More filthy acid grunge from Cologne. The pick of the bunch is "Truth", which comes from the same lysergic mud that spawned B1 on Shark vol. 1. Scorching stuff.

Worth having for "Aquaville", a sweet downtempo track with a string sample to die for. The other tracks have some decent ideas in them, but some well dodgy ones too, and they're showing their age quite a bit. Quite representative of the Kinetix label in general - patchy and a bit confused, but they knocked out some real gems.

You can find "Aquaville" on a number of compilations as well, so it's a fairly easy find.

A cool release out of Germany by some guys you've never heard of. As you can tell from the center label, wich contains an astonishingly crap piece of artwork which looks like it was printed on the worst photocopier in town, this is a DIY release through and through. But the music is great; three entrancing, long-drawn, acidic techno jams, with a nice ambient excursion thrown in for good measure.

Finding a copy that's actally listenable is a bit of a mission, though. First of all, there's well over 20 minutes of music on each side, meaning the sound is both low in volume and shoddy in quality. And to add insult to injury, someone had the bright idea to pack the record in that horrible, horrible PVC sleeve that gradually leaves a filmy layer of residue on the vinyl. After much searching I've finally found a copy that plays semi-decent (but certainly not great), and considering the obscurity of this release and the fact that few people seem to be aware of this problem, I'd be surprised if you can find a mint copy anywhere now. What genius dreamt up the PVC sleeve, anyway? Someone needs shot.

Prefab Sprout is the best band ever and Paddy McAloon is a genius. Just in case anyone's confused. However, Paddy's supreme songsmithery is sometimes hampered by substandard/corny production, particularly when Thomas Dolby is absent. "Nightingales" is a prime example: a sublime piece of songwriting drenched in a schmaltzy 80's arrangement. There's always been an element of earnest cheese in Paddy's songs, and he usually gets away with it because he's so talented, but he's really stretching the limits here. This single offers an extended mix of the album version, and as usual in the world of pop music, "extended" means "longer, duller and with more pointless instrumental bits". As for the "demo tapes" on the B side, "Life of Surprises" is actually identical to the version which was released the year after on the "Protest Songs" album and then finally as a single in 1993 (the latter was backed with two cool FSOL remixes of "If You Don't Love Me", which make it well worth picking up). "King Of Rock 'N' Roll" - that infamous novelty song with its ridiculous video and the chorus that goes "hot dog, jumping frog, Albuquerque" - remains Prefab Sprout's biggest hit to date, a fact that McAloon himself has apparently never quite managed to get his head around. The version here is as silly and throwaway as the one that charted, yet less listenable. On to the hidden beauty on this EP: "Bearpark", which is unavailable anywhere else. It's certainly the most basic-sounding demo of the bunch, recorded on a cassette player and accompanied by the cheapest drum machine track imagineable. Says Paddy in the liner notes: "I felt like Phil Spector when I'd finished it". But somehow this unvarnished simplicity suits the song perfectly. Bearpark is a small village in County Durham in the north-east of England, close to where Paddy grew up, and this is a tribute to the place, but to me it's just a simple, bittersweet and beautiful little song about homesickness and nostalgia which really could be about anywhere. (Well, perhaps with the exception of the line "hard as nails Geordies"...) Another proof that a true gem doesn't necessarily need polishing.

I can't stop playing "Ghosten". A perfect piece of melancholic, introspective deep house. The other tracks are great as well. The kid is talented.

Oh, good grief, Queen, you fucking fossils – what are you doing in my collection? How anyone can adore this troupe, I’ve never been able to figure out – a personal low point; going back home from a messy weekend in Glasgow, only to discover that the airport express coach company, in an act of pure evil, had decided to entertain their passengers with a DVD containing one of Queen's concerts from the 80's. Meaning I had to endure Freddie’s antics and Brian May’s hair on three screens simultaneously, for 2 hours, while I was in the most wretched state imaginable. I’m not sure I’ll ever recover. And those asinine records; “Bohemian Rhapsody”, the sentimental reissue of which kept the KLF off the #1 spot in the UK singles chart in 1991 – an unbelievably tedious music-as-theatresports monstrosity which does what Queen does best: an awful lot of nothing . Or “Radio Ga Ga” – how to ruin a nice verse and a cool body-poppin’ break with a chorus that comprises all the subtle nuances of a football terrace and a West End musical. Someone still loves yoooouuuuuu? I somehow don’t think so!

And then there’s “The Show Must Go On”, the final song on the last album they released while Freddie was still with us, and the pompousness to end all pompousness, Queen at their most ridiculously grandiose – and yet, it’s their finest moment, the ONLY moment in their discography I can be bothered with. Apparently penned by May partly as a therapeutical exercise during his divorce, it becomes a hell of a lot more when Freddie sings it – barely hanging on to his life, body ravaged by disease, he nevertheless delivers an unbelievable performance – done in one take, or so the legend goes. It’s the song where Queen briefly captures something greater than itself, something truly larger than life in fact – and “I’ll top the bill, I’ll overkill” is the most perfect line that their singer ever recorded. A few months later, he was no more. Rest in peace, you lunatic. I never liked your band. But I liked you. And I love this song.

The track "The Love From Above" is a ripoff of Finitribe's classic 1995 track "Love Above", complete with Paul's signature dull-as-dishwater arrangement.

This album is best suited for people who find Steven Seagal movies too intricate. As predictable as mullets at NASCAR.

What a weird release. "Furioso" is an acid workout, and it's really rather furious indeed. It also sounds like it was recorded in a bathtub. If you liked 808 State's "Prebuild" you might enjoy this, but audiophile heaven it ain't. "Lukuta" is a Chicago-style minimal track which might work in a mix - but not for long, because it's honestly a bit dull. "Additional Elements" is by far the best tune, a quirky little "deep techno meets deep house" excursion. Not all winners, then. But at least you have three totally different tracks here, which is something rarely seen in today's techno.

The B side mixes bear an uncanny resemblance to a certain "Stella". And given Jam El Mar's habit of nicking ideas left, right and centre (remember the Supertramp piano in "Hello San Francisco"?), I wouldn't be surprised if the Jam & Spoon track was "inspired" by this record. B1 and B2 are very basic, mellow techno-trance tracks that sound pretty rudimentary nearly two decades on, but they're as charming as they come. The rest: nah, none for me, thanks.

I first encountered Hab on the splendid "The Knights Who Say Dot" compilation, and fell in love with the wistful melodies and weightless, disjointed beats of "Pan" and "Save the Adults". Granted, the combination of buoyant "IDM" rhythms and fragile keyboard motifs could easily wear thin very quickly, but to Hab's credit, he manages to sustain this sound over a whole album and make it work. A thoroughly pleasurable record with a sound all of its own.