The Gorillaz claim to have found their motley crew of cartoon characters sleeping in Leicester Square but Blur's Damon Albarn (aka 2-D) and cult cartoonist Jamie Hewlett (Murdoc) are not fooling anyone. As the ultimate experiment in manufactured image, the Gorillaz are a virtual, cartoon-character-based hip-hop band which bring together some of the wittiest, silliest lyrics and the most seriously talented musicians. Infectious old school hip-hop rhythms, rhymes and effects courtesy of Deltron 3030's Kid Koala and Del Tha Funkee Homosapien (Russel) are combined with Albarn's passion for chugging lo-fi and edgy melodies to create a seemingly raw but ultimately slick blend of styles which is all their own. This is nowhere more evident than on hit single "Clint Eastwood", which is carried along by the sound of 2-D's slurred voice and a bluesy harmonica melody interrupted by Russel's punching rhymes. But the surprises do not stop there: Ibrahim Ferrer's appearance on "Latin Simone" could have come straight from Buena Vista Social Club but for the obvious Blur-influenced piano style, while the spooky intro to "M1 A1" wouldn't sound out of place on Michael Jackson's Thriller. Backed up by Jamie Hewlett's death-wish character on bass, Cibo Matto's Miho Hatori (Noodle) on guitar and occasional hyperactive vocals and produced by Dan "The Automator" Nakamura, it's hardly surprising that Gorillaz is marked both by a sense of playfulness and a passion for experimentation. -Caroline Butler.

As much as any other television moment of the 70s, everyone of a certain age remembers the moment they saw Ron Mael- as John Lennon put it "Hitler on the telly" - playing keyboards on Top of The Pops to a song both terrifying and glamourous called "This Town Ain't Big Enough For The Both Of Us" sung by a man with an unnaturally high voice (Ron's younger brother Russell). The song was a summation of Sparks - off-the-wall, slightly sinister but very compelling - and an excellent representation of its parent album Kimono My House. Recorded by a relocated Sparks (the Maels and new recruits), the album showcases a step up in power and commerciality, but retains the band's established weirdness, the sum total of which makes this their best album. The energetic glam power-pop gems belie a lyrical black humour - "Amateur Hour's tale of adolescent sex ("It's a lot like playing the violin/ You cannot start off and be a Yehudi Menuhin"), while "Here In Heaven" portrays Romeo's monologue in a parallel tale wherein Juliet didn't follow him into the afterlife. Now equipped with attendant B-sides (including the floor-shaking "Barbecutie"), this is an essential introduction to one of rock's best-kept secrets. -Thom Allott.

Like so many before him, the Verve's ex-frontman Richard Ashcroft is destined to be the victim of his own success. That the Verve's final album, the universally applauded Urban Hymns, with its down-tempo laments and thoughtful lyrics captured a space in time and was taken to a nation's hearts, makes it a tough act to follow, even for the man who was the creative force behind the Verve. And Richard Ashcroft's solo debut Alone With Everybody doesn't really compare at all. The thoughtful country-tinged ballads "Brave New World" and "I Get My Beat"-strummed acoustics, melancholic strings and lyrics that run like a conversation with himself-confirm Ashcroft's ability to pen a captivating melody. Meanwhile, singles "A Song For The Lovers" and "Money To Burn"-positively up-beat by his standards-may not be as emotive or touch the same nerve as Urban Hymns' "The Drugs Don't Work", "Lucky Man" or "Bitter Sweet Symphony", but they're still infectious. And the eerie atmosphere and raw edge of "New York" reassure that there's more to him than plodding, sentimental acoustic tunes. The Verve would never have pulled off an Urban Hymns Volume II, which is why their leading light has been wise not to try to either. -Dan Gennoe.

