Public Enemy, Power to the People and the Beats: Public Enemy's Greatest Hits (Def Jam). Not even bad reality TV can pull the punch of prime Public Enemy. Finally, after two criminally lackluster best-of packages, someone got it right. But even if this disc contained nothing more than outtakes from PE's 2002 flop, Revolverlution, it'd still be infinitely better than watching Flava Flav take a bubble bath with Brigitte Nielsen. -- Heller
Some Girls, The DNA Will Have Its Say (Three.One.G). Don't bore us; get to the chorus. Taking that old radio adage to extremes, only minus the choruses, this San Diego-based noisecore supergroup (comprising members of the Locusts and Plot to Blow Up the Eiffel Tower) serves up seven abrasive tracks in about as much time as it will take you to read this. -- Herrera
Gabin, Mr. Freedom (Astralwerks). Sure, the shiny, dance-friendly lounge fare concocted by Italy's Max Bottini and Filippo Clary is silly, but ditties such as "Into My Soul," co-starring Dee Dee Bridgewater, and the spy-happy, Edwyn Collins-crooned title track induce smiles anyway. It's the sort of camp capable of delivering fun all summer long. -- Roberts
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Acid Mothers Temple & the Cosmic Inferno, Ioa Chant (Ace Fu). One song. Fifty-two minutes. Five Japanese dudes. A pagoda full of dope. Acid Mothers Temple's tribute to the late Pierre Moerlen of Gong makes sense: Guitarist Kawabata Makoto not only played on Gong's Acid Motherhood, but he doses this disc with the same cartoonish, hallucinogenic prog. As a eulogy, it's kind of iffy. As a mindfuck, it's a masterpiece. -- Heller
The Proclaimers, Restless Soul (Persevere Records). Scotland's answer to the Everly Brothers have yet to top their rousing 1988 hit, "I'm Gonna Be (500 Miles)" -- something that won't detract from enjoying yet another collection of baroque-drenched, mid-tempo strum-alongs with accompanying church organ. It beats a cold plate of haggis and neeps, boyo. But so do a lot of things. -- La Briola
Carly Simon, Moonlight Serenade (Columbia). Seriously, I don't think there are enough aging pop stars raiding the Cole Porter songbook. I'd love to hear porn-star-turned-disco-dolly Andrea True warble "Love for Sale," or Leo Sayer belt out "My Heart Belongs to Daddy." And then I'd jump off the Chrysler Building. -- Roberts
The Greenhornes, East Grand Blues (V2 Records). Combining all the best harmonic aspects of the Byrds and Zombies with a lethal fuzz injection, Cincinnati's Greenhornes set the Waybac machine for the late '60s and the British Invasion. With enough soulful, bluesy intrigue to wipe that scowl off Eric Burdon's puss, this exceptional EP celebrates rock and roll's first true renaissance. -- La Briola