While not everything here measures up to the album's highlights, this is still an enjoyable and mostly solid effort that doesn't stray too far from what Mould has done best over the last few decades.

Pursuit of Momentary Happiness is neither a mere regurgitation of Alas Salvation, nor does it send the band in a completely new direction altogether--instead, it showcases a steady yet unhurried matureness emanating from Oli Burslem's bittersweet Iggy-meets-Lou vocals (he is indeed a talented crooner, and 'Words Fail Me' is one of the most romantic tunes I've heard recently) and the overall tight sonic deliver that ultimately allows for a détente of the listener, who in their turn realises they needn't be afraid to find any uncomfortable gaps.

Mostly unlistenable. ... What has previously been a steady but inoffensive deterioration in Lennox’s music has now slid to (what one can only hope is) the bottom of the trough. No track here could be accused of attempting to engage with either the audience or work with recent exciting stylistic developments in alternative music.

In the face of so much uncertainty, it’s tempting to think that armageddon is the only answer. Whilst not standing toe-to-toe with the very best of McComb’s discography, Tip of the Sphere is as good a soundtrack to The End Times as anything he’s done.

No More Normal is uplifting and wholesome, packaging a definite homage to UK music through the variety of artists included.

Gallipoli--a complete departure from band’s musically stale, emotionally sleepy No No No--reminds long-time listeners of the initial hype that surrounded Condon and Beirut long ago.

Everything’s for Sale will find an audience. Its gilded despair only leaves a greater impression with each listen. If there’s an album for the sad Instagrammer, posing in a beam of perfect light, copyrighted smile, only to heave a sigh, this is it.

This Is Not The End doesn’t so much land on its feet as delicately drift into its aptly morose, pop punky pose, assured without a scent of try-hard, an almost jarring naturalism.

Individuality has been smoothed out by production and a lack of lyrical diversity. Undeniably a star, Maggie’s light has been dimmed here.

This is a slick, polished rock album with a clear lineage from bands such as L7, Sleater-Kinney and Celebrity Skin-era Hole to more contemporary acts such as Du Blonde, Dream Wife and Pip Blom.

You might absorb a couple of hooks and riffs and edit it down to your own abridged version, but you’ll be left wanting more than Krol’s willing to provide.

I Have to Feed Larry’s Hawk is something of a messy enigma. Gone are the lo-fi production values and the urgency of early White Fence material, replaced instead by songs that take their time to grow but often miss the target. There are some aural delights here, but also too many instantly forgettable tracks.

In Better Oblivion Community Center, Oberst and Bridgers have made a true collaboration, finding a middle ground between their experiences and styles that is truly fertile. All of this is to say that the surprise of Better Oblivion Community Center may only comprise a few genuine surprises, but even what’s predictable about it is utterly lovable and well worth your time.

Fitting snugly right alongside the likes of Vashti Bunyan and Julie Byrne, Bare is of the class that just may stick with you for a lifetime.

Mystery Hour is a wistful, weird collection that shows once again that break up songs are the best.

As Bazan embraces his current self by looking at his former, we learn the story of his life, and by the time the 14 tracks of Phoenix are over the picture is clear.

Nine of the album’s ten tracks work perfectly well on their own (the dreary ‘Golden Remedy’ is instantly forgettable and turgid), yet as a collection there is something missing. Many of the songs are mid-paced, lacking the verve and energy which Swervedriver are more than capable of conjuring up. It’s a tough album to get through in one sitting due to the crushing melancholy, but there is still much here to be applauded.

Only ‘Peanut Butter’ stands out amongst the morass by dint of its crashing introduction. Even that track eventually settles down into the record’s bloated template. It’s a shame, because there are some lovely moments.

Sonically, Assume Form might be his most approachable album to date, but its emotions are anything but simple.

Love Hates What You Become is an endearing album that earnestly cares about our generation and is admirable because of it.

Remind Me Tomorrow, then, isn’t only a return to her calling, but a grand surprise. Sharon Van Etten has finally, truly, embraced just how appealing her unique voice can be.

The result is an influx of psychedelic mania that ends up enhancing his counterpart’s festering lyrical voyages. Random references and non-sensical metaphors aside, Malibu Ken is proof that abstract hip-hop is very much alive.

Steve Gunn’s music is not showy and it doesn’t attempt to attract attention, despite the expansive and expert playing involved throughout. Like Gunn himself, The Unseen In Between is happy to wait for you to come to it, and if you happen to pass on by, then that’s your loss.

More memorable would be a complete artistic statement that’s further informed by each track. Instead, each song revels in a singular level of creativity and scattershot collaboration, driving us further away from a central theme.

Overall, the first half of Outer Peace sparkles, but there is a disappointing limpness to the second part which suggests that the ideas ran out and two EPs of excellent material could have been produced instead of one album’s worth of work.

Nili Hadida may not attract legions of pop fans, but then, it hardly feels designed to. Hadida is clearly enjoying stretching out on her own at long last, and the album plays a bit like her testing her sea legs on a maiden voyage, finding her footing, and her independent voice, as she goes.

They continue to plough the same furrow as on their previous albums, yet with a little more urgency, consistency and richness that some of their earlier work lacked. There is a simplicity here, both in terms of lyrical content and musicality.

Come at a pace so consistently slow the album's charm begins to ache.