Earthling gives an uplifting sense of the creative energy shared between Eddie Vedder and his keenly empathetic collaborators, distilled into striking, memorable songs, and unified by a fresh, cohesive sound. On this evidence, it’s to be hoped the partnership forges ahead as the day jobs allow.

They build their own world. Eventually you grasp its shrewdly filtered emotion and want to live there, too.

It finds House on spine-chilling form with clear vocals and stunning slide guitar on tracks such as Pony Blues, Preachin’ Blues and Death Letter. The re-mastering, courtesy of The Black Keys frontman Dan Auerbach, is also superb.

Fever Dreams Pts 1-4 is some great reward for the Marr faithful, a hope-fuelled 16-song set mounted on a generous, expansive balance of scope and detail.

It’s an album blazing with a refulgent light that illuminates the darkness. Ultimately, it’s a cathartic celebration of life co-created by someone who’s survived a traumatic experience. More importantly, it shows how heartbreak, suffering and tragedy can be refashioned into transcendent art.

[Eddie Piller] doesn’t sequence chronologically; his approach is more scattershot, with the emphasis on listening experience rather than presenting a history lesson. But 60s mod in all its rainbow colours is represented.

As well as drawing more liberally from the likes of My Bloody Valentine and the Cocteau Twins, this time they’ve woven into the mix some 80s synth-pop motifs (Masquerade could be Duran Duran circa 1982), but the overall effect remains as bewitching as ever.

The Overload is quite the debut.

Between the weather-worn blues reflections of Hard Times and the euphoric lift of closer Coalinga, the sense emerges of a band rediscovering their footing, a little saddle-sore but riding tall once more.

Sublimely crafted, incredibly well-played, there are all the reference points, yet it never sounds like a composite of old glories. The intelligence, urgency and immediacy of his 32nd album are a most welcome surprise.

Stylistically, Marshall’s “less is more” minimalism ensures Covers sounds remarkably cohesive, making it, as ever, a totally immersive listen.

From its bossa nova kick to its slabs of heavy organ, Kofi Psych sounds like an attempt to conjure The Doors’ Break On Through (To The Other Side) from a half-remembered conversation, while Say The Truth bears unlikely fruit from its cross-pollination of highlife rhythms, celestial early prog and The Strawberry Alarm Clock. Sadly, Essilfie-Bondzie died as this compilation was in the works but, as this set often shows, his legacy is assured.

Maybe after the stresses and strains of the past couple of years we need a familiar embrace to soothe away our pain. Raise The Roof fits the bill, even if it might win fewer prizes for originality than its predecessor.

An album of adroitly chosen covers and something more. Poke around in its shadows and the songs often investigate the idea of putting on a front as a kind of catharsis, their ravaged depths trawled for high drama.

Her artistry had never been so robust. As the earlier, more mournful In Concert version of Carey shows, Mitchell would dig deep in the studio to find a euphoric vocal that causes the song to soar. ... For Mitchell at this stage, then, nothing was ever truly a failure, but more an opportunity to take her art to new heights.

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.

While the Toy highlight Shadow Man introduces “… a man back a-ways/Who believes at where he is”, at this stage of his career, David Bowie could reflect on where he’d been with pride – including, as Brilliant Adventures shows, another decade of committing to himself.

It’s one of those evocative retrospectives whose true worth exceeds monetary value. ... American Dreamer spotlights an uncompromising visionary who created music on her own terms and paved the way for Joni Mitchell, Kate Bush and Tori Amos and many more of today’s female singer-songwriters.

It reveals The War On Drugs at their most song-conscious and streamlined. The epic, immersive, unfurling tracks that have become a Granduciel trademark are notably absent (Granduciel says he abandoned a 32-minute jam track). Psychedelic flourishes are few and far between. Many tracks boast a hitherto unheard immediacy: prominent synths, unabashed choruses, and big-sounding songs.

The Specials, once more, fashioning a compelling soundtrack to troubled times past and present.

Buckingham has crafted a solid rather than seismic affair.

Crosby’s voice takes you flying back down the decades yet without ever longing for past glories.

Their 14th album rakes over the wreckage and emerges as a generous, deeply humane mission statement: it’s an album of profound melancholy, of course, but also one lit up with heroic, big-pop colour. Ultra-vivid indeed.

Songs such as the joyous To Be Loved (classic couplet, “Each day feels like a weekend when you’re around”) shows that, in her eighth decade, Joan Armatrading CBE is far from resting on past achievements.

A fine testament to one of soul’s major labels, and a must-have.

Despite the general autumnal mood, the easy-going charm of Oval is worlds away from Almond’s rumbling menace. It’s all compelling enough to keep drawing listeners back for the next 14 years. Magnificent.

The rockier songs have a vague whiff of Faith No More’s deepest cuts, or even the lurching noir-rock of Tomahawk. ... On the poppier moments he flaunts his range more confidently than ever. There’s a lot to take in. ... Few bands remain so interesting for so long. The adventure continues.

Between its playful, retro-electro settings and the murky presentiments of Marling’s allusive lyrics, Animal paints outside the lines of LUMP’s debut carefully, never suffocating the intuitive strangeness at its heart.