Seven years passed between the release of Bone Machine and Mule Variations. During that time Tom Waits eschewed cutting another "conventional" (the term used loosely here) song collection, occupying his time with acting projects, a soundtrack (Night on Earth), a stage project (The Black Rider), and sundry smaller diversions. What's surprising about Mule Variations is how little he's strayed from the old Bone yard through the years. As with his Grammy-winning 1992 outing, Waits intersperses the tough and the tender, mixing exercises in creative noisemaking with tunes that fall on just the right side of maudlin. As with Bone Machine's "The Ocean Doesn't Want Me", "What's He Building?" is an experiment in word jazz that owes a debt to its creator, Ken Nordine. Waits has again assembled a crew of attuned sidemen (including Primus and steadfast backers Ralph Carney, Larry Taylor, and Joe Gore). And, as always, Waits and his wife-co-songwriter-co-producer Kathleen Brennan exhibit an uncanny ear for the arcane. In the end, Mule Variations is the aural equivalent of a salvage shop that, while largely familiar, still has a few secluded chambers and trap doors. -Steven Stolder.

Despite having possibly the worst cover art in recorded history, this album spent an extraordinary 15 weeks at the top of the US charts, making the Australian five-piece the most unlikely success story of 1982. For a time, Australians abroad seemed destined to have "Down Under" sung at them-often by whole groups of strangers-as if it were a sunny gesture of greeting or camaraderie, instead of what it actually was: a tacit reinforcement of cultural stereotypes. Like Sting, Colin Hay's vocal inflections were more suited to reggae than to white guitar-pop; the band, meanwhile, seemed to aim for much the same kind of earnest, slightly arch tone as early XTC. And though the most famous track here has aged about as well as any other novelty song you care to name, others (notably "Who Can It Be Now", driven by Greg Ham's sax) have fared slightly better. Oh, and for the record: to "chunder" means to vomit. And a Vegemite sandwich is nothing you'd want to eat. -Andrew McGuire.

After several flops, Good Morning, Vietnam was the movie that turned Robin Williams from the popular alien of TV's Mork and Mindy into a cinema superstar. Applying a comic touch to the Vietnam conflict in the tradition of M*A*S*H and its treatment of the Korean War, the movie capitalised on Williams's fast-talking improvisation and mimicry by casting him as a madcap DJ. In a novel twist which predates Reservoir Dogs soundtrack dialogue extracts by five years, the album is presented as an Adrian Cronauer radio show, mixing seven clips of Williams's brilliant monologues with a dozen classic tracks which collectively define the era. From "Nowhere To Run" by Martha Reeves & the Vandellas, through Beach Boys' "The Warmth Of The Sun" and "I Get Around", "Sugar And Spice" by The Searchers and "Game Of Love" by Wayne Fontana & The Mindbenders, 60s pop was rarely better than this. Topping-up the veritable jukebox of essential tracks is "I Got You (I Feel Good)" by James Brown and "Baby Please Don't Go" by Them, while rounding off the set is Louis Armstrong's "What a Wonderful World". One of the best pop soundtracks since American Graffiti, this anthology wouldn't be bettered until Forest Gump. -Gary S. Dalkin Nineteen eighty-seven's Good Morning, Vietnam was a turning point for Robin Williams, garnering the comic his first Academy Award nomination and leveraging him into the first rank of American film stars. As directed by Barry Levinson, Williams imbues the "true life" story of Armed Forces Radio rebel Adrian Cronauer with his patented machine-gun comic banter, undercut by dollops of now equally familiar tragi-comic bathos. But contrary to the tired hit parade we've come to expect from period soundtracks, the '60s music Williams's character spins here is often a refreshing surprise, drawing from trashy garage-band chic ("Liar Liar" by the Castaways), underexposed British Invasion hits (the Searchers' "Sugar and Spice," "Game of Love" by Wayne Fontana and the Mindbenders), and relatively obscure American chart hits ("Five O'Clock World" by the Vogues, the Rivieras' "Warm California Sun"), all of it gratuitously punctuated by Williams's manic DJ rantings. [+]

On The New Fellas, Wakefield brothers The Cribs come on like Pavement if they'd been born in Northern England, raised on caffeine and cigarettes, and spat out into the world with a song in their hearts. And, it would seem, a chip on their shoulders: listen to the opening "Hey Scenesters!", a rowdy take-down of trend-chasers that sees frontman Gary Jarman sneering "Did you see his clothes?/ Everyone said he looked like a mess, yeah…" over some neat, choppy New York punk guitar strokes. In all honesty, The Cribs aren't light years from the current rock hierarchy: the likes of "Mirror Kissers" and "We Can No Longer Cheat You" barrel along in a neat simulation of The Strokes' metronomic rhythm and stabbing guitar lines - although there's no faulting those broad accents. What they do have, however, is an endearingly caustic wit that elevates them above many of their straight-faced peers. Who knows, though - the hipsters might just hear a line like "Take drugs!/Don't sleep!/ Have contempt for those who read!" and miss the irony altogether. -Louis Pattison.

Paul Young was the nexus at which British blue-eyed soul met 1980s synth-pop production. The result was a string of glorious hits, including the chart-topper, "Every Time You Go Away". Young was most convincing as a covers artist: his supple tenor, aided by smart, up-to-date arrangements, revived such worthy tracks as the Chi-Lites' "Oh Girl" and Marvin Gaye's "Wherever I Lay My Hat (That's My Home)". From Time to Time contains a good cross-section of Young's work, plus several new tracks, including a version of Joni Mitchell's "Both Sides Now" performed with Clannad and the international smash "Senza Una Donna", featuring Italian superstar Zucchero. -Daniel Durchholz Paul Young was the nexus at which British blue-eyed soul met '80s synth pop production. The result was a string of glorious hits, including the chart-topper, "Every Time You Go Away. " Young was most convincing as a covers artist. His supple tenor, aided by smart, up-to-date arrangements, revived such worthy tracks as the Chi-Lites' "Oh Girl" and Marvin Gaye's "Wherever I Lay My Hat (That's My Home). " From Time to Time contains a good cross-section of Young's work, plus several new tracks, including a version of Joni Mitchell's "Both Sides Now" performed with Clannad and the international smash "Senza Una Donna," featuring Italian superstar Zucchero. -Daniel Durchholz.