Reviews

Six years and three albums later, FQ is still one big enigma

Eighty-three examples of Stephin Merritt's pop art from 99/2000

Well-presented, bonus-heavy reissues-if only Quo were worth it

Naturalistic take on bent policing Buenos Aires-style

A rather contrived sequel to 1999's Billy Crystal/Robert De Niro buddy comedy (Analyze This), Analyze That nonetheless has enough sporadic wit and infectious Hope/Crosby chemistry to justify its existence. Here De Niro's neurotic mobster is released from prison into the protective custody of Crystal's wisecracking shrink (don't ask). Cue some 'fish out of water' shenanigans, a Sopranos parody, and a grand heist finale.

The 1973 story of young fairground worker Jim (David Essex) making it as a pop star on the cusp of the '60s captures the very smell of small-time rock'n'roll dreaming. It ekes real pathos from the bloating of Jim's ego. Keith Moon's his drummer. In the sequel, Jim turns Lizard King, forgets his roots, shags around and gives manager Adam Faith headaches. Great.

Johnny Knoxville and his cohorts torture, humiliate and occasionally shave themselves and others in this big-screen outing for the cult TV show. Much of their wanton destruction and reckless self-endangerment you can take or leave, but the bowling ball in the bollocks induces a major wince, as does the bungee wedgie and the between-toe paper-cutting.

Raised in rural New Mexico, Dameon Lee—aka Lowlights—gravitated first towards power pop with Albuquerque combo Scared Of Chaka. In 1999, six albums later, he set about beating a more sepulchral trail of his own. Co-produced by Dustin (Rocketship) Reske, this painterly debut is a sad-slow delight. Nothing maudlin about it either. Lee's voice has an autumn-leaf warmth, carried on swirls of organ noise, understated pedal-steel and shadowed by the faint harmonies of Angela Brown.

Fifth album from prolific, acerbic British singer-songwriter

Formerly linked to the late-'90s big beat movement, Barry Ashworth's Dub Pistols have become one of the UK's leading exponents of political dubtronica. Jamaican Studio One veteran (and sometime Massive Attack collaborator) Horace Andy adds guest vocals to opening track "Sound Clash", eclipsed in the surprise stakes only by the appearance on "Problem" of former Specials frontman Terry Hall, making his first outing over a ska beat for decades. Electro, jazz, dancehall, hip hop—everything's here, mashed up in a smoky dub haze.