ushering in "Pride (In the Name of Love)"-to be taken back to 1984: Ronald Reagan and Maggie Thatcher rule the Western world, the L. A. Olympics is the top sports story, and Ms. Pac-Man reigns at arcades. In rock & roll, there's U2 growing in stature with each new tour and title. Even doubters of the Irish lads have to concede that together they formed the one '80s band with the skill and sense of scale to take over the airwaves and concert stages in a decade of diminished expectations. This 15-song '80s best-of assortment (stick around for the hidden track) spans the decade, reaching back to 1980's "I Will Follow," when Bono and company were peach-fuzzy and earnest as choirboys, and tracking their path through their universal domination with 1988's Rattle and Hum. -Steven Stolder.

Radiohead may well be the most courageous band in Britain. Their second album, The Bends, was a success both critically and commercially, and they followed it up with an album of epic prog-rock, OK Computer, that would have destined a lesser band to commercial failure and, eventually, obscurity. Instead, it was almost universally hailed as one of the finest albums ever recorded. So it should come as no great surprise that their fourth album, Kid A, is even more experimental, owing a debt to the studio-born soundscapes of Brian Eno, Aphex Twin and even later Talk Talk. Kid A is an album that would not sound out of place on the Warp Records roster, as keyboards, sequencers and electronic effects take the place of guitars on most tracks (particularly unusual for a band that boasts three guitarists). In fact, this is an album that succeeds without rock's bombast, from the looping keyboards of album opener "Everything In Its Right Place" to the bouncing, bass-led "The National Anthem" to the album's hauntingly atmospheric highlight, "Idioteque". Meanwhile, more traditional Radiohead tracks like "How To Disappear Completely" and "Optimistic" offer a natural bridge between the electronic noodlings of Kid A and the (slightly) more mainstream-sounding OK Computer. Radiohead may well be the most innovative popular band since the Beatles; as such, Kid A represents the most successful evolution of a major British act since Sgt Pepper's. -Robert Burrow.

Their debut made them the new Beatles and Stones rolled into one, and Second Coming was five years in the making. Accordingly, the anticipation was immense, and when the product seemed on first listen to be a very long, very protracted Led Zeppelin guitar solo-courtesy of the excessively well-practised John Squire-The Stone Roses convincingly punctured their own myth. Nevertheless, some of Second Coming is quite good: "Breaking Into Heaven" is appealingly pompous, showing that the Roses at least had a handle on the nature of their own import, and better still, had the ability to pull it off. "Love Spreads" and "Ten Storey Love Song" are imbued with the arrogance-and thankfully the tunes-of old. And the rest? Well, if you've ever heard John Squire's next band, The Seahorses, you'll know what to expect. Seldom has the guitar solo been so accomplished, or so dull. -Louis Pattison.

Unplugged was the last collection recorded by Nirvana before the untimely death of Kurt Cobain and it caught many by surprise. As a testament to the group's live dynamic in a acoustic setting, it's a fantastic document that emphasises the nuances of one of the greatest bands of recent times. Cobain singing "I swear I don't have a gun, I don't have a gun" with clenched teeth instead of a loud howl is a revelation as is the subtle guitar playing on the haunting "About a Girl", from their earliest LP. Highlights include covers of three Meat Puppets tracks (featuring special guests Curt and Kris Kirkwood of that influential "college rock" band), the weepy cello on the Vaselines' "Jesus Doesn't Want Me for a Sunbeam" and their cover of David Bowie's "The Man Who Sold the World". -Lorry Fleming.

Maybe this music by Prince & the Revolution will never quite sound as, well, revolutionary as it did in 1984 (and nothing else has ever sounded like the extraordinary cooing and fluttering of "When Doves Cry"), but it's a pop landmark in Prince's Artistic career. The hit movie was really just a big-screen showcase for Prince to perform these songs (some of them in tear-the-roof-off "live" versions set in a Minneapolis club). It's unclear why that warped sermonette introduces "Let's Go Crazy" (one thing you've got to love about Prince: he's always been weird), but somehow it works. Other highlights include the sexual scorcher "Darling Nikki" (with its crazy backwards coda) and that anthemic title tune. Don't you miss Wendy and Lisa, too? -Jim Emerson.

You Could Have it So Much Better, the second album from Mercury Music Prize winners Franz Ferdinand is pretty much everything a band's second record should be: an assured, endearingly cocky return that builds on the strengths of its predecessor, and importantly, brings a few more tricks to the table. Beyond hipster quips and hedonism, however, Franz are busy expanding their emotional palette. "Walk Away" is a fragile indie soul piece, Alex Kapranos cooing "mascara bleeds into my eyes" over a tune reminiscent of London garage rockers The Flaming Stars (although it also features references to Mao-Tse Tung and Hitler, so don't be too quick to pin this one as a love song). Meanwhile, "Eleanor Put Your Boots On" nods to Dylan and Revolver-era Beatles, suggesting an urge to capture hearts beyond the dancefloor. All the same, though, a fabulous return. -Louis Pattison More to Explore See more music by Franz Ferdinand Play Guitar with Franz Ferdinand (Guitar Tab) Franz Ferdinand (CD) Franz Ferdinand ~ Nicholas Artsrunik (Paperback) See more Franz products.