Thursday 17 April (Daily 10am - 6pm; Fri & Sat until 10pm)

@ Saatchi Gallery , County Hall, South Bank, SE1 (020.7823.2363) Tube: Waterloo/Westminster

Unlike America, Britain takes in its news mainly through the papers, and its gossip and sensations via her tabloids... yet it seems to have taken an eternity for her artists to respond to this state. So it seems that it would just take an old ad-man to truly appreciate an art-form that is part social commentary, part self-promotion, and all tabloid-fodder! Love him or love to hate him, Charles Saatchi is part of that post-Thatcher, Blairite "Cool Britannia" moment, but it was his wife, who got him into art -- then it was Andre, Twombly, Lewitt (his first purchase being a Lewitt wall-drawing), all blue-chip stuff really. Legend has it however that Saatchi's taste changed upon confronting the '88 Hirst-curated group show Freeze in London's Docklands. Then like an Ikea ad, it was out with the old and in with the almost-new.

Now, by closing down the clean modernist St. John's Wood warehouse and replacing it with the Rococo County Hall -- the former government offices for the City of London -- along from Tate Modern, Saatchi has effectively announced his desire to keep up with the Tates, all this is very timely given that many are now orbituarizing the YBAs. In some circles, he is considered to be the most "influential" collector in the world... after all, few other collectors of contemporary art come with their own advertising machine and art gallery, then again few contemporary collectors need to be in that much of the limelight. Neither a Vogel nor a Panza, the question to ask is whether Scratchi is important? Quite possibly, as he did pay for Hirst's shark. Sure there is an undiscerning element to the Scratch, but then he has collected widely and, on occasion, even unfashionably: e.g. artists like John Wilkins and Merlin James. This is testimony to, one hopes, Charles's intellectual curiosity rather than the vanity that has motivated him to compete with the Serota! It's not quite Arsenal and Fergie but still, the man did "champion" a certain London, nay British moment. On the other hand, if it's just things in glass boxes you like, the aquarium's just next door...

Giveaway: We have two copies of 100: The Work that Changed British Art to give away. They'll go to two randomly picked subscribers who can tell us the exact title of Hirst's infamous shark piece.

Friday 18 April

@ Cinemas across London

Atom Egoyan's latest, is a typically complex, elliptical meditation on his recurring themes of truth, identity and responsibility. As always, it's beautiful to look at, as well as elegantly oblique and allusive, if occasionally baffling -- this is inevitable given the prominence of the theme of the evasiveness, even impossibility, of any such thing as a single, subjective "truth". What is untypical about Ararat, is the shift in focus from Egoyan's regular concerns of the personal and intimate to the historical, cultural and political. Within history, culture and politics there really is no subject bigger, more emotive, sensitive and -- in this case, controversial -- than genocide. Here, it is the 1915 Armenian Genocide, at the hands of the Turks, the controversy lying in the continuing Turkish denial that it happened at all and the apparent reluctance of the rest of the world, while accepting that it happened, to do much by way of acknowledging it -- shades of Japan and Nankin! As an Armenian Canadian, these events clearly have a deep personal resonance to Egoyan, but taking on such a big subject carries with it great responsibility and here, maybe Egoyan fails.

The central narrative device of Ararat is the making of a film in Canada, by an Armenian director called Ararat, on the subject of the Armenian genocide. A certain amount of reflexivity is allowed any artist and Egoyan argues that the film within the film is not the film he has made, or would make. Indeed, it's also a critique on the film-making process and how art can distort, as well as illuminate, history. While that's true, one can't help but wonder if what's happening here is Egoyan using genocide as a backdrop for a film about film-making, and if that's really not the wrong way round. Is this a genuine and honest approach by an artist to an overwhelming subject? Or one of self-absorption? Finally, is it merely an act of monstrous ego? We'd like to believe either of the first two, but when Egoyan has his characters say of his fictional director that "he's one of the greatest directors in the world" the ego thing looms unpleasantly large.

NB: The Other Cinema is hosting an Egoyan retrospective (from Thu 24/04 to Thu 01/05) and also hosting a special screening with panel discussion ("Ararat, Genocide Remembrance and Armenian National Cinema") on Thu 24/04 at 6:40pm. Speakers include: Armenian cinema specialist Nora Armani, Nouritza Matossian (biographer of Arshile Gorky and consultant to Ararat), film critic and author of a critical study of Egoyan, Jonathan Romney (tbc) and Genocide historian Ara Sarafian. Moderator: Gareth Evans (editor Vertigo).

