Themes For Television might not be the most dynamic album, but for fans of ambient electronic music it hits the spot.

More restless than Solan Goose, Sule Skerry is always on the move, constantly changing but all the more exciting and compelling for it.

As far as compilations and rarities sets go, this is no cynical cash-in, but neither is it absolutely essential, even for fans of the band. There’s a lot of cool material here that is definitely worth exploring, but nothing that will demand a second listen for anyone other than the most hardcore of fans.

A Pilgrim’s Tale admirably tells of a fascinatingly swashbuckling adventure into history, but in shining a light on the fate of this people it contextualises how so often that history is authored by the victors.

Disclosure have always had an attention to detail in their production that gives the songs that much more depth, be it the irresistible breakdown one minute from the end of Douha (Mali Mali) or the fluttering arpeggios that populate closing track Reverie. And in this respect, as well as songwriting, structure and guest selection, they’re back like they never left.

Minogue more than holds her own here. The sound is largely fresh and pays genuine homage to carefree nights at the disco with gusto, charm and flair, all qualities that Minogue has in spades.

A Billion Little Lights is a good album when heard in isolation, but it pales in comparison to those albums that inspired its creation.

Deploying ominous cinematic pacing and diaphanous harmonics, the transient Kaminari effectively incorporates an illustrative quality reminiscent of Cocteau Twins‘ Liz Frazer, before the Montreal musicians revert back into classic rockabilly mode and on the voyeuristic shuffle of Sarabande, they fixate on the more gonzo hallucinatory aspects of tropicalia and Turkish psych rock.

It is a special piece of work, reaffirming Avery’s position as one of the most consistent and exciting electronic artists at work today. We need to keep him under close observation.

Enjoy The View will undoubtably please the army of existing Jetpacks fans, yet tracks like Fat Chance could well bring in some new fans. Few bands can still sound on top of their game after 18 years or so, but We Were Promised Jetpacks do, and sound like they’re more than ready for the next 18 years too.

Too many of the songs fail to deliver the mind blowing moments that the band have been capable of in the past.

Half of the album’s 12 tracks are under three minutes, leaving no time to get bored, and there’s little to dislike.

Now Or Whenever doesn’t feel like natural progression when held up against Moth Boys and earlier debut Enjoy It While It Lasts from 2012, but its ability to have you singing along in very little time at all is an impressive quality.

When they’re on the game, The Wombats are well capable of turning heads and catching ears (People Don’t Change People, Time Does) and they have a pleasing habit of writing songs that sound remarkably cheerful despite sporting bleak subject matter (Everything I Love Is Going To Die). They’re not always successful.

The lovelorn subject matter is at times overbearing, but nevertheless Homesick is a decent listen from start to finish and its consistency is impressive.

The album rallies later on, as I Love Your Girl and When The Party’s Over are impeccable tunes that more than deserve their place, but Mabel’s dedication to the pure pop that gave her big hits in 2019-20 is now threatening to leave her somewhat faceless.

It all makes for a terrific comeback for a band that have been very much missed over the last few years. As truly entertaining as the title promises, in fact.

Now might be a homely, undemanding listen in places but it’s also rewarding, a set of songs that will certainly appeal to long term fans but one that also deserves wider appreciation. It feels like a classic case of Nash making music for himself and if others enjoy it too, well that’s a bonus.

It’s a pleasing finish to a rather uneven collection. People often say that the first episode of a sit-com is disappointing, and you should skip to the second, which is exactly the approach we propose for this album.

The Forest Is The Path too often sounds like Snow Patrol on autopilot.

Their debut album, Wasted On Youth is, at best, an exercise in earnest revivalism. At worst, it’s just as credible and entertaining as albums by The Ordinary Boys, Towers Of London or The Enemy.

It’s a record that definitely holds rewards for the patient listener, but it’s also one that cries out for a judicious pair of editing scissors.

As a mini-EP of ‘new’ material, these musically diverse tracks are strong enough to make you yearn for the fifth album which will probably never come.

There is much to admire here the more you listen, the more it will grow on you.

After this blisteringly good start, Cardinology settles down into a languid country-rock groove - beautiful at times, intensely listenable and professional, but probably not breaking any new ground.

Still Living is an unobjectionable album, and any of its songs, taken individually, are certainly a fine soundtrack to the final lazy days of summer. As a whole, though, Still Living barely limps along, only occasionally revealing flashes of semi-greatness, and it ultimately falls victim to its own aesthetics.

By creating a world so comic-book vivid, each track stands and walks in its own desolate, saturnine world. But it's a world where the dead want to be alive and the alive would rather be dead. The creation of warped minds, Salem just made a monster.

Throwing a light on the minutiae of his fraying psyche doesn’t always make for the easiest of listens. No longer buoyed by adolescent concerns, Alec Ounsworth may not be in the happiest of states. But if you heed closely you’ll hear the sound of one man’s combing for moral redemption amidst societal and individual collapse. And that deserves applause.