No Shape is awkward, full of weird sounds that shouldn’t fit together but do.

Vocally he’s still capable of making the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. The rougher edges and more aggressive attack that coloured his early performances might not be so much in evidence, but what he lacks in rawness, he makes up for with sheer soul.

Occasionally, as on Carolina or Only Angel, it dips into bland pastiche, but generally this is a fine solo effort from, lest we forget, one of the most famous twentysomethings on the planet.

Thin Black Duke should be regarded as a genuinely innovative and exciting piece of art.

This is a beautiful album, a lovely complement to the best of the Penguin Cafe Orchestra and a strong statement on the part of the new generation, reaching greater emotional depths and expanding the structures impressively. The penguin isn’t out of its comfort zone after all.

While there’s nothing on Electric Lines to match the heart-stopping brilliance of Gabriel or even be as sheer fun as much of The 2 Bears record was, it will satisfyingly sate anyone who feels they’ve been waiting too long for a new Hot Chip album.

It feels like a satisfyingly natural progression, but brave all the same. Because his first album was a big deal.

Crying Out Loud offers plenty of confirmation that Kasabian are in rude musical health.

The result is her most satisfying and unified album to date.

This is an album comfortably on a par with the work of most of the younger artists they’ve influenced; compelling proof that the original shoegazers have stood the test of time remarkably well.

Gargoyle is yet another fantastic album from Mark Lanegan, and one that points to a new path.

Americana is consistently melodic and witty, even if its mellowness sometimes verges on the sedate so that you fancy a burst of garage-guitar power chords from “baby brother” Dave to fire things up a bit. It’s an impressive comeback.

With so many talented people involved, Humanz was always going to have its moments, and it is undoubtedly an engaging, intriguing and bold record. Yet when compared to Demon Days or Plastic Beach, one cannot help but feel just a little underwhelmed by the songs here.

What Gnod has done with Just Say No is to keep their statements brief and ally them to a handful of bone-crushing and thrilling sonic vistas. Sometimes a catchy slogan and a fucking huge riff is all you need.

It’s encouraging to find Kid Koala beginning to push the envelope and explore new territory, and these transmissions from the satellite heart are a fine starting point for future adventures.

Musically there is little to remember, lyrically some of this is challenging to forget. For a 19-year wait, this is a mild payoff indeed.

Spirit is, ironically enough, sometimes lacking in that, with a few too many downbeat, mid-tempo brooding numbers for comfort. For a soundtrack to a revolution, we’re going to need to party more.

Yet another album of utter genius in a stylistic vein that nobody in their right minds would have predicted from Ulver.

It’s true that he’s certainly earned the right to pursue his artistic vision. It’s just a shame that this only partly inspired slog isn’t a little more, well, entertaining.

In a world where Ed Sheeran and Drake are pretty much sharing the entire Top 20 singles chart, an album as wildly experimental and as much damn fun as this one is should be required listening.

This is a quietly powerful, and intensely beautiful, record whose contemplations will bed themselves in your mind and hopefully move you towards caring about the issues raised as deeply as she clearly does.

A record that marks a wholly welcome return to form.

Silver Eye is undoubtedly a masterfully crafted, emotionally rich and enjoyable record.

All in, this is a strong if straightforward album packed with effective if safe earworms, albeit from someone whose very name suggests twists and turns.

It’s credit to her that within the congested realm of electronic music her record stands proudly distinct, as it is both danceable and meditative music with genuine heart. And with that Kelly Lee Owens has made a more than promising debut.

Locus, then, is an intriguing beast, one that enjoys experimentation but doesn’t forget to please its listener through driving rhythms, colourful sonics and powerful musical statements that might be derivative but are a sharp blow to the consciousness, especially if heard loud on headphones.

Jawbone certainly has an interesting sonic palette, but like most soundtracks it really needs the accompanying moving images to make it complete.

Last Place is anachronistically introverted, and its tech references don’t quite make sense in the context of 2017. If it’s understood as a more human album then it works, but it is held back a little by the vestiges of the earlier, broken down and burnt out, Grandaddy.