Is it a worthy addition to their canon, though? Absolutely. The things that make this band a real treasure can all still be found here--the slightly beat-up romanticism, the pessimism of the secret optimist, the big, bold beauty of the melodies, the detailed imperfect perfection of the music.

Picking out highlights from a treasure chest overflowing with golden nuggets is a tough call, but Inspiral Carpets' 'Theme From Cow' off their unsurpassed and impossible to find Plane Crash EP, *8Kitchens Of Distinction's shoegaze prototype 'Prize', Thrilled Skinny's introduction to fraggle 'So Happy To Be Alive' and Mancunian oddballs King Of The Slums**' 'The Pennine Spitter' are just four of many reasons why this compilation should be high on every music completist's shopping list.

What makes Native Invader a work of genius--a kind of Great American novel, perhaps--is that it seamlessly blends the personal, political, natural and cosmic into the same story.

Okovi won’t topple Stridulum II as the most essential Zola Jesus record, but it’s another excellent record that once again showcases a unique and powerful voice.

VanGaalen draws from familiar territory. What makes these songs truly surreal (and ergo, sublime) are his wacky scenes, both monstrous and endearingly human all at once.

Expect the Best stands out amongst other reverb-drenched indie rock for being exceptionally well composed.

The music is often troubling--as well it should be, given the context--but ultimately it is a trenchantly human record that is sweepingly cinematic in scope.

All in all, the album is unremarkable, showing only rare flashes of lyrical prowess, and melodically unadventurous. Bugg fails to push boundaries and flounders outside his recent comfort zone, resulting in a record that fails to impress, delivered without vigour.

Every Country's Sun sounds pleasingly massive, as any Mogwai album should, as there is something specifically about Fridmann's techniques that just understands the band's heavy hitting style.

It feels like a body of work that’s been carefully planned and thought-out, which is ironic, given so much of it was just 'a happy experiment'.

In an age when subtlety is far from the most prized connotative currency, Isotach is a quite literal stark reminder that finesse and restraint can still bound forth on their own terms.

While they still don’t do hits, no-one does brooding, slow-burn magnificence quite like Murphy. He builds everything from the ground up, solid foundations augmented by neat details and flourishes. More than ever, American Dream demonstrates how rhythm is central to LCD Soundsystem.

It is no coincidence that the moments when Dwyer’s writing strays furthest from the familiar format are the least satisfying. It is reasonable to assume that he is capable of far more intriguing and stimulating excursions than these.

While Shah’s tunes are so enjoyable to listen to, that unsettling harmonic twang continues to add a feverish subsidy to her soulful voice, a reminder of the uneasiness of the subject matter.

As we approach the centre, the violent and promiscuous impulses usually reserved for men bubble into view, reclaimed firmly in terms that Trent Reznor only wishes he could convey again. Caught undertow in this wreckage, you might mistake such a layout for entropy; step back, however, and the boarders and subdivisions wrought by EMA’s hand become clear.

On Art in the Age of Automation they are back to their best and clearly enjoying this newfound vigour for their craft.

Produced differently, A Deeper Understanding could be really startling stuff; as it is, it feels like The War on Drugs have made an agreeable, fan-pleasing album to escape into and hide in, not to a record to take on the world--but perhaps that’s not such a bad thing in 2017.

Villains isn’t a terrible record, but it’s not a fantastic record either, and that’s perhaps the least kind thing that could be said about new material from a band which we’ve come to expect a lot from.

Where TFCF will stand in Liars’ overall oeuvre remains to be seen, but for an album that wasn’t expected to be a solo piece, Andrew does very well on his own to make his mark.

Ghostpoet’s vocals are delivered in a consistent, mumbled, emotionally-drained understatement throughout, lending the album a sense of authenticity that it could not survive without.

Where Everything Everything’s previous releases were as bonkers-crammed full of a surfeit of different stylistic tics, flourishes, embellishments and more not only from song to song within each album but even in every individual track, here, a definite sound and style has been settled on.

While the band have clearly slowed down to create their fifth record, Painted Ruins shows no signs of stopping their quality of sound and long may that continue.

There are hooks here, but they are scattered and often attached to tracks that come worryingly close to mediocre exercises in MOR.

The great thing about Blondes is how they move through such simple ingredients as a decent bassline and a tight groove, and end up in some tripped out wonderland after nine minutes of hedonistic bliss. On Warmth, they’ve traded that sound for something a bit harder and more immediate, which doesn’t end up all bad, but does sacrifice that elegiac joy they used to perfect so readily.

Their collective relentless energy combined with their individual talents saves their sound from feeling repetitive.

By insisting on its purpose as soundtrack, Daniel Lopatin addresses that separation head-on. This defiance asserts Good Time as a record to listen to in the here and now, with or without its filmic accompaniment.

The record isn't perfect either, though it's enjoyable in places.

Even by their own standards, the lack of posing or pretence on this LP is startling; it’s a raw, bare-bones affair with nothing in the way of embellishment.