Follow The Sound
Mascott

Where would indie music be without the third Velvet Underground album? That album's simple charm has been the template for an army of pale and sensitive bedsit romantics with guitars for as long as I can remember. The latest to step into the sunlight is Mascott - aka Kendall Jane Meade - whose pretty tunes and wide-eyed, sweet voice sound like Suzanne Vega and Sarah Cracknell getting together to swap stories about boys. The subtle production (mostly by Jim O'Rourke) adds just enough shine to lift it above your average lo-fi acoustic indie music into the realm of more sophisticated pop without sacrificing any of the intimate warmth that makes it sound as if she was singing these songs sitting at the end of your bed. She will charm the pants off you. [Mascott Music]

Nude Dimensions 2
Various Artists
(mixed by Mauricio Aviles)

Every record that Naked Music puts out just oozes class like the richest, sweetest honey and makes me want to take all my clothes off and cover myself with it's luscious warmth... sorry about that, got a bit carried away there. On a mission to put some heart and soul back into dance music, their latest DJ mix seamlessly melds together a sophisticated Deep House sound that's as sexy as rubbing yourself up against a nubile young lady on the dancefloor. Dressed up with rubbery bass lines, sultry vocals and slinky grooves that seduce more than they slam, this is perfect for getting your thang on either vertically or horizontally. Music for your feet, your hips, your soul, and your naughty bits.

Felt Mountain
Goldfrapp

More moody, depressed Europeans crushed by the weight of love and life against a backdrop of electronics and old movie soundtracks. No, it's not Portishead, it's Alison Goldfrapp (and if I had a surname like Goldfrapp I'd be pretty cheesed off too) who paints a similar icy landscape. If Ennio Morricone and John Barry ever wrote the music for a German Expressionist movie it might sound like this - sweeping strings, discordant synthesizers and the menacing air of Brechtian cabaret. Ms. Goldfrapp croons seductively and occasionally puts on her sequined dress and conjures up the spirit of Shirley Bassey with songs like the brassy "Human" which sounds like the sort of James Bond theme you'd get if Ingmar Bergman was the director. She gets an extra half a star for whistling on a couple of tracks, you just don't hear enough whistling on records these days.