"I'm not worried about your state of mind, 'cause you're not the revolutionary kind," croons Ben Ottewell, Gomez's gravel-voiced singer on "Revolutionary Kind", but indeed, it's precisely this attitude that mobilises Gomez's harshest critics. Essentially, Liquid Skin is the same album as 1998's Mercury Music Prize-winning Bring It On-a potent hallucinogenic stew of Deep-Southern folk, blues, and country music played by-and here's the galling point-five white students from the North of England, graverobbing music's past without a new idea between them. There's an air of "having a laugh" that makes Gomez sometimes seem invitingly punchable, but all the same, it would be churlish to deny Liquid Skin praise for its joyfully lackadasical approach to rootsy excavation. They've even gained praise in US alt-country periodical No Depression, which is usually suspicious of outright fakery elbowing in on its genre, so there's clearly something in the plush, casual Americana of "Rhythm & Blues Alibi" and the acidic glide of "California" to endear it to the purists. -Louis Pattison.

With Inside Job, Don Henley-the Voice Of AOR-returns, proudly married-with-kids and armed with another polished state-of-the-zeitgeist summary of the moral preoccupations of his baby-boom generation. or at least its winners. This is intermittently haunted by human frailty ("Damn It Rose"), corporate culture ("Workin' It"), environmental issues ("Goodbye To A River") and lives of "too many blessings" ("My Thanksgiving"). As uniformly serious in tone as it is pristinely rockin' in intent, Inside Job is the first release in a decade from the quintessential California music industry insider, following ten years of charity work, a monster Eagles reunion and the odd legal wrangle. Sure to be respectfully and profitably received regardless, it nevertheless strives for fresh musical energy, driven by Henley's pop-rock instincts and pedigree collaborators (Stevie Wonder, Glenn Frey, sundry Tom Petty sidemen and Randy Newman, whose savage, mischievous satire is repeatedly echoed, in tamer fashion, in tracks like "They're Not Here, They're Not Coming"). Predictably, family matters loom large in the ex-hedonist's universe, with "Taking You Home" and the oddly resigned-sounding "For My Wedding" weighing in on the side of commitment and a self-loathing, witchy-woman-dissin' "Miss Ghost" in the opposite (hotel room) corner. Nevertheless, Inside Job's "lessons of humility" are more frequent than we've a right to expect of anyone whose previous band's Best Of sold 26 million copies. Even if, when Henley decries a world of "no authenticity, no sign of soul/The radio won't play George and Merle", you can't help thinking it's because radio's still playing the Eagles' "Hotel California" on continuous loop. [+]

At the top of the list of doomed cult folkies with the angelic Nick Drake, Tim Buckley built his reputation on his remarkable vocal range, sensitive, moody songwriting and refusal to compromise artistically even when it maddened and confused his most ardent fans. Happy Sad recorded in 1969 with production duties shared by the Lovin Spoonful's Jerry Yester and Zal Yanovsky, showcased what was to become an increasingly jazz tinged direction with intricate song arrangements underpinned by vibes and intricate lead guitar work. The mellow "Buzzin Fly" is the lightest moment here but Happy Sad, only six songs long, is fashioned around two centrepiece numbers, the 10 minute "Love From Room 109 At The Islander [On Pacific Coast Highway"], a darkly romantic meditation set against a backdrop of rolling breakers and the 12 minute stoned groove "Gypsy Woman" in which Buckley sets that incredible voice loose. -Mike Pattenden.

