If you can remember the '90s, you have mediocre taste in music. Subtitled "The Best Of Britpop", this double CD ties in with the John Dower documentary about that media-stoked mirage, Cool Britannia. As Blair morphs into Thatcher and everyone wonders what they saw in the Gallaghers, it's not a fruitful time to hear this listless stodge. The track listing prompts an inner sigh—Cast, Shed Seven, the supremely flaccid Embrace. No wonder it was piss-easy for The Strokes to clean up with three Blondie riffs.
Whitehouse now comprise just William Bennett and Philip Best, but the title track of what may be their finest record is a harrowing 15-minute cut-up of voices talking emotionally about child abuse, rape and murder with discreet accompaniment, assembled in Chicago by outgoing third member Peter Sotos and guest producer Steve Albini.
Terry Gilliam's solo directorial debut. Inspired by Lewis Carroll's poem, like Python's Holy Grail it deals with medieval muck and monsters—in this case a fearsome dragon to be slain by hapless hero Dennis (Michael Palin). Lots of good ideas and a very odd cast of British comedy talent, but mired in darkness, only the occasional laugh.
Set during the Ulster 'Troubles', Hidden Agenda begins admirably enough with director Ken Loach's usual muscular dissection of political realities. Then Maurice Roeves suddenly appears as a mysterious Captain (think Donald Sutherland's X in JFK) who implicates the RUC, the Tories, MI5 and the CIA in a grand, preposterous plan to ruin the Labour Party.
