A quintessential 1980s pop artifact, Madonna's third album was a huge musical leap forward and ranks with Like a Prayer and Ray of Light in the top echelon of her works. Only the title track (a bit too obviously a 60s girl-group homage) and the fine-but-nothing-special "Jimmy Jimmy" slightly lower the quality bar. Most of the songs share a jittery dance-pop sound, edgy, distracted, and nerve- jangling but simultaneously invigorating and exhilarating and almost dangerously giddy-a perfect soundtrack for the mid-1980s. Highlights include the hedonist's credo of "Where's the Party", the subtle and pretty Latin pastiche "La Isla Bonita", and, towering above all, three stunning mega-hits. "Papa Don't Preach", with its gorgeous pseudo-classical strings intro, is a sumptuous airwaves banquet, as Madonna wrestles with the have-the-baby-or-give-it-up dilemma (abortion's not in the picture) in newly gritty tones. "Open Your Heart"'s marriage of jitter-pop and wistful melody underscores the singer's yearning but forceful stance ("You better open your heart to me, buster"). And "Live to Tell" is a riveting ballad, lushly melodic yet spare and haunting-a place, as the song says, where beauty lives. -Ken Barnes.

Four-year career hiatuses followed by sprawling double-albums could spell trouble for a band of the Chili Peppers' stature: consider they'd originally recorded enough for three discs. The restless, trouble-plagued outfit that helped break alternative rock into the mainstream with a potent fusion of punk 'n' funk in the '80s finds itself two decades on almost completely devoid of the former's energetic abandon, while the latter's effusive rhythms are considerably subdued over the course of this two-hour, 28-track collection. It's not so much that the Peppers have lost their muscular, often uber-macho edge as they have willfully tamed it in service of mature reinvention here. The mellower, often introspective, if no less potent pop ethos that characterized the crossover hit "Under the Bridge" blossoms fully here on tracks like disc one's "Snow," "Wet Sand," and the jazz-cool of "Hey. " The title track, "Desecration Smile," and "She Looks To Me" finds them venturing further into laid back pop ballad territory, while the tricky rhythms of "Dani California," "Charlie," and "So Much I" eventually kick into familiar top gear on the pop-savvy "Tell Me Baby" and hip-hop seasoned "Storm in a Teacup. " It's not that there's a paucity of musical adventure here ("If" and "Animal Bar" finds them wafting into Floydish neo-psychedelia while "Make You Feel Better" seems to channel no less than Joe Jackson) but that it's delivered with a subtlety-and dare we say it?-tasteful musical restraint that's a stark contrast to the band's early, overly overt nature. There's perhaps too much mid-tempo simmering and reflection going on; like most double-albums it could be focused into a much more compelling single disc. But that seems largely beside the Peppers' hooks-over-histrionics point here: an unlikely record to kick back to, and one that both challenges assumptions and eases the band into middle age with an oft languorous, if undeniably savory groove. -Jerry McCulley.

That these two furnace-tonsilled brothers from Leith, Scotland remain almost uniquely celebrated for a pair of songs from the tail end of the 80s is, on one hand, a tribute to the undimmed magnificence of said songs-"I'm Gonna Be (500 Miles)" especially verges on national anthem status, still holding court everywhere from wedding discos, student radio, Match of the Day backdrops and drunken sing-alongs home from the pub. But on the other that simply disregards the sturdy trunk of work they've built up since. A revitalised Proclaimers have in recent years been creeping up on festival crowds hanging about waiting for the hits, and unexpectedly enthralling them with hand-chiselled choruses and wild, windswept gusto-seventh album Life with You is accordingly the perfect accompaniment to more familiar distractions. Throughout 13 muscular tracks they strike Motown, folk, blues and rock `n' roll sparks into heartfelt, melodic pop blazes bellowed by that deliciously thick Scottish brogue. "Here It Comes Again" is a frenzied highlight, bouncing off the walls like a yo-yoing Joe Cocker cameo in The Commitments, and "In Recognition" and "Whole Wide World" are true anthems both, building from that familiar muted acoustic foundation, the former illustrating the clawing wit that sometimes pervades their writing and the latter an adorable chest-beating love song. The Proclaimers are very much still walking. -James Berry.