Friday 18 April (18/04 & 19/04 at 7:30pm)

@ Royal Festival Hall, South Bank, SE1 (020.7960.4203 or 4242) Tube: Embankment/Rail Waterloo

If you're a huge Pavement fan, as well as a larger Billy Childish follower, then your luck is golden, as this weekend is your chance to discover Down the Dustpipe. It seems appropriate given that these past months have emphasized our special relationship with the US of A, that the RFH is putting on this little mini-fest described as "deep-mining US & UK connections". Stephen Malkmus, ex-singer, guitarist and brain behind the now defunct Pavement, headlines two dates over the weekend with some very interesting openers, one Billy Childish and his Buff Medways. Live, Malkmus is cerebral and self-deprecating as he delivers his unique and enjoyable stylings; he has survived the '90s "alternatives" onslaught, and he is under-appreciated. His solo work is strong, yet reminiscent of, but somewhat more whimsical than, his old outfit. We don't know if his band; The Jicks, are a revolving-door backup-group but on his first solo album, they've certainly proven themselves quite snazzy.

Quite apart in style and again generally mostly under-appreciated, is Billy Childish of many-bands fame; Thee Milkshakes, Thee Headcoats, Thee Mighty Caesars, to mention a few. His style has been much copied and is even considered a "new genre", thanks to the many new "THE" bands, but none have come close to capturing the spirit and romantic love of the good old-fashioned garage Rock and Roll. In the States, Childish plays to sold-out audiences for hours and no one leaves early, which is saying a lot for the typical say, Angeleno crowd. His latest album, Steady the Buffs is excellent, and is in heavy rotation on many stereos over there. If your first exposure to the "wild" Bill happens to be at this event, quoting the last track on his Steady album -- a selection from The Who's expanded version of Happy jack -- then, "You are forgiven". So let's tool out and celebrate the part of America that we do love...

NB: Fri 18/04 line-up is as follows: Graham Coxon (formerly of Blur), Bert Jansch, Mark Perry & Alternative TV. Sat 19/04's line-up is: The Ground Hogs, Vashti Bunyan, Wizz Jones, and Super Furry Animals.

Friday 18 April (Fri 18/04 to Thu 24/04 )

@ Barbican Centre, Barbican Centre, EC2 (020.7638.8891) Tube: Barbican

Courting controversy is what Spike Lee's built his career on, that and loving the Knicks but it's been a while... the unfortunate nature of a minority artist making his voice heard. Do the Right Thing, Jungle Fever and Malcolm X certainly pushed the right buttons, but plainly brought underlying issues to the fore -- not something you imagine Bruce Lee doing, but then Bruce was a mere actor. Sweeter films, like his first indie feature She's gotta have it, engage with race yet make space for his humour and allow more generous characterisation, plus Spike always wrote himself a nice juicy part: who can forget "underwear man" and who else would call his films, "a Spike Lee Joint". Perhaps what he has done best for African-Americans has been to create work amongst his race and introduce them to more mainstream audiences without resorting to blaxploitation.

Unbeknownst to most, the Atlanta-born, Brooklyn-based director has made a handful of commercials and music videos: Miles Davis, Tracy Chapman, Anita Baker and Public Enemy amongst others, as well as commercials for Nike Air Jordan in the late '80s, Levi's and AT&T. Like his humour, Lee's musical interests have been marginalized due to his penchant for controversy, even after Mo' Better Blues. Well the Barbican's retrospective will include two evenings of his film music conducted by his composer Terence Blanchard and introduced by the Spike himself, but really we're just all waiting for him to go the way of Oliver Stone, and move from controversy to sports: where's the Knicks' film Spike? If Spike had been a white Jew, then he'd kick Woody Allen's ass...

NB: The full Spike Lee retrospective runs from Fri 18/04 to Thu 24/04. The man himself will be hosting two nights of his film music with Terence Blanchard (Mon 21/04 and Tues 22/04 -- part of the Barbican's Only Connect Festival). Tickets avaliable by calling 0845.120.7524 or the Barbican's Spike Lee microsite.

Giveaway: We have five pairs of tickets to any film after the long weekend (ie He Got Game, Bamboozled, The Original Kings of Comedy or Jim Brown All American) to give away (except 25th Hour -- because it's sold out). They'll go to five randomly picked subscribers who can tell us in which Lee film did Adrien Brody act in.

