Wonderfully raw production takes none of the shine off guitars which surround Ziggy Stardust and kick his ass (second - and last, I promise - token Americanism) and vocals that sound as though they've just woken up from a 10-year coma. Possibly the loudest record to grace the top spot for quite some time (those Fog boys know how to turn things up to 11), "Where'd You Go" merges metal, glam racket pomp and slackerdom to fantastic effect. Don't go back to sleep just yet, Mr Mascis.

"Can I Tell U Stories" however sees J changing into his pyjamas and fluffing up the pillows, being an echoing and almost beautiful piano-led lullaby, its soporific appeal dented only by the fact it is just a bit too bleary-eyed and tune-lite. "Too Hard" is the soundtrack to the slumbering Mascis' dreams, a slow-tempo number featuring sandpaper bass and guitars rearing up every few seconds like nightmares. Someone obviously had a cheese sandwich before bedtime...

However, "Where'd You Go" is a fantastic wake-up call, audible and clanging out its alarm bells across the Atlantic. A weary UK rubs its eyes, turns over again, and farts out the likes of The Dum Dums instead.

Rating: 10/10

But I love him too. Foo Fighters are one of the best, most vital, least pretentious rawk bands out there, and "Breakout" is another prime cut from their damn talented rumps. It's not going to start off a new movement, nor is it going to be remembered as a classic of its time (not even with the fantastic tonsil-scraping screamy bits that give even "Monkey Wrench" a run for its money); it does however effortlessly put to shame a whole host of similar boys-with-fenders outfits, and contains almost as much energy as the Foos radiate when they play live.

"Iron And Stone" is a cover (The Obsessed) and is a megalithic metal mutha that batters its Viking-helmeted head on the gates of Hell, demanding Beelzebub come out for a bit of a barney. Fantastic, in a leather underpants kind of way. The fantastic "Learn To Fly" live from Sydney is next off the starting blocks, only however managing to win bronze due to a baffling lack of energy - at least even Grohl can't be perfect all the time.

The genius bastard.

Rating: 8/10

Live tracks on the b-side. "Brat" gobs all over Pikachu t-shirted Tokyo fans with a million mph punk onslaught, whilst "86" drives around Prague on a Harley Davidson, scaring the hippies.

Still here, still the best.

Rating: 7/10

"First Love", once you've put your jaded old cynicism back in its box, is actually rather sweet, but again it is a pretty close cousin (many times removed) from similarly-themed Britney numbers. It makes me wonder whether it's Piper herself who so desperately wants to be Billie Jo Spears, or the Man pulling the strings at Virgin records...actually, it doesn't make me wonder all that hard - I reckon the answer's pretty obvious: let's just say I don't think it's Because She Wants To.

A mix of "Something Deep Inside" follows, perhaps closer to how the song sounded before the svengalis got their hands on it, as the painful warbling make-up is removed, leaving a much fresher-faced and more natural song staring back at itself in the mirror. The video's here too, but the Man is behind the camera, forcing Billie to come over all serious R&B.

Billie, tell the Man to bugger off.

Rating: 4/10