One-time Tin Tin on mature and thoughtful form

Perfect '70s pop pastiche from Nashville-based singer-songwriter

Raised in rural New Mexico, Dameon Lee—aka Lowlights—gravitated first towards power pop with Albuquerque combo Scared Of Chaka. In 1999, six albums later, he set about beating a more sepulchral trail of his own. Co-produced by Dustin (Rocketship) Reske, this painterly debut is a sad-slow delight. Nothing maudlin about it either. Lee's voice has an autumn-leaf warmth, carried on swirls of organ noise, understated pedal-steel and shadowed by the faint harmonies of Angela Brown.

Since big brother Steve first recruited her to sing backing on 1991's The Hard Way, Stacey Earle's gradual career curve has included two unadorned solo albums (1999's Simple Gearle and 2000's Dancin' With Them That Brung Me) before finally sharing centre stage with 'im indoors, Mark Stuart, on 2001's Must Be Live. This new offering is simply the best thing either have ever done. Stuart's classic country voice meshes with Earle's honeyed purr superbly, but it's the bold instrumentation that truly glows.

Tonight, Dave Alvin looks like a man out to settle an old score. With his gunslinger necktie and low-slung guitar, he fires off endless streams of ballistic invective, mostly aimed at Phil, his big barrel-shaped brother and Blasters frontman. The fabled legend of Dave and Phil Alvin and the band they formed in Downey, California is straight out of the sibling rivalry rock'n'roll handbook that stretches from Don and Phil Everly all the way up to Noel and Liam Gallagher.

Following a frenetic opening, Joe Carnahan's Detroit cop movie settles into an edgy two-hander as Jason Patric's alienated undercover man returns to the streets to investigate a cop killing with the dead officer's explosive partner, Ray Liotta. It skirts cliché, but it's powered by a redemptive, almost overwhelmingly emotional current; and it's a joy finally to see Liotta in a role worthy of his talents.

Derry power punks return after 21-year absence, sans Feargal

Deeply cool 1957 musical based on the feckless chancer of the John O'Hara stories. Who else but Frank Sinatra could play the nightclub crooner who's a heel to not only Rita Hayworth but Kim Novak (both of whose singing was dubbed)? Rodgers & Hart songs, some (though not quite enough) smart-ass dialogue, and Frank in full effect.

Johnny Knoxville and his cohorts torture, humiliate and occasionally shave themselves and others in this big-screen outing for the cult TV show. Much of their wanton destruction and reckless self-endangerment you can take or leave, but the bowling ball in the bollocks induces a major wince, as does the bungee wedgie and the between-toe paper-cutting.

Lengthy adaptation of Alice Walker's Pulitzer Prize-winning novel about poor black folk in Georgia during the first half of the 20th century was Spielberg's first 'serious' film. The territory is admittedly dark (incest, domestic violence) and, despite its faults, it succeeds thanks to visual skill and a sterling cast led by Whoopi Goldberg.