Quincy Jones: "From Quincy With Love" (Quest/Warner Brothers)

Bewilderingly beautiful: there's really no better way to describe this remarkable collection of love songs, which reminds us how magnificent a performer, producer, conductor and arranger Quincy Jones is. But then the man sure has paid his musical dues, and it shows on this double CD. The Shadow Of Your Smile, sung by Sinatra, backed by Count Basie and arranged in just 24 hours for Sinatra's 1965 stint at the Sands Hotel in Vegas, is glorious. Jump from there to some tracks with Michael Jackson, including The Lady In My Life and Liberian Girl - whatever about the vocalist, Quincy's arrangements still glisten like gold. Add tracks from George Benson, Aretha Franklin and James Ingram, then top them all with Quincy's own tunes from albums like The Dude and Q's Jook Joint, and its a killer combination.

By Joe Jackson

Liz Phair: "White chocolate space egg" (Capitol)

Five years after her debut album, Exile In Guyville, Liz Phair is still going on about eggs. Back then, in the song Mesmerising, she caught people's attention with: "He tossed the egg up and I found my hands in place, boy". Now she kicks off with the relatively nondescript White Chocolate Space Egg. As ever, Phair delivers a blend of propulsive rock-stomps in traditional singer-songwriter mode. The songs become confessional when she switches gender and sings as a male, as in Only Son. Even more intriguing is the well-titled but musically tedious Ride: "Under your skirt/I'm digging in/Well, I don't know/But I've been told/The road to heaven is paved with gold/And if I died before I wake/I need a ride from you". As for titles such as Shitloads Of Money, someone should tell Liz that what might have been provocative in 1994 now seems like old hat: a little like this album.

By Joe Jackson

Stereophonics: "Performance And Cocktails" (V2)

This Welsh trio has have grabbed the emotional baton from the Manic Street Preachers and brought it from desolation row down a grittier, rock-solid path. Kelly Jones wants everyone to share his concerns, and songs such as Just Looking, Half The Lies You Tell Ain't True and I Stopped To Fill My Car Up are designed to be chanted from the terraces at this summer's big festivals. Jones's gravelly voice sometimes sounds genuinely heartrending, and sometimes sounds like an existential Donald Duck; most of the time, however, he comes across as a blue-collar larynx-mangler, rolling up his sleeves and getting down to the dirty vocal work; and some of the songs wheeze like bellows in an effort to keep the rock'n'roll flame burning.

By Kevin Courtney