The Gum plan for world domination continues with this, their first release of 2006. At times it's punchier and even more radio-friendly than the debut album, but it still contains some beautifully downbeat moments, with loads of soaring strings, spooky atmospherics and heart-rending major seventh chords. This just might be the album that takes Gum to another level. Buy it and discover the meaning of life.

With soundscapes this dreamy, a voice this angelic and chord changes this seductive, it's no wonder that this superb debut album got rave reviews in 2003. There are dark and foreboding moments, but also a clutch of killer tunes and some genuinely top-notch production. There are not many copies of the original pressing left, so buy it now and own a future collector's item.

Short, sweet and very much to the point. Oodles of gorgeous harmonies and a chorus KT Tunstall would murder for.

Bitterness has never sounded so sweet. Imagine Aimee Mann going for the jugular by way of Zero 7 and you're halfway there.

Sweeping, majestic and bound to feature at a stadium near you soon, this epic has 'future Bond theme' written all over it.

Newly energised by the studio wizardry of Bowman and Poole, this longstanding Gum favourite grooves and rocks and has a chorus you could hang a wet duffelcoat on.

So many aspects of the Gum sound are represented here; the verses are moody, the choruses dazzle you with harmony and the coda is like Garbage paying tribute to Burt Bacharach.

Wistful vocals, lush chords and more atmosphere than you could shake a stick at. This is the perfect closing track for the album. Just wallow in those creamy textures ... trust me, you'll love it.

This fine album features 12 literate and punchy songs that will sit nicely in your record collection alongside acts like Crowded House, Squeeze, Elvis Costello and Aimee Mann. Unless, that is, you file your CDs alphabetically, in which case it might sit between The Eiderdown Blankets and Ejector Seat Button.

And, no matter where you are in the world, it can be yours for a mere £8.99.

Delicate and dreamy, this song wallows in the sweet pain of infatuation, sounding for all the world like a slightly tipsy Beautiful South trying to impersonate XTC.

A song about the desire to create yet more pointless art doesn't sound that promising, but the chorus, as the saying goes, "kicks ass". Imagine an angry Crowded House, embarrassed at having to appear on an Austrian TV show with a performing seal.

A brief assault on the senses, crammed with retro synths, a disco bassline, crashing powerchords and harmonies straight out of the Beatles songbook. The line "You learn from experience that you don't learn much from experience" is key to illustrating the folly of the world created by the self-deluding losers in this song.

This song reflects on some of the nasty little calculations that we make in our everyday lives. If Morrissey had joined Squeeze instead of The Smiths, he might have sounded like this. Pure pop for now people, as they used to say.

This has been described as "a cross between The The and Aimee Mann", which I would take as a compliment. It's definitely more bitter than sweet, as it imagines two people tearing each other apart, one day at a time (sweet Jesus).

An acoustic meditation on the perfidy of politicians and con-men, all of those clever folk who can pull imaginary rabbits out of hats. Does the world really need another Napoleon? I think not.

A bit like Travis trying to impersonate ELO, with strings and everything, this song has big drums, big guitars, big vocals and a big chorus. And while we're on the "big" theme, the lyric suggests that life is like a big 10,000-piece jigsaw, only there might be several bits missing.

A melancholic little song, featuring guitar, cello and some very fine bongos. Imagine Neil Finn being asked to write an astrology column for Cosmopolitan. You can dream all you want, but alas the world is only as it is, not as how we would like it to be.

A cacophonous rant on fame, hypocrisy and hubris. If Elvis Costello wasn't doing opera or something, and he decided to write a sneering song about a crazy celebrity couple, this would be it. The idea was to scratch the glossy surface of celebrity and find, not just vapidity, but a real heart of darkness ... but in a funny way.

It's very difficult to write something about being a parent without coming over all soppy, but this light and airy little song has a decent stab at it. The jazzy drum loop and fine lyrical guitar keep it just on the right side of the taste barrier. If nothing else, it will embarrass my kids.

With some chords straight out of the Joni Mitchell-wannabee songbook, this downbeat piece uses just acoustic guitar and voice to tell a story about two people who are close, but not close enough. As another song famously said: "Istanbul was Constantinople, now it's Istanbul, not Constantinople".

This was inspired by a news story about a religious figurine that was reported to have wept real tears. The song's unhinged narrator is angry and bitter, he owns a gun and he's as dumb as a bucket of mud. You could say that he's ticking a lot of the wrong boxes. A big shout-out to potential rampagists everywhere.