Love is a bittersweet business. As a fine chronicler of the nonsense of the heart—she is particularly merciless with sexually voracious men and the exploitation of women by the media—Kirsty MacColl's acid lyrics come wrapped in honeyed harmonies and beguiling sweetness. It's like being mugged by fairies. And it's a sound that transforms other people's songs, too. The scuffed wisdom in songs by Billy Bragg, The Pogues and The Kinks gleams anew, given her immaculate one-woman Beach Boys treatment, but it's her righteous fury that lingers longest in the mind.