Recorded last December at the end of the 2003 world tour, it's spooky watching Gary Brooker singing "A Whiter Shade Of Pale" so many years after it scored 1967's summer of love. Yet his voice hasn't altered one iota. A third of the 21 tracks come from their 2003 album, The Well's On Fire. But it's old favourites like "Homburg", "Shine On Brightly" and "A Salty Dog" that command all the attention.
The late Tom Dowd's influence on music is legendary. As an engineer, he invented the eight-track recorder. As Atlantic Records' in-house producer, he worked with Dizzy Gillespie and Ornette Coleman before helping Aretha Franklin, Dusty Springfield, The Allman Brothers and Ray Charles. His life is traced here through interviews with Dowd himself, Charles, Franklin, Ahmet Ertegun and Eric Clapton, and through fine archive footage and recordings, Inspiring.
Compilation of live concert footage, TV clips and Marky Ramone's on-the-road video footage from 1979-2002 misses the Ramones' prime. Marky's films are mundane trivia with little character insight. MTV news clips tell the story of Dee Dee's drug addiction and departure only in passing, but alongside their tearful Rock'n'Roll Hall Of Fame induction, the impressive live footage shows why they outlasted their peers.
Stats show that Middle America's "mass moral outrage" at Janet's Superbowl boob-bearing came from a noisy couple of hundred. Her career may survive, then, though no thanks to this year's scrappy LP Damita Jo. This gathers all the videos from the last four, the best of which is "That's The Way Love Goes", where she maximises her feline moves, timid voice, and gorgeous loping grooves. But she's definitely in decline.
Though Ween spent over a decade growing into one of America's biggest cult bands, renowned for a live show of bad taste and dizzying chaos, this is a curiously tame, professional fair. Brothers Dean and Gene blow through a lengthy 26-song set with flawless musicianship, but with the passion of a band who know they are knocking on and that the juvenile japes are wearing thin. One for Ween devotees.
Recorded in March, this is the same stylish stage show that Sparks brought to London earlier this year. Built around the Li'l Beethoven set, you also get a big helping of bonus tracks from that beguiling back catalogue, including the scarily prescient "The Calm Before The Storm". The motorik medley of "The Number One Song In Heaven" and "Never Turn Your Back On Mother Earth" takes some beating.
Now that Oasis have been written into British rock history alongside The Beatles, The Sex Pistols and all those other elder statesmen they so publicly admired and absorbed, 1984's Definitely Maybe survives as a revered, although sometimes distant, memory. These days when Oasis play Glastonbury, there are waves of excitement but no huge hullabaloo about their perfunctory parade of greatest hits, and their albums have ceased to generate the expectation, the queues around the block in Oxford Street, that was once the norm.
Talk about narrow fucking escapes. Halfway through one of the interviews with Brian De Palma that make up the raft of extras on this special edition of his lavish gangster epic, the director mentions that Paramount's first choice for the central part of Eliot Ness was Mel Gibson. It's an appalling thought. I mean, imagine Mel hamming it up here, his narcissistic gurning turning De Palma's operatic vision into mugging farce. Fortunately, Mel had other commitments, and the role of Ness, as De Palma had always intended, went to the then relatively unknown Kevin Costner.
After falling out with Tarantino over the credits for Pulp Fiction, Roger Avary made this violent Paris-set heist movie in a bid to establish his creative autonomy. It was hammered by critics, who dubbed it "Reservoir Frogs" and dismissed Avary as derivative. Zoe's better than its reputation suggests, though, and has the added pleasure of Jean-Hugues Anglade going spectacularly bonkers as a smack-shooting gang leader.
Since 24, the world's somehow overlooked Steven Bochco's ice-breaking 23-part epic series (here on six discs), which traced the ricocheting ramifications of a Hollywood murder trial in obsessive detail, locking us into addictive characters with exquisite week-on-week suspense. Daniel Benzali is the snidey-but-good lawyer, Stanley Tucci the reptilian suspect millionaire. It still ensnares you. Good as it gets.
