Davies’ solo output would increase in the Eighties, yet like his day job band, the quality began to vary markedly. Here we have a snapshot of a time when he was at the top of his game--but overshadowed in the public eye by his brother’s more easily digestible (and, let’s face it, available) work.

While the ten songs that follow aren’t quite as arresting, there are still plenty of earworms to be found.

As a collection of well-trod leitmotifs, Fudge Sandwich functions more as further folklore in the Segall autobiography than a mere cursory look at the tracklist would suggest.

It’s cheeky, and should be gimmicky, but this is a record so sharply made in Kenney’s own non-conformist image, and she gets away with it. On this form, she’s destined for alt-pop greatness.

The mayhem, the confusion, the hysteria, Holter has learned to embrace all of it, and by reflecting it honestly in her music, she has shown the rest of us that whilst we live in alarming times, empathy and love continue to stand strong. Aviary will be a challenging listen for many, but its message needs to be heard.

Despite its supernatural setting and modern day political commentary, you get the sense that Yorke remains hopeful amongst the darkness. Perhaps this is down to age, perhaps it’s some sort of foolishness--but the optimism never completely fades from Suspiria and gives it a human quality that is not immediately obvious amidst the Seventies synths and modal incantations.

Honey is a fine record, a consistent record and a thoroughly enjoyable record. But it is not a great record, and in comparison with the standard she has set for herself previously, this is a mild (though fleeting) disappointment. That said, there is still a clear and beating heart here and the sheer humanity of Robyn’s musical soul remains one of the most beautiful things in contemporary music.

Last Building Burning feels like you’d hope it’d feel, as a 36-minute rush of blood to the head.

Live at the BBC is obviously preposterously big (I'm kind of relieved not to have been sent the accompanying DVD), but actually that’s kind of fine in the digital era – it’s not that old fashioned beast ‘the live album’, but a whole sprawling history to immerse yourself in, eras hurtling by.

The Distant Sky EP is what happens when a lone wolf suddenly needs to reach out and touch. It’s the chaotic scream around loosing a child. It’s a careful help me into the darkness. It’s an invitation to come closer, to hold hands--at last, be close to our St Nick. And it’s fucking glorious. It could have done with a better mix, though.

Over these ten songs Lenker continues to carve out the little slices of magic that at this stage we now fully expect from her.

Grant might just be taking the piss here, but his impish spirit reflects a writer with his fingers on the pulse of what’s really magic in this era: an understanding of humanity and all its feathery mess.

Overall, you’re left the impression of an artist genuinely expressing themselves. It may not be his Born In The USA--despite what Vile claims--but Bottle It In ultimately succeeds in its intentions and further escalates Vile’s reputation as part of a rare breed of authentic songwriters. And that’s alright for now.

Possible Dust Clouds finds Kristin Hersh as artistically curious and inventive as ever. Committed to avoiding easy choices musically and lyrically, she remains intent on exploring the murky complexities of the mind and continuing to make the best work of her career. She is an artist that’s always evolving, and yet again the results are often dazzling and always fantastically bewildering.

This is not the best Marissa Nadler record, but it kind of feels like her most perfect, potentially the resolution of a subtle identity crisis that’s run through her music over the years.

A record this willing to go the absolute distance to challenge expectations yet entertain and move so consistently should equally be heralded in such high regard [as Screamadelica], which in time, this will.

Marshall has created an album with a nuance and polish she didn’t have in her early days of just her and her guitar. Even if the territory is somewhat familiar, she’s never made an album quite like this before.

Konoyo exists as a glorious symphony that brings together the starkness of electronic experimentation and the human warmth of traditional acoustics into an astonishing whole.

With Digital Garage, Mudhoney have provided the noise-escape of the year. The war may never be won, but at least now we’ve got somewhere to hide when it all gets a bit much.

Who Do You Love is yet more proof of Årabrot’s status as amongst Europe’s leading alternative rock acts.

A thorny, earth-stained treasure.

King of Cowards confirms it’s Pigs that deserve to have their cake and eat it. But it’s also an open invitation to join in the overindulgence with a complete lack of contrition. To gorge on the fruits of their labour is to feel utterly replete, that said, I’m not one to turn down thirds. More more more more more more more!

With Pastoral Bernholz, excavates beneath the superficial lush turf of England’s green and pleasant land to reveal an angry mix of ancient and contemporary pus-filled sores.

There's an intricate balance struck between analogue and digital, between raw confession and meticulously engineered sonic detail.

Chris is an album delivered for a wider audience, but still with a subversive and unique texture and emotion that loses nothing of the vacillating energy of the subculture whilst making a confident play for the biggest stages.

Full of tasty licks and rocking out it may be, but The More I Sleep the Less I Dream is also genuinely reflective and melancholic as the band continue to mature. Let’s just hope they still get those jetpacks they were promised, even if equally feral and refined albums like this mean they might not need them to soar anymore.

Overall, there’s as much room for the head explodeGIF in Monsters Exist; as there is in a WhatsApp group-chat post philosophy lecture.

Far from being just a gifted synthesiser experimenter, then, Sarah Davachi is increasingly establishing herself as a multi-faceted explorer of the many liminal terrains of minimalist music. Gave in Rest is a work of disarmingly simple, yet often extremely profound, beauty.