This album, with which the singer reached his commercial peak, reflects Chris Rea's love/hate relationship with the car. The title track is famously inspired by Rea's experiences of the M25, but this is not a simple tract on the evils of the automobile-in 1988, he bought himself a racing car. His vision of hell is the traffic jam that stops you from using all that expensive acceleration. In this sense Chris Rea-the epitome of maturity compared to most in his business-shows himself still very much a rock star. The Road To Hell, despite the melancholy piano riff of the song itself and its Leonard Cohen-ish lyrics, is an optimistic album with a warm, embracing sound. This album is graced with some of Rea's finest creations: the spacey "Daytona", the topicality of "You Must Be Evil" and the catchy "That's What They Always Say". "Texas" is another witty commentary on the need for speed, and like many of the tracks on this disc it has the mellow groove that Rea has made his own. On The Road To Hell, Rea successfully marries the philosophy of the family man with the ethos of a rock star, in a way that many other forty-something crooners can only envy. He also marries a measure of self- expression with real commercial success: his first number one album, The Road To Hell went triple-platinum. -James Swift.

The multi-platinum success of Aja made Steely Dan, the musical conceit of Walter Becker and Donald Fagen, a household name. But that prosperity came bundled with a fateful triple-whammy for rock's dyspeptic duo: unrealistic commercial expectations, a critical backlash spawned by punk's nascent mewling, and the long-simmering meltdown of their artistic partnership. But the cool, perfect sheen of 1980's Gaucho tipped its hand to none of it. Ironically, those fashion victims who sniffed up their sleeves at Don and Walt's decadence-tinged Me Decade manifesto couldn't have had a clue that just maybe their songs' typically oblique protagonists had uncomfortably blurred from the third person to the first this time around. At least that's what Becker and Fagen hint at in their typically smart-assed notes to this digitally remastered, definitive edition (all original artwork and printed lyrics restored) of the final album before their 20-year hiatus. Pristine and sonically polished (three years and seven studios worth), time has served Gauchowell-like sour grapes well. Even its sense of laconic detachment now seems but a logical bridge to the two-decade removed Dan of Two Against Nature. To their credit, Becker and Fagen didn't trash the first half of Steely Dan's legacy on Gaucho, they simply burnished it to oblivion. -Jerry McCulley.

If merry Liverpudlians the Zutons really do have aspirations to marry Talking Heads with Sly and the Family Stone they fail miserably on Who Killed the Zutons?. There's a riot going on this debut album, but there's no bloodshed, just a mobbish custard pie confrontation between differing factions of pop history. Putting gimmickry to the fore, the Zutons start the album with their Monkees-styled theme tune "Zuton Fever", which could well be a cartoon voodoo version of Echo and the Bunnymen. Then the fun begins: obvious touchstones are the British invasion R&B of the Spencer Davis Group and the Animals (stompers such "Long Time Coming" and "You Will You Won't" are convincing vintage soul fakes) coupled with that awkward evolutionary blip in the 60s when white soulboys went psychedelic (see Zoot Money and Dantalion's Chariot). Add on some ghoulish surf guitars and creepy stuff about zombies, food poisoning and tropical diseases to keep fans of the Cramps happy and then append with the cheapest toy sax in rock since Laura Logic's punk parpings with X-Ray Spex. It works. Even so, the melancholic moments are the best, among them the Kinks-tinted, rainy-day ennui of "Not a Lot to Do" and the cruel-to-be-kind kiss-off of "Confusion" ("from day one, I led you on"). -Kevin Maidment.

They're not from Alabama, and there's many, many more than three of them. In fact, Exile On Coldharbour Lane is the product of a warped gang of Scottish DJs, reformed junkies and sideshow entertainers. Don't be cynical, though-they've had a calling; the Alabama 3 gospel embraces Deep Southern Christian fundamentalism, revolutionary Marxism, serious drug abuse and the loved-up embrace of acid house music. Exile On Coldharbour Lane, however artificial, is a thoroughly enjoyable cabaret record. With titles like "Bourgeoisie Blues", "Mao Tse Tung Said" and let's not forget "Hypo Full Of Love (The 12 Step Plan)", Alabama 3 have created a peculiar fusion of country, techno, and hip-hop, and somehow made it funny. There's even time to fit in "Speed Of The Sound Of Loneliness"-a traditional American folk number, performed with po-faced aplomb. You'll consider converting. -Louis Pattison.

Until his untimely death, Jim Croce was a force to be reckoned with on radio playlists. Photographs & Memories repackages some of his best work. Romantic acoustic-oriented songs were his hallmark, and songs like "Time in a Bottle," were huge hits because of their easy sentimentality. "I Got a Name" was the singer as well-worn folk traveler, while "Bad, Bad Leroy Brown" and even "You Don't Mess Around with Jim" followed standard boogie chord progressions, albeit with Croce's softer rock feel. There wasn't much really separating the overt emotions of "I'll Have to Say I Love You in a Song" and "Operator" from his sap-dripping contemporaries, but there was just enough of an edge in Croce's warm voice to elevate his love songs to another level. Like a, oh, moderately priced wine, Croce remains a classic-accessible, affordable, and easy to enjoy. - Steve Gdula.