Reviews

Tenth album from actor, singer and one-time Mr Julia Roberts

Imagine you're combing the racks of your favourite cool record store, one of those sub-High Fidelity dives with a coupla snooty geeks behind the counter and some Sun Ra covers on the wall. You're flipping through the '80s Hardcore section, looking for an ancient Millions Of Dead Cops LP, swimming in Raymond Pettibon graphics, when all of a sudden... What's this? The Finger's We Are Fuck You/Punk's Dead Let's Fuck? Who? What? Musta come from some boondock town in one of the "vowel states"—Ohio or Iowa.

Classy reissues from '70s songsmith

Exceptional lost album echoing bittersweet mid-period Beach Boys

Afghans' odyssey puts the asylum-seeker problem into human context

Steve Buscemi's 1996 writing/directing debut, by turns subtly hilarious and desperately sad, is a scruffy, rambling tour of barfly life, wherein his shiftless mechanic becomes an ice cream salesman and romances a much-too-young-for-him Chloe Sevigny. The tagline—"One man's search for... who knows what"—perfectly captures its loaded small-town shrug. Bruisingly good.

Usual Suspects writer Christopher McQuarrie makes his directorial debut with this hip crime caper, with Ryan Phillippe and Benicio Del Toro as two petty criminals who kidnap Juliette Lewis, a pregnant surrogate mother, unaware that the baby she's carrying belongs to mob boss Scott Wilson. Needless to say, the bullets barely stop flying in this slick, violent thriller.

Tim Robbins is Jacob, a Vietnam Vet trying to adjust to civilian life in New York but suffering from horrific, nightmarish visions. The after-effects of a military drug experiment, or something more sinister and supernatural? Even if Adrian Lyne's film makes a lot of confused choices, it's still an interesting—and genuinely scary—ride.

Full-throttle rock'n'soul mini album. From Detroit, obviously

Absorbing countercultural rap