Thursday 24 April (7pm)

@ Prince Charles, Leicester Place, WC2 (0901 2727 007) Tube: Piccadilly/Leicester Square

Sadly this event is sold out but we've decided to include it anyway just incase some of you Flashers have never heard of him. And, you never know, call 020.7494.3654 and see if there are any ticket returns.

Haruki Murakami's books are deceptively simple: loads of music references (a result of having run a Jazz cafe for a number of years), foodie culture -- thrown in to make you salivate -- and the occasional sexy scene -- thrown in to make you salivate. Come to think of it, he sounds like Nick Hornby -- a North Londoner he is not however, and this does not explain his popularity at all. After the huge success of Norwegian Wood (1987), Murakami became so popular in Japan that he left the country to preserve his peace of mind. It's a simple tale, girl-boy love; the sorta thing the Beatles wrote songs about. In fact his writing has the breezy quality of a Beatles tune... at least outside Japan. Back there Norwegian Wood is their Catcher in the Rye, every teen has read it. It's full of youngsters talking freely 'bout "s-e-x". Maybe he's what Nick Hornby does in his spare time?

Before the sarin gas attack in Tokyo, Murakami wrote in vaguely two genres: the surreal, magic realist novel and the strange meandery, love story. Some combined the two, love-struck teens hanging with Sheep-headed men, but both forms seen to engage with a "light", existential questioning... this is not to underplay his seriousness, but unlike the ponderous and occasionally dark, Paul Auster and Kafka before him, Murakami's realism where the loner -- both male and female -- seem detached from the world and yet caught in its materiality (jazz, pop, sushi, beer -- lite and non-lite -- handbags) work through life's tough questions with an ease not to be found elsewhere. With Underground (1997) his first non-fiction book of interviews from the '95 gas attack, the 54 year old Kobe born uprooted himself from Princeton and returned to Japan. Perhaps now, there'll be another kinda realism... his real fans think that there's a Nobel Prize to be had, but that would seem deep in all the wrong ways, we certainly hope to just read of more tasty sushi consumption.

Ends Monday 26 May (Daily 10am - 5:40pm)

@ Tate Britain, Millbank, SW1 (020.7887.8008) Tube: Pimlico

Ever since Sensation, we have come to expect a degree of spectacle from our contemporary art. This time, the closest we get is Cornelia Parker's much publicised wrapping of Rodin's sculpture, The Kiss, in a mile of rope. Sure, Parker has transformed something timelessly romantic into a claustrophobic S&M fantasy, but there's little else to shout about here. Indeed, the 23 artists selected by Ikon Gallery curator Jonathan Watkins and Tate curator, Judith Nesbitt, can only be grouped together by their consistent understatement. Don't get us wrong -- this can be a positive thing.

The title of the show is drawn from Mike Marshall's video, Days Like These, a reflective and elegant study into the overlooked beauty of the everyday, a theme continued in Turko-British artist, Kutlug Ataman's four screen video-projection charting a year in the life of horticulturalist, Veronica Read. Still, there is room for some drama: Jim Lambie has transformed the floor of the Duveen Gallery into a mesmerising sea of multi-coloured stripes and the placing of David Batchelor's totemic column of coloured panels at the end is a perfect piece of curatorial positioning -- as if the floor is pushing upwards in a surge of energy towards the ceiling.

Whilst it's always great to see work of the now eighty-year old Grandfather of Brit-Art, Richard Hamilton, his obsessive investigation into Duchamp's, quintessential masterpiece, The Large Glass has been on-going for years, and falls a little outside of the mission statement of art that "represents the moment". Much the same could be said of market favourite, Peter Doig, whose recent work seems decidedly lacklustre against Gillian Carnegie's refreshingly eclectic and restless landscape and still-life paintings. Photography may be in remission right now, but Shizuka Yokomizo's invitation to complete strangers to stand at their windows at night, and pose for the lens of her unseen camera reflects on photography's voyeuristic potential, as well as the complexity of human response to being watched. Other highlights include Paul Noble's breathtakingly detailed wall drawings, and Margaret Barron's series of jewel-like paintings which have been dispersed throughout Tate Britain and attached to local lamp posts and street signs. Overall, this is a quiet show, and one that demands time spent actually thinking (for a change). Yes, it's patchy in places, but it marks a refreshing turn away from the wham-bam aesthetic of the YBA years.