It’s the longer pieces that really glisten, and they come in several forms. ... Moore’s band, it should be noted, sound increasingly powerful, growing ever groovier and more confident with each release. Their guitars may have unusual tunings, but the players are certainly in-tune with one another, mentally and musically speaking. In summary, cacophonies ahoy!

A joyous blend of dumb fun and sonic smarts with the talent that Stevens has been peddling for nearly 20 years to glue them together, this feels a fresh start in a career that didn’t exactly need one. Somehow, a wonderful surprise. Wow.

More than the sum of its parts. ... In returning to half-finished songs of the past with the renewed verve of the present, Callahan is constructing a future that looks likely to provide some of his best work.

From the off, Flaming Pie sounds like the work of a man comfortable with his past. ... The 2CD and 3LP sets will appeal to those not willing to shell out hundreds – they cherry-pick the best of the home demos, outtakes and B-sides.

Heart’s Ease is ample evidence that Shirley Collins still has the ambition, passion and guts to not only document where folk has come from but where it’s going. A lodestar, indeed.

It pulses with synths and electronic soundscapes overlaid by harp and violin, as if the early, experimental Pulp re-emerged as an electro Velvet Underground.

You can almost smell Power’s building confidence throughout. Melodies boast a previously little-seen directness, while somehow retaining their delicacy.

As with any Car Seat Headrest record, there’s always a whisper of a phrase, or an unusual lyric that passes you by and later stops you in your tracks. Likewise, there are plenty of musical layers and varied instrumentation that draw your ears one way and another.

What continues to both disarm and comfort about Williams as she glides into her late 60s on the crest of an extraordinary career now entering its fourth decade, is how adept she remains at shifting mood, tone, emotion and musical palette at the drop of a plectrum

Among the burning forests and boiling oceans, it's reassuring to know that raw beauty can still be found within the groove of vinyl, of which this--the Newcastle band's fourth long-player--provides rich evidence. [Mar 2020, p.110]

Over the course of an hour, Straight Songs unloads a lifetime of pain. But there is a happy ending to this story. Whereas much of the album has him merely “hanging on”, by Eden Lost And Found – a track built from a mobile phone recording of his wife messing around with an old Casio keyboard – he has embraced survival and moves towards his new dawn with, if not quite piranha teeth, then a mischievous, Cheshire cat grin.

Song For Our Daughter is, well, so uncannily, unreasonably and astutely beautiful that it meticulously sets aside every last one of your emotional checks and balances to wrap your core in a firm embrace.

Suddenly is at its best when blending head, heart and feet to make another smart party album – among Caribou’s best yet.

Expands Pigs’ palette further.

His knack for alchemising an engrossing trip hasn’t deserted him yet.

The Night Chancers tackles big themes within tight restrictions – namely, masculinity at the start of the 2020s. But though filmic in its scope, these 10 vignettes are economically plotted (the album is just 30 minutes long), with a through-line that takes you just far enough before leaving you to your own conclusions about these characters’ motives.

This marvellous set captures every funky, florid facet of their initial golden run in the spirit in which it was created.

Even if Clapton is the only member surviving to see it, at last they get to say goodbye on a suitably representative monument.

Mavis Staples is an international musical treasure, and here you’ll find the recordings that cemented her standing as a living legend.

It’s Allison’s ongoing development as a songwriter that really shines here. Clean now feels like preparation for the emotional and musical strength of this record: a quiet acknowledgment of the tough times that life throws at you.

Mind Hive is especially groundbreaking. In fact, several of its best tracks (the restless, motorik drive of Cactused and the jagged, staccato bursts of the menacing, 154-ish Be Like Them) quite openly flirt with familiarity. Yet, as always seems to be the case with this crew, these tunes are invested with enviable reserves of contemporary energy which ensure they’re served up fresh and minus the merest hint of parody.

It’s a lot to take in, and fresh corridors reveal themselves with each listen; it’s questionable whether they lead to any answers, and Fay would be the last person to claim they do, but it’s an intriguing exploration every step of the way.

The generosity of the endeavour can’t be faulted: hours on end of largely unheard/unseen audio-visual content relating to the era encompassing A Momentary Lapse Of Reason, The Division Bell, Pulse and The Endless River, new 5.1 mixes, a 60-page photo book, replica tour programmes, two 7” singles featuring a Pulse tour rehearsal version of Lost For Words and the 2007 Syd Barrett tribute concert version of Arnold Layne… and, ye gods, even more.

16 Lovers Lane arguably even shades the triumphant Liberty Belle… when it comes to defining the Go-Betweens apogee. The extras, meanwhile, are both plentiful and tantalising.

Hearing these oddly innocent songs (and his speaking voice) can’t help but reignite that overwhelming sense of loss, and also wonder, since Bowie passed on nearly three years ago: has any artist been so loved or missed by so many? Even with all its frolics, fumbles, filler and foibles, Conversation Piece can only be welcomed and celebrated.

There’s rich pleasure everywhere you look: Peter Case’s heartfelt delivery of I Don’t Worry About A Thing, a spectral The Way Of The World by Anything Mose! and Taj Mahal’s nimble, forceful version of the sardonic opener, Your Mind Is On Vacation. The latter offers a thrilling pointer about how high we are going to fly, and includes Bonnie Raitt’s stunning version of Everybody’s Cryin’ Mercy, where her passionate take skilfully unfurls the raging force underpinning the song. Elsewhere, there are blasts of controlled power such as Ben Harper/Charlie Musselwhite’s fiery take on Nightclub.

The charm of Thanks For The Dance can be found in the tidemark between the lapping waves of Cohen’s poetic self-effacement and the shoreline of our appreciation for his lyrical accomplishments.

As the original album did for Prince’s artistic progression, so this super deluxe edition does for the posthumous reissue series: refine a vision, making good on all the promises of the past while pointing to a future full of possibilities. Whatever expanded edition comes next, if it builds on this it cannot fail.