THE CORAL, Nightfreaks and the Sons of Becker (Deltasonic)
Recorded to tide a hungry public over until the release of their third album proper, the Coral's limited-edition, low-priced, half-hour escapade wears its influences on its sleeve, from the Beach Boys to the Beatles and the folkier end of early Seventies Pink Floyd. Laid down in a week in North Wales, it has tons of light and shade, plenty of contrasting styles. Opener 'Precious Eyes' comes on like a pared Supergrass then goes as lush as the Bees, with Sixties vocal harmonies for the chorus. The mid-Seventies come alive again in the funky, naked electric guitar of 'Venom Cable' which has a charmingly out-of-tune vintage organ on the middle eight. 'I Forgot My Name' sounds like the Animals or Them before it descends into Mothers of Invention-style organised chaos. Then there's the folk whimsy of 'Song of the Corn'. The trademark shifts in time signature are omnipresent, too; the dark, echoing drums of the verses of 'Keep Me Company', for instance, are replaced by a near waltz in the sunnier chorus. Good fun, plenty of memorable tunes, a nice peek into someone else's sketchpad.

LHASA, The Living Road (Tôt ou Tard)
Like her first album, La Llorona (which was a success in Canada, the United States and France but barely raised a peep here), Lhasa de Sela's second is a strange hybrid. Brought up in Quebec by a Mexican father and an American mother, she frequently crossed and recrossed the border between the States and Mexico as a child; accordingly, she sings in three languages, her texts translated for the benefit of the listener. Her accompaniment takes a leaf out of the traditions of the chanson française (or at least Jacques Brel) by appropriating the percussion and upright bass of jazz and marrying it with guitar, strings and woodwind for music on the cusp between cabaret and flamenco. There are some charmers among the dozen numbers here. 'Con Toda Palabra', 'La Marée Haute' and 'Abro la Ventana' are solemn, smouldering songs of love, yearning and regret, the former backed by droning strings, the latter warm with slide guitars and a thoroughly Mexican trumpet which surfaces again on 'La Frontera'. Later, the Latin-tinged 'La Confession' has some beautifully tongue-twisting musings on love and guilt. The only trouble comes with the songs in English: tracks such as 'Small Song' are trite and self-indulgent like the worst of Björk; they make English sound like the least singable language on earth. She should stick with French and Spanish.

SPIRITUALIZED, The Complete Works, Volume Two (Arista/ Spaceman)
Last year's Complete Works, Volume One of Jason Pierce's retrospective of B-sides, live versions and rarities covered the early days. Volume Two brings us up to date, and most of it will be familiar (in one form or another) to the fans Pierce picked up with the commercial breakthrough of Ladies and Gentlemen We Are Floating in Space. The collection is no less welcome for all that. There are common musical structures and themes, not to say songs, running through Pierce's music from his early Spacemen 3 days right through to last year's Amazing Grace; it's all a blissful carpet on which to drift away. Perhaps because of this, while the material aired covers several years, it all hangs together very well. The record does what any compilation should do by placing songs in a new context and giving them fresh life.

KID 606, Kill Sound Before Sound Kills You (Ipecac)
Miguel Depedro's third album lives up to its stated aim. Billed as an assault on electronic music from ambient to techno, gabba, glitch and drum'n' bass, it attacks its subject with merciless gusto. The opener, 'The Illness', sets the tone and pace, a vile mish-mash of acid sounds and driller-killer techno; 'Who Wah Kill Sound?' follows suit with dancehall samples and a drum'n'bass breakbeat that appears to be getting ahead of itself. Either, played loud, might make you throw up were you under the influence. 'Ecstasy Motherfucker's horrid woozy intro and 150-plus-beats-per-minute kick and hi-hats remind me of the white-gloved rooms I never went into at raves in the Nineties because the Vick's Vapo-Rub in the air made my eyes sting. In some ways it's a shame the album is front-loaded with nastiness because it has its charms. 'Buckle Up', featuring MC Wayne Lonesome's dancehall declamations, really hits the spot. The kid's a fine programmer, and all this is very clever; I defy anyone to listen to the whole thing in one sitting, though.

FONDA 500, Spectrumatronicalogical Sounds (Gentle Electric)
Fonda 500's fourth album is no radical departure, but it is a beauty. Thirty tracks sprawl across its 72-odd minutes, every one as charming as the last. An exercise in cut-and-paste of the lowest fidelity, it contains elements of everything from Krautrock ('Electronic Bee') to bossa nova (the Astrud Gilberto-aping 'La Mariposa del [sic] Noche') with a good dose of the kind of semi-psychedelic children's television programmes our generation were shown circa 1976. 'Un éléphant' starts with that annoying Casio VL-Tone rhythm from 'Da Da Da' then goes on to become a jam worthy of Primal Scream; 'Open_' is the story, with shifting, cheesy backings, of how five down-on-their-luck kids finally got their hands on the spectrumatronicalogical sounds of the title; 'Simon's Alphabetical Beard' goes on to hilarious effect about the magical teaching properties of said facial hair; there's even a blues tribute to the band's beloved Casio. Inspired, bizarre, delightful.

· To order The Coral for £10.99, Lhasa, Spiritualized or Kid 606 for £13.99 each or Fonda 500 for £12.99, call the Observer Music Service on 0870 066 7813. Prices include p&p