The album certainly wears its influences on its (parka) sleeve but does so while maintaining a freshness and uplifting charm that carries the songs as they zip along. Putting the somewhat clichéd lyrics aside – although it’s not as though listeners generally flock to Liam Gallagher for Significant Meaning – there is plenty to savour.

He channels snippets into new compositions played over an 808 with some rudimentary vintage synths, evoking memories of his teenage past sitting alongside a radio with fingers tentatively poised on play and record.

Throughout the curation of his archives, all but two of these recordings – that slower Sedan Delivery and the regretful Too Far Gone – have already been released elsewhere, across original albums and newly restored collections, making this official Chrome Dreams an exercise in fan service that would have been a worthy Record Store Day title – or, we hope, an indication that the Archives Vol III box set is approaching.

Here he’s just one of the gang, trading songs and in-jokes with singer-songwriter Jeff Blackburn, Moby Grape bassist Bob Mosley and drummer Johnny Craviotto, his wiry lead guitar slicing through the good-ole-boys’ country-rock.

Inhaler avoid difficult second album problems by sounding more like they’re on a confident fourth record.

A take on the Star-Spangled Banner provides a waymarker here, but its playful cadence offers little warning of the unholy commotion to come.

After a 39-year hiatus, Altered Images pick up more or less where they left off with Mascara Streakz, a perfectly retro-fitted album, with enough of the modern added to retain interest.

Daniel Kessler’s guitar lines remain inventively distinctive, but a gentleness now exudes from Paul Banks’ voice, and his pseudo-absurdist lyrics consider that things might not be so bad after all.

If Everything Now’s readings of media-age malaise leant towards the grindingly obvious, WE is a partial improvement, give or take singer Win Butler’s occasional clunking takes on modern-life exhaustion.

Previous looks to companionship and melody as bulwarks, from Talk To Me Talk To Me’s “ecstasy of company” to Come On Home’s buoyant spritz and A World Without You’s show of constancy.

Founder guitarist Pye Hastings and long-serving multi-instrumentalist Geoff Richardson lead a new line-up through 10 tracks that tick many boxes without threatening the iconic status of 70s classics such as In The Land Of Grey And Pink.

Buckingham has crafted a solid rather than seismic affair.

Anger suits Garbage’s most recognisable mode, often on forceful display here: dense, layered noise, all buzzsaw guitars, harsh electronics and industrial clatter. Yet there’s sonic variety.

Though some of the high-tech production gadgetry sounds dated now, back in 1985 it was a fiercely contemporary record. But while time might have blunted its cutting edge, Rubberband, for all its flaws, still fascinates.

The 10CD version is a patchy collection of familiar highlights and sometimes enjoyable outtakes.

So, yes, good album, with some obligatory pratfalls, very few longeurs and several quality flashes of the innate melodic gift that, after all, put him precisely where he is. During those best bits, the “he’s 76, after all” qualifier becomes utterly redundant.

Only on the opening cut do they attempt anything that could be construed as radical, marrying The Two Sisters, a child ballad with roots stretching back to the 16th century, to a Scottish jig, A Fisherman’s Song For Attracting Seals. It works beautifully, as do all of the following eight tracks, delivered with reverence and entirely free of pretension.

The best moments recall Dan Sartain, a man whose moustachioed fashion victim look Pearson seems to have lifted, but whose freewheeling punk rockacountrybilly essence he hasn’t quite distilled.

There’s not much more than half-an-hour of original material here, but there’s a quality to the stories in these songs.

There’s a nervous energy throughout, as if his whole wide world might collapse at any second. Yet, at the heart of the sonic mayhem is his ever-dependable literacy, a knack for a tidy little phrase that rings with truth above the fuzz and feedback of his guitar.

Occasional MOR slumps aside, most of Resistance comes sharpened by the Manics’ innate extremes of intelligence and instinct, populist extroversion and prickly introspection, melody and over-stretched meter.

10 are less than two minutes and only one is of any substantial length--the last track and best one. This makes it a slightly stop/start stumbling score, one that never really settles and gets going.

It’s all very polished, if hardly challenging.

Boarding House is schizophrenic in the extreme. Despite being spawned in said room, later work has over-egged the pudding. While certain sections of songs work, they’re quickly thrown back into a maelstrom of hip-hop drums, Oh Sees squawks, fine gospel vocals from The McCrary Sisters and vintage synths.

A winning melange of tinny disco beats, retro-futuristic textures and layers of synth, it’s by far their most cohesive work to date; in its less inspired moments it feels literally (and presumably intentionally) monotonous, but at its best it’s an immersive, absorbing listen.

It’s all fine enough, but doesn’t leave much of a lasting impression.

The supergroup does actually sound like something from the late 60s Swedish “progg” scene complete with flute toots and floaty vocals.

Completing a trilogy alongside 2010’s Valleys Of Neptune and 2013’s People, Hell And Angels (both of which went Top 5 in the US), it’s clear there’s still a hunger for Hendrix’s unheard back pages. Both Sides Of The Sky is arguably the most satisfying meal of the three.