This disc represents a decent, very listenable attempt at updating that picture. It is however, a relatively small album, overlooked both by predecessors from the new wave era and by more recent, lofty stadium takes on the sound.

He’s been compared to Damien Jurado and while the stylistic link is accurate, Knight is more defined by an urge to experiment. This may be too enigmatic for some but perseverance is repaid during the extrovert moments on The Arp.

While The Waiting Room is not Tindersticks’ greatest album, it might be the one that best signifies how this project is an ongoing one, that the sum of all the band’s work is greater than any individual passages. That they’re playing the long game; waiting.

It’s that kind of affair: fine in parts but far too eclectic for its own good. Collins remains in fine fettle, though, and the choices are fair enough given her Broadway pedigree and eye for a standard.

The lines are blurred, but there’s no court ruling on whether this is cynical appropriation or genuine homage.

An instrumental, Pecket’s Well, highlights the beauty and lyricism of his solo guitar, but the real worth here lies in lyrics that offer listeners clear descriptors of Tilston’s concerns, such as the warnings for mankind encompassed in Running Out Of Road.

The whole caboodle comes to an interesting end with Neil Young’s Cortez The Killer. An unexpected change of pace, its seven minutes of mid-tempo atmospheric desert rock is wholly at odds with everything that preceded it.

The joy of this collaboration lies in Wells’ music. It’s a more varied affair than its predecessor.

Snatches of fuzzy guitar, banjo and fiddle drift through, but the main thrust is in the singing, Carthy providing the lucid top notes while her partner is adept at shadowing her with huskier harmony.

The claims these guys make of being an “anti-band” are redundant in light of how clean and complex Early Risers is, but, on the whole, it’s oddly unmemorable.

The opening song Love Is, which he sings with a touch of the Gaelic, could almost be a track by The Waterboys and might easily soundbed one of those ghastly Irish cider ads where implausibly airbrushed Hibernians flaunt their trendy facial hair. He recovers from this false start to concentrate on some ex-pat musings with a side order of standard US FM rock punctuated with bursts of mariachi on Please.

This new compilation focuses on projects she released under her own name plus sundry collaborations, remixes and assorted feature spots. Above all else, this 34-track assemblage highlights the fact that Thorn’s trajectory has been an unpredictable and surprising one.

Chorus collects Lush’s entire back catalogue and presents it bound in a beautiful hardback book. Its contents remain highly desirable too.

For while it’s hard to begrudge any quality new release by a band of Beach House’s eminence, for a fan base still attuning itself to the subtle charms of Depression Cherry, this flawed follow-up might have been better served up refined and polished at a later date.

Whether all this is owing to a slight change in line-up (on bass and violin) or just increased confidence, it’s impossible to tell, but whatever the reason, Lanterns On The Lake are shining more brightly.

With BJ Cole on pedal steel, backing vocals by Gillian Welch and Bernie Leadon alongside numerous other top notch contributors, there is no doubting the quality of the music on offer.

Angels & Ghosts won’t draw you in immediately and it does contain several lumbering, repetitive tracks that neither move nor entertain. But after a few listens, you may begin to see the light.

This is an exquisite interpretation of an exceptional album.

West Kirby County Primary sounds like it was recorded anywhere but. It’s a beautifully performed and produced record, tender, intimate and close, yet with moments of real physical power.

With just a couple of standout tracks, this isn’t earth-shattering stuff--but it will resonate with existing Warpaint admirers, introducing Lindberg’s intoxicating siren call and reminding of the unique potency of her pin-sharp bass playing.

The cumulative effect is one of a dizzy America, and one that would make even less sense if ever unpicked. Much like the Americana of McCombs; gloriously messy.

While some will still view the album as a 30-minute intro to a track that never starts, others will want to pull this cacophonous duvet up to their chins and luxuriate in what might just be the most sumptuous, atmospheric and varied SunnO))) album to date.

While the music is frequently revelatory, capturing the post-Cale line-up chilled and stretching out, as on the 40-minute Sister Ray with Lou’s guitar on overdrive, most tracks have appeared before; on 1974’s 1969 Live, 2001’s The Quine Tapes and the third album reissue.

Live In Paris 2014 is a superb introduction for the uninitiated, as well as a welcome souvenir for the experienced. Warm, potent, invigorating and liberating--it’s difficult to imagine a better live band existing this side of the Sahara.

It’s certainly a series of striking and original composites, if a slightly meta one.

It’s A Holiday Soul Party is both celebratory and socially astute, comprising originals and traditional songs.

This reissue fails to add much to entice fans other than packaging.... Anybody hoping for a dramatic discovery of a high-quality version of this long-bootlegged show [ Live At Second Fret, Philadelphia, 1970] will be disappointed; it’s hard to discern any real improvement from the frustratingly bad quality of the circulated boot.

It’s only when the tracks pass all-too quickly in a live-sounding, bass heavy blur that Modern Dancing feels anything less than exhilarating.