Winner of album review competition announced

Well, we did ask. We wanted you to write a 150-word review of the best album of last year not on our top-30 list a fortnight ago. And you wrote. Or some of you did.

Dawn from Thames, check under the bed, your entry might be there because it wasn't in the envelope.

And Emmylou, your two e-mails were both empty. Do what guys do and read the manual, girlfriend!

And nice try Emma of Grey Lynn but two entries for the Dandy Warhols' Welcome to the Monkey House didn't double your chances.

But we read 'em all (in your case twice, Emma) and some observations for would-be reviewers: it's not enough to say "this really rocks"; "awesome" is an empty and lazy word; and the use of "timeless" should be sparing. (Will the Thrills' album thrill endlessly?)

Some of you adopted an interesting tone: "Dig this one, bro. It'll blow your cotton socks off." That's Irene on Hayley Westenra's Pure.

Many told us what an album wasn't: Tania said Delta Goodrem's album was "not the newest thing on the gospel block, overloading us with reasons why we are all going to Hell" (thank God for that) and Briar told us the Thrills are "not obnoxiously joyful" and "don't get played in franchised cafes." (?)

P from Manukau on Alaska's Emotions: "So your pet turtle has just been diagnosed senile and there's only butter and beer in the fridge. Emotions is for Sisyphus and the like." We knew P was a problem.

Stephen, we don't think you should know the bass in Korn's Take a Look in the Mirror would suit any porn-movie soundtrack - but we enjoyed imagining Fiona dancing around in her underwear while vacuuming and listening to Goodshirt's Good. But that album came in 2001.

A few of you fell into that trap, wrote beyond the word limit or offered compilations which we specifically excluded.

The albums by Linkin Park, A Perfect Circle, the Darkness and Nick Cave pulled multiple entries, and there were sentimental votes for the late Warren Zevon (all conceding it wasn't his best). Only a couple of local acts got the thumbs up (Hayley and Fur Patrol) and no one went into bat for Scribe. Like us maybe you thought it had great singles but wasn't a killer album.

Anyway, good one Brendan for mentioning Sartre while rooting for Ryan Adam's Love is Hell: Part One (although most of your writing was indecipherable), and Jonathan from Remuera is making us go back and listen to Sleepy Jackson's Lovers in the hope, too, of finding it "sublimely post-coital".

Azure on the Coral's Magic and Medicine: "In the latrine that is modern music, malleable adolescent products engineer ostentatious, prosaic contrivance that their corporate patriarchs sell as 'music'. So thank goodness for the Coral, an analgesic Liverpudlian band here to revive lost faith with their ornate second album." Yes, we had to read it three times also.

Pleading for the prize didn't help and nor did threats. Flattery about our list was nice but a little suss also. The Planet of the Apes postcard (Heston version, of course) was pretty cool though, Chris.

While we are wiser for knowing Opeth's Damnation urinates all over other Scandinavian death metallers (cheers for that, Liam) in the end there could be only one winner. Sorry Martin, it wasn't Wing Sings the Carpenters.

So hats off to Alexis McCullough of Northcote, whose pithy review is published below. We're off to buy the album Alexis, and on the way to you are copies of our 30 top picks for 2003 and two tickets to the Big Day Out. See you at the Lily Pad.

BELLE AND SEBASTIAN

Dear Catastrophe Waitress

(Sanctuary)

As chief lyricist and singer Stuart Murdoch coos "If I could do just one near perfect thing I'd be happy", you can't help but think he must be a very happy man after successfully crafting the band's most unified and sophisticated album since 1996's If You're Feeling Sinister.

Belle and Sebastian's decision to enlist the producing talents of Trevor Horn (well known for his work with teenage lesbian-chic duo Tatu) has enabled the band to produce a more coherent and well-polished album, while still displaying the subtle charm which the band's many devoted indie fans are enchanted by.

Murdoch's ability to write lyrics that fuse innocence and irony - a much-loved characteristic of Belle and Sebastian's tunes - is delightfully present throughout the album and perfectly illustrated in the stand-out track I'm A Cuckoo, where a cheery arrangement disguises a song about a painful relationship break-up.

From the 60s pop parody of Step Into My Office Baby to the Simon and Garfunkel-esque If She Wants Me and the Bowie-inspired new wave of Stay Loose, Dear, Catastrophe Waitress instantly invokes the sweet familiarity of an old friend - one who you're not afraid to shimmy along with.