Space and Cerys
The Ballad of Tom Jones
(Gut)

Now, devotion to Tom Jones is no bad thing. Until now, that is. Despite the Cinemascope-lite quality of the production and Cerys’ powerful growl (the next Bonnie Tyler perhaps?), the light entertainment-style lyrics undermine any chance of this being amusing past a first listen. For a while there, with the-not-really-that-bad ‘Avenging Angels’, it seemed as if Space might be moving away from their tendency toward throw-away jokiness. Unfortunately this confirms that what they really do best is make great novelty records.

Pulp
This is Hardcore
(Island)

In which Jarvis truly rediscovers his dark side. He croons ‘I want it bad, I want it oh so bad’ against a sprawling wall of sound that shifts wonderfully from distorted guitar noise to John Barry-esque orchestral manoeuvres and beyond. Pulp could teach Space a few things about producing a dark-hued epic. There’s a genuine feeling of film noir about the whole affair, which is so insidious that it takes a while to get to you. Given a few listens, and its scintillating, sparse piano, sinister strings and Cocker’s lusty growl really get under the skin. The cinematic sound paired with the knowing eroticism of the lyrics brings to mind the collaboration between Jarvis and Barry Adamson. And that can only be a good thing.

Symposium
Average Man
(Infectious)

Putting the word ‘average’ in the title of a single can only be asking for disparaging puns. But I shall resist. Crunching pop guitars and vocal harmonies abound in a song that just bounces up and down and shouts ‘We’re really young! And crazy!’ Personally, in the underage, floppy-haired boy band stakes, I think I’ll stick with Hanson. Until very recently, I had embarrassingly confused Symposium with the Stereophonics. But then I realised that the Stereophonics aren’t actually that bad.

James
Destiny Calling
(Island)

Why is it that James still exist? Just because they once inspired impressionable thirteen year olds to sit down at school discos (oh the revolution!), doesn’t mean they have any right to be hanging around like a bad smell years later. ‘Destiny Calling’ is certainly no evidence in their defence, with James proving that they can still make them like they used to (ie atrocious dirge). One small mercy is that Tim Booth’s trademark vocal whinging is kept relatively in check, until the chorus kicks in, that is. What’s more, they dare to rhyme ‘freak’ with ‘unique’, which sounds to me like a desperate attempt to ingratiate themselves with Chris Evans. Destiny calls lads: retire.

The Young Offenders
That’s Why We Lose Control
(Columbia)

Wild and crrraaazy lo-fi stomp which I want to hate. But don’t. The Young Offenders certainly seem to have all the appropriate facets to jump up and down and hit their instruments with youthful exuberance: they’re just over 20 and the track’s just over two minutes. Although they initially remind of Bis, there’s a little more to The Young Offenders than first appears. The single itself breaks into over-wrought guitars and noisy harmony towards the end, while the second track, ‘Remote Control’ has the glam rock air of David Devant And His Spirit Wife. Since the singer looks like he wandered in from a T-Rex tribute band, the comparison seems entirely appropriate. Besides there are worse things to revive than glam rock. Not that I can think of any at the moment.

Finley Quaye
Your Love Gets Sweeter
(Sony)

Finley is pure sweet indulgence and that’s all there is to it. This isn’t funky like ‘Sunday Shining’ nor does it scale the heights of ‘Even After All’. However, the sweet soul instrument that is the Quaye voice is once again put to fine use over a slightly too jaunty guitar/organ arrangement. ‘Your love..’ seems to be convinced that the sun never stopped shining. It’s not that Finley is doing anything that isn’t being frequently done elsewhere or that wasn’t being done twenty years ago. Still, as that chocolate advert says, why settle for cotton when you can have silk. Finley is that silk, and that’s why he should be forgiven for releasing something that bears a worrying resemblance to Bobby ‘Don’t Worry, Be Happy’ McFerrin.

Ultrasound
Best Wishes
(Nude)

A single which demonstrates that Ultrasound are more than just a band with a large frontman ironically named Tiny. Actually, it’s his special brand of tortured vocal histrionics that really make Ultrasound stand out. Here, rather like Geneva, they provide a mix of choir boy-style vocals and spiralling guitar noise. Unlike Geneva, the guitars get a little rougher and out of control, and there’s something rawer and altogether less spiritual in Tiny’s voice. He’s endowed with the sound of a rather more rebellious, smoking behind the sports hall kind of choirboy. Also worth checking out is the second track entitled ‘Kurt Russell’. Now why hadn’t anyone thought of that before?

Carrie
Molly
(Island)

Controversial lyrics about the joys of a woman who likes to make love to her boyfriend with a dildo might seem like ideal material for a supposedly offbeat single like this. However, any trace of originality is subsumed by an irritating tinny vocal set alongside thoroughly generic jangly guitar and Beach-Boys-esque harmonising. Carrie are stuck somewhere between Del Amitri and The Gigolo Aunts. And that’s not a good place to be.

Schoolly D / Joe Delia
The Player
(Mother Records)

Unlike Carrie, this is effortlessly kinky stuff, partly due to lyrics in which a horny Schoolly suggests that ‘all I’m looking for, baby boot, is my next erection.’ The entire enterprise oozes funk, with its wonderfully sleazy chorus, some nicely mixed scratching and R’n’B guitar. The single also includes mighty fine remixes by the Ganja Kru and Pigforce. What seems almost unbelievable is that this is the theme to the new film by the High King of scumminess, Abel Ferarra. Although ‘The Player’ is suitably sexually explicit, everyone involved sounds like they’re having far too much fun to be involved with Ferarra.

The Beta Band
The Patty Patty Sound
(Regal)

I’m not sure where to begin with this except to say that it feels unclassifiable and is quite, quite brilliant. ‘She’s The One’ is the last thing on this sprawling E.P. and the one that’s getting played on the radio. A confounding eight-minute wonder which begins with psychedelic vocals that sound like they’ve been looped, and gently strummed acoustic guitar and ends up somewhere else entirely. As the track progresses, various ideas, including what sounds like a didgeridoo and later some ridiculous Pinky and Perky-style accelerated vocals, get thrown in. What makes this so impressive is that it never becomes a drag. Eventually you learn to revel in the baggy monster quality of each track, even on the appropriately titled ‘The Monolith’ which clocks in at over 15 minutes. Go get.

Imani Coppola
Legend of a Cowgirl
(Sony)

There’s nothing particularly mind-blowing about the combination of hip hop and country and western : Beck’s been doing it for some time now. But a witty lyric that nods toward Calamity Jane, wedded with a vocal style that exudes pop sassiness makes ‘Legend’ incredibly good fun. She may be a heavenly creation of marketing, but, for now, I’m enjoying being fooled.

Money Mark
Hand in Your Head
(Mo’ Wax)

It has been too long since Money Mark graced us with his presence and thankfully, the wait is over. Despite having been over-played to within an inch of its life on Radio 1, I have yet to find ‘Hand in Your Head’ irritating. The super cool organ sound is ever-present, but this time its put to the service of a poppy tune, complete with hand claps. Nevertheless, Mark maintains the relaxed, loose tone of his previous material with a vocal so laidback that it sounds like he’s barely made it out of bed.