R. E. M. pushed the jangle out of the picture with Monster, replacing it with reverberating snaps, crackles, and pops. An album that wraps itself to 1970s glam finery while reaching out to the flannel-clad post-Nirvana throngs, it largely succeeds at demonstrating that these Georgians still know how to rock. The MTV fave "What's the Frequency, Kenneth?" kicks things off on a high note as Peter Buck's distorted power chords set the tone for the 12-song set. "Strange Currencies" may be alarmingly reminiscent of the Automatic for the People hit "Everybody Hurts," but it's actually the superior song. "Let Me In" is a heavily distorted nod to the fallen Kurt Cobain. While Monster is far from R. E. [+]

The much anticipated follow-up to Paul Thomas Anderson's Boogie Nights, Magnolia features a specially orchestrated soundtrack, largely written and performed by Aimee Mann ('Til Tuesday member and sadly overlooked solo artist). Mann's voice has always been a suitable vehicle for conveying emotional turmoil and indelible sadness, and several tracks here ("Build That Wall", "You Do", "Driving Sideways") do so with the rich melodicism that informs her best work. Producer Jon Brion's sprightly horn arrangements for "Momentum" are an unexpected (though not completely unwelcome) splash of cold water. Only Mann's cover of the Harry Nilsson-penned Three Dog Night hit "One" backfires, as it simply doesn't deliver the same effective climax as the original. The two Supertramp tracks from their Breakfast in America LP tacked on at album's end are incongruous; but for anyone with an interest in Mann's melodic song writing, there are eight worthy originals waiting for you. -Rob O'Connor.

An eerie dispatch from the furthest reaches of Bowie's cocaine paranoia, Station To Station has not become easier to listen to with the passing years. At this stage, Bowie was wrapped up in his peculiar-even by his standards-Thin White Duke period, which revolved largely around dressing like a fugitive war criminal and not blinking, at least not in public. Appropriate to such a detached, deranged persona, Bowie set about making what was effectively a soul record devoid of any soul whatsoever. He did it, as well. Station To Station spawned one lingering hit, in "Golden Years", but the album was littered with malevolent miracles. Bowie crooned like a replica Sinatra on "Word on A Wing" and "Wild is the Wind" and may have single-handedly invented the New Romantic movement with "TVC15". He sounds throughout on the verge of cackling dementedly and wandering off into the night; Station To Station is an absorbing postcard from somewhere you're kind of glad you haven't been. -Andrew Mueller.

One of the greatest and most underrated electro-pop acts of the 1980s, Erasure seem to have let slip the crown of pop greatness with recent albums-so Hits!, an updated "Very Best Of", is more than welcome, lest we forget how fantastic they once were. Oddly, although Vince and Andy have easily released enough singles by now for a double-CD compilation, Hits has been pared down to a single CD, presumably to appeal to mainstream nostalgia-obsessed audiences. If that's the case, however, the choice of tracks is an odd one, as some of their best singles-such as "Who Needs Love Like That", "The Circus" and "Drama!"-have been overlooked in favour of lesser but more recent "hits" such as the anaemic "Freedom" and their recent "Solsbury Hill" cover. It's not all bad, of course-the first two-thirds of the album does exactly what it says on the tin, providing quality pop for the best part of an hour-but, overall, this is a disappointingly unnecessary compilation; those in search of a quality Erasure best-of would be far better off investing in 1992's Pop! The First 20 Hits. -Rikki Price.

One of rock's most overlooked masterpieces, this third album by the L. A. folk-rock outfit led by inscrutable singer-songwriter Arthur Lee sounds as fresh and innovative today as it did upon its original release in 1968. With David Angel's atmospheric string and horn arrangements giving the work a conceptual underpinning, Lee explores mainstream America's penchant for paranoia ("The Red Telephone") and violence ("A House is Not a Motel") with songs that are as sonically subtle and lilting as they are lyrically blunt and harrowing. Add two gems by Love's secret weapon, second guitarist Bryan Maclean ("Alone Again Or" and "Old Man") and you've got one of the truly perfect albums in rock history. -Billy Altman.