The theme tune from the Sopranos and some incendiary performances should really have catapulted these Brixton boys to national attention, but pop's own outlaw gang (reputedly formed in rehab) remain in a file marked Best Kept Secret. Their fourth album illustrates their schtick: Hank Williams goes acid house, and stars in a real-life Trainspotting on the way.
Alabama 3's world is one of missed last trains to Nashville, "shades" at breakfast, blurred lines between religious devotion and a lack of abstinence, and pseudonyms like The Very Reverend Dr D Wayne Love. However, beneath the pathos and irony, they are quietly becoming fabulous lyricists, able to set a scene in a single line. Always top drawer songwriters, the mythologising Hello ... I'm Johnny Cash and Up Above My Head are among the best in their canon. It's difficult to see what else they can do to become widely-loved except perform in every living room across the nation, which given their record of infamy shouldn't be ruled out.