Reviews

For a man so steeped in the honeyed hickory grit of Gram Parsons, newcomers to Bruntnell could be forgiven for mistaking his English 'burb origins for Bakersfield, Ca. New Zealand-born, Surrey-raised and westward soul-bound, he finally drew acclaim with 2000's superb third LP, Normal For Bridgwater. Its follow-up is equally fine, studded with guitars (courtesy of 21-year-old James Walbourne and Son Volt's Eric Heywood), faint washes of piano, peals of steel and a forlorn, imagistic delivery and way around a melody reminiscent of Joe Pernice.

Kristin Hersh

Thirty years on, Memphis giant releases sophomore solo album

Full-length debut from Louisville lo-fi trio

Promisingly dazed US singer-songwriter

Unmissable reissue of No Wave don's two 1979 albums on one CD

Deep baroque pop from '60s stalwarts and psych-pop from Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da Glaswegians

Much lamented Irish guitar hero's roots exposed

Marvel strikes cinematic gold again with dark and exuberant superhero blockbuster No 3

A polite, prissy take on Wilde which seems to think he wrote for children. Rupert Everett and Colin Firth are there, of course, as a playboy and a country mouse, both posing as "Earnest" while ducking scenery-munching from the tragically overrated Judi Dench and, in the token Gwyneth role, Reese Witherspoon. Muffs every joke as lamely as a fifth-form production.