Idlewild

Warnings/Promises (Capitol)

If you consider Coldplay too snooze-inducing and Radiohead frustratingly pretentious, then you'd be wise to give Idlewild a listen. Over the course of five increasingly great albums, the Scottish quintet has become famous overseas without scoring a single hit in the United States. That could finally change with Warnings/Promises, which establishes Idlewild as the best mainstream UK band you've probably never heard. It's certainly been a slow evolution: The group's earliest albums were rockier – in every sense of the word – affairs, maelstroms of serrated guitar riffs and sharp wit. But on 2002's surprisingly consistent The Remote Part, the guys began streamlining their material into huge, arena-ready songs that retain a beguiling, almost folkish charm – an approach they nearly perfect on their latest release.

Warnings/Promises isn't only the group's most radio-friendly work – it's also their best. Embracing the perpetual comparisons to R.E.M., they flesh out their sound with Out of Time-worthy mandolin, pedal steel, and even Michael Stipe-esque posturing courtesy of frontperson Roddy Woomble. Kicking things off on a soaring, exquisitely melodic note with "Love Steals Us from Loneliness," Idlewild then effortlessly fold country, acoustic balladry, and barnstorming, Nirvana-esque squalls into the mix. Sure, there's nothing wholly original about their pop rock songs, but they still deserve props for their willingness to bring grace, warmth, and intimacy – without sacrificing any anthemic oomph – to modern rock airwaves. And even if the album doesn't signal Idlewild's stateside breakthrough, it's only a matter of time before The O.C. discovers Warnings/Promises. Idlewild play Oct. 5, Slim's, SF. (415) 522-0333. (Jimmy Draper)

Thelonious Monk Quartet with John Coltrane

At Carnegie Hall (Blue Note)

Monumental moments in music, such as the five months in 1957 that tenor saxophonist John Coltrane was a member of pianist Thelonious Monk's combo, sometimes go little-noticed in their time. Monk's career was then in ascendance, his unorthodox keyboard technique and unique harmonic language having finally become widely accepted. Coltrane's, however, was at a low ebb when Monk called – he'd recently quit Miles Davis and was living with his mother in Philadelphia.

The pairing was as perfect and profound as those of Louis Armstrong and Earl Hines, Billie Holiday and Lester Young, and Charlie Parker and Dizzy Gillespie, yet little of it was documented. Riverside, the label to which Monk was contracted, cut only three tunes by the group – and kept them in the can four years. A CD of material from the quartet's extended engagement at the Five Spot, in New York City, surfaced in 1993, but its fidelity was torturously low. Finally, nearly a half century after the fact, come 51 hi-fi minutes of the group in glorious form. Recorded by Voice of America shortly before the band broke up – leading Coltrane to rejoin Davis – the concert tapes were recently discovered at the Library of Congress.

Monk brought out in Coltrane a confidence and sense of adventure that had only been hinted at during his first stint with Davis. With Monk aggressively stabbing his piano on such compositions as "Epistrophy" and a swifter-than-usual "Blue Monk," Coltrane became breathtakingly assertive, and when Monk stepped away from the piano to do his little dance, bassist Ahmed Abdul-Malik and drummer Shadow Wilson supplying the only safety net, Coltrane didn't back off his scale-swooping assault. He'd arrived as the heavyweight champ of the jazz saxophone and, until his death a decade later, would slay all contenders. (Lee Hildebrand)

Steve Spacek

Space Shift (Sound in Color)

Steve Spacek has struck out on his own, leaving London behind for Los Angeles, and it sounds like a good move. After two successful albums with his band Spacek, the singer headed for sunnier climes, dusted off his MPC skills and Logic chops, and hooked up with one of southern California's brightest new labels, Sound in Color, home to broken beat phenom GB and turntablist Ricci Rucker. Apparently the more temperate climes have done Spacek wonders, and Space Shift finds him fleshing out his ethereal soul, warming it up in the sun.

Spacek's sound is still focused on his breathy, fluttering voice, and the production remains spare and elegant, with a tight, almost preening restraint. But the delicate hand drums and plucked guitar of "Days of My Life" are balanced with fuller phrasing, a rounder bass. And when Spacek brings in collaborators to help out with production (though he doesn't really need it, having programmed much of the first Spacek album, Curvatia), the album really takes off. J Dilla (Slum Village, Common) drags the sound back into golden-era soul but keeps the beats raw and gritty on "Dollar." Former Spacek bandmate Morgan Zarate returns for a subtly Afro-inflected "Three Hours of Funk," and songwriter Leon Ware (Marvin Gaye's "I Want You") joins in for a smoking duet with a criminally stuttered bass line. California is crowded with British ex-pat musicians – would that all their efforts were as sublime. Space Shift will be released Oct. 4. Steve Spacek plays Sept. 28, DNA Lounge, SF. (415) 626-1409. (Peter Nicholson)