It’s true that Quilt have tightened their sound and clearly production values are high across the whole of Plaza. But sadly, in lieu of a more unified sound or approach, their music might be doomed to be like an actual quilt--with all the filling annoyingly on one side.

Other highlights, such as the Ngoni-driven Kenia, the desert blues of Tu Voles and an atmospheric take on Nina Simone’s haunting lament Strange Fruit confirm that she is an artist still very much at the top of her game.

Yet, while neo does hark back to the logger-heavy, plaid-clad revolution from the Pacific North-West, it rarely sounds wearily derivative.

Despite its noir inflections, it’s a lighter, at times impish, and vibrantly melodic, album. Wherever it takes us, we’re likely to enjoy the ride.

Helmed by ex-Primal Scream and My Bloody Valentine producer Brian O’Shaughnessy, the band’s second release, Everybody’s Dying To Meet You is a shade more confident and fully-realised.

Despite its sheen and icy edge, the album proves that Dan Sartain is one of music’s great personalities; a little unhinged maybe, talented definitely, but never dull and never treading water.

A sparse recreation of her hymnal Second Sight from a previous album, This Coming Gladness, sums up the sound: unorthodox, riveting. Fantástico.

There’s a time and place for material this demanding of the listeners’ attention, and it does take repeated listens for the album to really make sense, but when the mood fits, Painting Is hits the spot like only they can.

The band doesn’t come off sounding as distinctive as Gane’s most praised ensemble, but there’s certainly potential in abundance.

It’s a consistent and intermittently inspired set but while it flows seamlessly throughout, the strident Roll It and intricate, Before Hollywood-esque Don’t Be Right are arguably the keepers here.

The album doesn’t stray far from the pop template established by early single Chinatown; only now there’s a more self-assured swagger, backed with clear and confident production.

It certainly sounds like an album collaged over five years in various places around the world. But there are no contemporaries for this sound, and they hit their mark often, that moment where all the dried pasta shapes, buttons and string turn into a surprisingly lucid portrait of a band happy to try everything at once.

Emotional Mugger might be the very first glimmer of repetition in Segall’s collector-boggling discography. Enjoyable, chaotic, but occasionally lumpen and familiar.

While it isn’t without its moments, that is not enough to forgive the sub-standard R’&’B and lumpy rock crossovers.

While the musical performances are expert, the real appeal of the record lies with Friedberger.

Throughout, this is the sound of three world-class talents raising their respective games, as if trying to keep up with each other, creating something far greater even than the sum of their world-class parts.

A definite return to form, it’s not 24-carat gold all the way through but there are more than enough nuggets to keep old fans happy and attract some new ones.

The album does have its moodier moments, Hate on--easily the best track on the album--features a strong meditative groove, oddball sax, razor-sharp guitar chords and luscious harmonies. Along with the final track, it hints at a depth that is sadly not fully explored. Nevertheless, this album is a lot of fun.

With seamless storytelling through its 34 songs, magical moments of intricate instrumental interplay abound, magnified by an orchestra and massed choirs, while a template for the staging of a musical production sees the principals realising a grandiose next-step in their creative development.

Bonnie’s smoky take of the INXS funker Need You Tonight and a rollicking version of Los Lobos’s Shakin’ Shakin’ Shakes. Another Grammy on the way? That would almost certainly seem to be the case.

Only the hushed Living Lux, which closes the album in delicate velvet drifts, escapes unscathed. It is, sadly, not enough to give Bloc Party redemption.

A couple of duds: No Monsters telegraphs its Lennon-esque references, while England & America is pointless dad-rock. Everything else works.

There are moments of genius here and there, so do investigate if you find yourself humming Lil’ Devil from time to time.

By the time The Morning Is Waiting appears, all glorious awakenings in pianos and strings, the album begins to feel triumphant. The elation continues to the end, with the funk returning in spades for Same Name, before closer Stay Awake warms you up to start over.

Without You, Death To The Lovers and We Are The Flames--showcase Skin’s still-gobsmacking voice and will be welcomed by fans of earlier, underrated heartstring- pluckers like Infidelity (Only You) from the 1996 album Stoosh. The rest of the album is much rowdier, powered by Cass Lewis’s immense, distorted bass and punk-indebted riffs from unsurnamed guitarist Ace.

At times, there is an element of either hesitance or a deliberately low-key style at work here, but one feels that upon picking up the requisite fans, this could combine with the music’s welling elements to translate into some quite emotional concerts.

While it’s certainly soundtrack material, anyone with good taste would, for instance, go for the original Strauss and Ligeti over this album’s Hollywood light music take on Hal… and dare we say it, anyone with good taste should know not to attempt the latter.

Although at times it underwhelms, at its best this album absolutely convinces and leaves no doubt as to the ability of its creator.