Expands Pigs’ palette further.

Amid all the proto-ambient wash is much soul and even funk, albeit of a lo-fi variety.

Producer Glyn Johns captures a laconic, organic vibe throughout, aided by such top-notch players as Ryan Adams, Gillian Welch and David Rawlings, on an album that oozes good taste and effortless class.

The results are very pleasing indeed, from the mean faith-bating blues of Face Of God to the howling prairie wisdom of Wind Don’t Have To Hurry, the nononsense declaration of love, Marlene, to the hobo jazz of the title track.

Produced by David Foster, it’s largely tremendous fun, even if the path on which it walks is rather well worn.

Melancholy without being depressing and intensely dramatic, De Biasio proves here on this superlative nine-song collection that No Deal was no fluke.

Suddenly is at its best when blending head, heart and feet to make another smart party album – among Caribou’s best yet.

The sigh of relief provoked by Doom Or Destiny morphs into a mile-wide smile as Pollinator unfurls some of the most resonant music Blondie have recorded during their second phase.

It’s a record to fall in love with.

It is a salve, and a beautiful, mysterious thing, which doesn’t necesarily need to be anything more than a beautiful, mysterious thing, however many hours of labour and technical nous have been spent crafting it.

It could run the risk of being a bit of a patchwork in its revolving styles and cast of five vocalists, but it works perfectly in being an ensemble creation that taps into a hazy nostalgia vibe.

After a handful of stirring ballads set to create further communal festival experiences, Here Is Everything peaks with Magic, golden funk worthy of Odelay-era Beck. The album cover depicts singer Jules Jackson during her pregnancy: her band have given birth to something magical here.

There’s a gleefully brash use of whatever’s at hand that recalls the one-man-band approach to his solo debut, Yr Atal Genhedlaeth, but American Interior is also a far better exploration of Americana than Super Furry Animals’ Love Kraft turned out to be.

Rattle That Lock is a small, intimate album that maintains Gilmour’s impeccably tasteful quality threshold throughout.

Love Is Magic feels like three shredded albums spliced back together. But it’s nutritious, colourful and occasionally funeral-level mournful, an emotional pick’n’mix that, by its very nature, increasingly repays revisits.

Ultimately, it may not include anything that will endure as long as some of his Wings classics, let alone the Fabs’, but it’s a powerful and persuasive album from a man whose innate knack for melody is still firing.

This is very grown-up pop music; awash with the memorable hooks and lyrical dexterity we’d expect from Costello, with layer after layer of fascinating melodic conceits and themes.

The predictability of Alone In The Universe is its strongest suit, these are all cast-iron songs that will sit on an ELO retrospective beamed down from that spaceship in 10538 and nobody would imagine they were released 40 years after their golden age.

In short, if you collect Jansch you won’t regret investing in these for a second. If you’re new to him, you’ll find a musical universe opening before you.

It all adds up to reaffirm that The Unthanks are among the most quietly accomplished groups around.

All This I Do For Glory is a triumph of ingenuity, a genuinely experimental work that echoes with the multi-faceted cries of the human soul.

Cooper ventures further out, navigating abstract naval routes plotted by lonely hearts and plagued by daydreams, his tides of burbling static and deftly deployed lap-steel influenced by the solitary missions of real-life sea salts such as Vital Alsar and William Willis, their adventures a certain metaphor for Cooper’s own singular musical path.

Feels Like A New Morning is an apt title, because verve and a freshly recovered confidence seep from the Blow Monkeys’ eighth studio set.

Ones And Sixes sees Low churning out some of their most accessible work, with What Part Of Me having the potential to be an unlikely hit. As ever, strong stuff in every way.

Happily, it’s been worth the wait as Silver Bullets is fresh, exhilarating and the most essential Chills LP since the critically acclaimed Submarine Bells.

As it stands, Reflektor is Arcade Fire’s most diverse and sonically interesting work to date.

He’s still doing his thing but goes deeper when he digs (It’s A Jungle Out There’s litany of modernity’s failings), he’s more wicked when he picks a target (white privilege on Brothers), and is still pushing the boundaries of his craft (all of it).

On new album Daylight, Black’s voice is often less strident than it used to be, though she can still raise the roof in the chorus of songs like Pass The Power. She’s as fearsomely committed as ever, but there’s an agreeably lush sheen over the band’s blend of ska, reggae and pop.