Reviews

Lavish two-CD repackaging for Bowie's 1993 return to form

Enjoyable, rarities-stuffed collection. Pass the talc

Exquisite Rohmer-style romantic drama

Four years before The Deer Hunter, Michael Cimino made his debut as writer and director with this macho love story, starring Clint Eastwood as a typically crusty old bank robber and Oscar-nominated Jeff Bridges as his wide-eyed and adoring young sidekick. Excellent support from George Kennedy and Geoffrey Lewis as a couple of hoods after Clint's ass (as it were).

Ridiculous documentary in praise of the gigantic ego of producer Robert Evans, 'somebody' in the '70s but a self-promoting Hollywood Del Boy now. Sure, he bankrolled great films once (The Godfather, Chinatown), but this indulgent, visually static puff-piece (chiefly composed of photos and Evans saying what a fabulous mogul and stud he is) isn't one of them.

Hal Ashby's unsatisfactory Woody Guthrie biopic from 1976 uses a shovelful of sentiment to flatten out most of the bumps in Guthrie's life, but David Carradine contributes a glorious, low-key performance as the visionary legend who travelled his country throughout the Great Depression, singing for the beat-down folk and fighting off the Fascists. The real star, though, is Haskell Wexler's radiant dustbowl cinematography.

Since big brother Steve first recruited her to sing backing on 1991's The Hard Way, Stacey Earle's gradual career curve has included two unadorned solo albums (1999's Simple Gearle and 2000's Dancin' With Them That Brung Me) before finally sharing centre stage with 'im indoors, Mark Stuart, on 2001's Must Be Live. This new offering is simply the best thing either have ever done. Stuart's classic country voice meshes with Earle's honeyed purr superbly, but it's the bold instrumentation that truly glows.

Athens, Georgia white-trash rapper's improbably fine return

Enjoyably unhinged debut from club promoters/DJs turned recording artists

No time for rest in Godspeed's Montreal enclave, as the collective's myriad spin-offs continue to fight the capitalist hegemony with sad tunes and very long titles. Mt Zion are ostensibly the pop wing, adding vocals from guitarist Efrim and—new here—a massed choir to the usual thicket of slow guitars and chamber strings. It's debatable how necessary his croak is, since Godspeed's great gift is to disseminate radical politics by musical implication rather than explicit polemic.