If the album takes fewer side roads than long-term fans may be used to, it also rewards repeat listening, revealing a little more each time. They may have covertly tucked their idiosyncrasies behind an accessible sound, but their unique vision remains.

Boss Hog still thrill, still hint at a better future. Just one that comes before 2034 you’d hope.

Like the 1999 film Magnolia that earned Mann an Oscar nomination, Mental Illness would make a similarly engrossing mosaic of stories for the big screen.

Finding inspiration in the current climate, Taylor has created a modern blues masterpiece for troubled times.

Like its clumsy title, this release finds itself falling between two stools; stuck in mid-Atlantic, perhaps. It does have its moments, but may fail to win new converts.

Though recording since the 90s, Nichols seems to have found his feet by blending his lifelong country, soul, hip-hop and reggae influences then capturing them on tape with the southern soul intimacy of Tony Joe White.

A lot of the morsels are unremittingly 80s in flavour, which leaves them divided into sassy material that still works, a few oddments, and a significant minority that are almost unpalatable, and which could probably be dated down to the day they were recorded, they’re so of their time.

Deceptively simple, Cocker’s economical narratives sit atop Gonzalez’s evocative ivories, drawing you in with their intimacy, like an old rummy spilling the beans.

Iif you’re not in on the joke, the album might fall flat sporadically. Still, taken with the right level of salt, ICC is a brave, bold and multi-faceted experience that can knock one’s socks clean off.

Both songs [Stained Glass and Same Sun] lack that extra dynamic, and instead plod along in somewhat tepid one-dimensionality. Somehow, though, that doesn’t break the dreamy, wistful spell of the album as a whole.

With these band versions, Oberst seems more removed, drowned out by unnecessary country embellishments that only dilute the passion and emotion of the originals. That’s not to say these are bad, but they just aren’t quite as heart-stoppingly, heartbreakingly brilliant. Less, as it turns out, can be much more.

If Condition does not herald a radical artistic reincarnation, it does involve a subtler devolution into a slightly more primitive form.

Spoon have been together for over 20 years now, yet it’s clear from this ninth full-length that their inspiration remains plentiful. In fact, Hot Thoughts is a surge of vivid creativity that veers between straightforward indie-pop and more experimental art pop.

BJM’s 16th full-length begins with a sublime eight-minute krautrock corker and doesn’t get any less fun from there.

60s references, bloody mindedness, affairs of the heart and a whole ton of drug references make for a perfect storm. But what comes through clearest is the agelessness of the music they make.

Some tracks inspire more amusement than may perhaps have been intended.

One minute solid as a rock, the next seemingly in flux, Solide Mirage reveals itself anew with each listen: fleeting glimpses at a map into unknown territory.

After starting with a deathly gripping take on Motherless Child, his supernatural countertenor beautifully holds its own over the luminescent backdrops throughout, showing how charisma, soul and delivery score any time over technique. Pure class.

With its subtle and strange arrangements, Be Ok is a most engaging listen.

Genuinely touching tunes such Driving and Tomorrow add a layer of depth and will help fend off inevitable accusations of ironic retroism, but Delicate Steve’s core appeal will always be that of good times all the time.

It all adds up to a life well-lived, in affecting songs.

The track’s second half building gradually--if not as gradually as their less condensed recordings – to a more dramatic finale. In comparison, dronesome pair Overhear and Rise feel a little underwhelming.

Melancholy levels are high--but that’s a distraction, as beneath this motif is a wealth of songwriting nous that continues to set Mercer apart from his peers.

In short, sharp bursts, this approach [bubblegum-flavoured power-pop enhanced by youthful, punky vigour] remains a winner, though as Courtneys II’s samey second side reveals, it can just as easily sound formulaic.

Singer John Paul Pitts explains there are also other heavy themes on this record, varying from mental illness to car accidents. But still the sunniness pervades. Ironically perhaps, Snowdonia is a summery sounding record, produced in a time that could easily have called for a deep freeze for Surfer Blood.

Their first live album captures Brownstein and her bandmates Corin Tucker, Janet Weiss and new touring member Katie Harkin ripping rapidly through a selection of their strongest material, the sabbatical years having drained none of their finesse or ferocity.

Woolf Works, like SLEEP, is instantly accessible, its noise and careful hand holding often startlingly modern and never once patronising. A thing of beauty.

A covert moral conscience underpins Williamson’s lyrics, in among the barbed and barbarous wit, the austere reportage, the vitriolic calumny and the pop-culture detritus: and, almost despite itself, the scattergun English Tapas can’t help but represent a telling state-of-the-nation address.