Reviews

Seminal '80s country-punks repackaged

All the 45s from the sublime Scottish duo who briefly threatened to become part of the '80s pop circus

Lyrical roots rock from up-and-coming Virginian singer-songwriter

Striking Islamic roots album from Senegalese superstar

Debut from Cocteau Twin-championed Texan psych-pop quintet

Prolific Cornish knob-twiddler Luke Vibert returns

Lost In Translation lite

"I'm not sure if it's a comedy or a tragedy," shrugs actor Jean-Claude Brialy in Une Femme Est Une Femme, "but it's a masterpiece." Not wrong there. This hyperactive 1961 ground-breaker, even more than the mesmerising Alphaville, is everything that's wonderful about early Godard. Later, he became obsessed with semiotics, deconstructing to the point where only the fanatical could go with him. But here, in the post-Breathless era, high on success and confidence, he's brushing excess flecks of genius off his coat.

Part of the BFI's intriguing "A History Of The Avant-Garde" series, this is 66 minutes of decaying, nitrate-film archive footage, an artful collage in which figures deteriorate as we watch. Obviously, it's heavily symbolic: nuns, children, boxers go about their endeavours unaware (or are they?) of the oblivion that looms. The dissonant score's a drag, but this is nothing if not haunting.

Recorded at the LA Troubadour in 2000—and gaps like that never bode well. Though it covers moments when the band were at their defiant best—"Olympian", "For The Dead", "Fighting Fit"—it still feels like they're going through the motions. And that's a shame as Gene always had a lot more to them than their ill-deserved reputation as Britpop fops. Worth seeing for what could have been.