Eminem – Beautiful
Eminem appears to be suffering from an identity crisis. One minute he's bemoaning the commercial implosion of Michigan, the next he's singing – actually singing – about how we are all beautiful on the inside. From Rick Wagoner to Christina Aguilera in less time than it takes to remove Brüno's bum from one's face. Still, this (admittedly impeccably rhymed) load of sentimental bilge beats another rap about having sex with Mariah Carey.
Girls Can't Catch – Keep Your Head Up
Imagine Girls Aloud, minus Nicola and Sarah. Take away the matching outfits and replace with ripped leggings and denim shirts. Instead of Biology or Sound of the Underground, think GA's lacklustre recent single Can't Speak French. Scrap the word "Aloud", and replace with weird attempt at rebellious sounding name. For the music video, swap polished studio setting for a croquet match in a scrapyard (really) in an equally weird attempt at appearing edgy. But make sure you keep the record label, Polydor, the same. And, voila! You have Girls Can't Catch! Play their cards right, and these girls could be the new Saturdays.
Lightning Dust – I Knew
Those familiar with the rumbling stoner rock of Vancouver's Black Mountain will probably already know about the band members' various, wonderful side projects, of which Lightning Dust is just one. Comprising real-life couple Josh Wheddon and Amber Webber, the duo's music is characterised by a Hammond organ, chugging drum machines and the latter's formidable vibrato. It is excellent. But does the chorus – "And I Kne-ew-ew-ew" – remind anyone else of What's Going On by the 4 Non Blondes? And if so, is this a good or a bad thing?
Listen to Lightning Dust
Simian Mobile Disco – Audacity of Huge
A smarter person than me once said that hip-hop used to be one long moan, now it's just a massive boast. And this was before they heard Yeasayer's Chris Keating abandon his indie ways to indulge in a marathon session of self-praise so extreme it puts the entire rapping fraternity to shame. Thankfully, Keating's tongue is lodged firmly in cheek as he runs off a checklist of prize possessions – "I got that Mama Cass, you know I got that Peter Tosh" – while James Ford and Jas Shaw provide their faintly magic arrangement of beeps and bleeps. Next week: Keating claims he's the greatest rapper alive on the forthcoming Re-Up Gang mixtape.
Black Eyed Peas – I Gotta Feeling
Nothing, with the exception of war, famine and Peaches Geldof, depresses me quite like the Black Eyed Peas. Their flaccid rhymes, their cynical lyrics ("Mosseltov!" - yes, we too think that's all it takes for Israel to be on board), their endless pursuit of the worst party tune ever made. "Here we come, here we go, we gotta rock!" Yeah, it's another No 1! Kill me now.