Since their internationally acclaimed debut in 1997, any album release by French duo Daft Punk is heralded with a sigh of relief as it always seems like an eternity since the last one. Four years on from Discovery, the title Human After All might give the impression that they've hung up their robot suits and dumped their vocoder in the Seine-but nothing could be further from the truth. Like its predecessor it's laden with analogue synths, robot voices and guitars but gone is the bubbly pop sensibility of Discovery, it being replaced by a darker, angrier sound from start to finish. A fine example of said anger is the first single, "Robot Rock", a hugely danceable, body poppin' groove with a funky lead melody over stabbing guitar chords. Even more aggressive is the albums most "rockin" tune, the sinister "Brainwasher"-harsh, threatening and best all, the intro sounds like a homage to Black Sabbath's "Iron Man". Like the aforementioned, most of the nine songs (and one interlude) are upbeat with the exception of "Make Love" and "Emotion", two gentler, chillout tunes that provide a good breather from the manic loops of everything else. It's been said that this album "sounds like an army of angry violent robots on the march" which is a fairly accurate description. For any Homework fans put off by the chirpiness of Discovery, the raw edge of Human. [+]

First listen, Riot City Blues-the ninth album from genre-mashing Scottish rock hedonists Primal Scream-feels like a conscious shift away from the politicised punk futurism that’s guided their output since "Swastika Eyes", harking back instead to the Southern-fried blues-rock that inspired their ill-received 1994 album Give Out But Don’t Give Up. No question, "Boogie Disease" and "Nitty Gritty" have fairly myopic horizons, beyond a desire to make what frontman Bobby Gillespie hails "that sweet, sweet, sweet rock’n’roll". Riot City, however, seldom sinks to the narcotic lulls that characterised their last foray into the Memphis swamps. Accompanied by haywire mandolin, "Country Girl" bounces along at a tempo that somehow reminds both of four-to-the-floor techno, and The Proclaimers’ "I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles)". Kevin Shields, the eccentric guitar genius that helped shape the last two Scream records, is gone, but new special guests include Will Sergeant of Echo And The Bunnymen and The Kills’ Alison Mosshart (who contributes a great guest verse to "Dolls (Come On Baby Let’s Have A Good Time)". Meanwhile, "Sometimes I Feel So Lonely" is a blissful gospel hymn to anarchy ("Everything’s permitted/Nothing’s really true") in the vein of past Scream landmark "Star". Pastiche, but fun with it. -Louis Pattison.

The last quarter-century has been nothing if not colourful for George Michael. But through all the controversy - the high-profile arrests and audacious videos, the fall-outs and band splits - he has emerged intact as a vital figure on the global pop scene - a fact compounded by his current 25 Live tour and this accompanying Greatest Hits package. Twenty Five is the fourth such collection in Michael's career, though it carries the obvious advantage of being more up to date than 1998's lauded Ladies & Gentlemen and features not only solo material but music from the early Wham! days. As such, it's the most comprehensive anthology yet, featuring upbeat Wham! classics like "Wake Me Up Before You Go Go" and "Freedom" amidst sombre solo material like "Praying For Time" and "Jesus To A Child". The collection not only includes a host of evergreen classics, but also recent singles "An Easier Affair" and "This Is Not Real Love" (with former Sugababe Mutya Buena) and two unreleased tracks. There are some notable absences from the collection – "I Want Your Sex" and "Kissing A Fool" are two glaring omissions – but it still remains the most comprehensive survey of the artist's legacy to date. -Danny McKenna.

With a title to strike fear into humble record-shop managers the world over, Steal This Album finds the anti-establishment edge of crazed American-Armenian metal dissidents System of a Down as finely honed as ever. Although the album consists mainly of offcuts from the quartet's previous album, 2001's Toxicity, it seems that System are categorically incapable of writing sub-standard material: "Innervision" and "Streamline" bristle with death-metal heaviness and thrash virtuosity, while the mighty "Boom!" proves System's doom-laden message lies at the heart of their musical agenda, spoken-word snippets about Third World starvation and nuclear paranoia sticking up like razor-sharp shards between the broiling choruses. What makes System of a Down truly peerless, however, is their skill at flipping genres in the blink of an eye. "Nuguns" boasts a solo that appears to be played on some archaic Eastern European stringed instrument, while the oddly touching "Roulette" finds vocalist Serj Tankian and guitarist Daron Malakian performing a vocal duet backed by acoustic guitar and keening violin. Too good to be dismissed as a mere rarities compilation, Steal This Album should be considered a sister record to Toxicity, or at least an excellent stop-gap before the band's next hotly-anticipated instalment -Louis Pattison.