Dazzling third solo album on border of post-rock and electronica from ex-Fridge magnate Kieran Hebden

No self-disrespecting finger-snapping swinger should be without the music to Clooney's clever directorial debut. Suave as the fella himself, it kicks off with a song written by the movie's hero, Chuck Barris—or at least he claims he wrote it. Of course, he claims a lot of things. His shining pop moment, "Palisades Park" by Freddie "Boom Boom" Cannon, is as kitsch as the night is long.

Early-'90s flavour-of-year follows up multi-million-selling solo debut

First four albums by "crazy motherfucker" turned film star remastered and reissued

Career overview of Britain's most famous white female blues singer (1944-1990)

Annual indie works outing annexed by electronica massive

Touching memoir of Chinese Cultural Revolution

Director Metin Hüseyin's breezy adaptation of Meera Syal's terrific fictionalised memoir about growing up Anglo-Asian in the West Midlands in the early '70s suffers a little from British film's TV smallness, feeling at times like an extended episode of Goodness Gracious Me. But the crisp script and immense charm of 14-year-old newcomer Chandeep Uppal as the sassy prepubescent heroine Meena bring Syal's rites-of-passage story to life.

First issued on video in 1985, this is a fully absorbing, occasionally revealing insight into the country legend's late '60s heyday. A fly-on-the-wall documentary charting a typically grinding US tour, Cash is never less than engrossing, be it gleefully jamming with a nonchalant Dylan (a searing version of Billy Edd Wheeler's "Blistered"), duetting with 'er indoors June Carter ("Jackson") or cutting rug with lead guitarist Carl Perkins ("Blue Suede Shoes").

Neil Labute adapts an AS Byatt novel and rather blots his edgy image. It follows Gwyneth Paltrow and Aaron Eckhart through Yorkshire and Paris as they uncover the personal secrets of a late-Victorian poet. Labute's emasculated in the company of academics, and the overall tone's uncertain and vague.