It’s an absorbing mix of spooky comedown synthtronics, night-time traffic ambience, electro glitches and animals scratching at the door, over which Hval sings, whispers, talks and pants her feelings and philosophies.

It contains some stupendous playing from both men, whose repertoire covers old bop numbers and several original tunes.

Cool Ghouls have a very thorough grasp of how psych should be repackaged for today. Animal Races offer harmony-laden 60s folk-rock with a slight slacker feel, not unlike Quilt.

It’s never quite clear whether the album is an arch exercise throughout which Berry keeps an unimaginably straight face, or if any comic leanings are the fault of the listener, projecting “funny” on to what is a wholly accomplished work.

Though played out across a potentially draining 75 minutes, Going Going... throws a few pleasant curves as it’s presaged by four unexpectedly evocative, scene-setting instrumentals, including the atypically delicate Marblehead.

It’s a dark folk contemplation, austere acoustics from abrasive, angular strumming, but it feels connected, like it’s part of the earth, part of that elemental, ritualistic essence of being in tune with natural forces.

Zomby’s excellent recent single with grime touchstone Wiley obviously had an influence on the direction, peppering the collection’s R’n’B cut-ups and dubstep-powered techno. Some pieces here, as on previous selections, are miniatures, or riddles filled with strange edits.

Wilco could have settled into being a comfortable, unchallenging arena-filling rock band, instead they’re knocking out marvels like this every year, constantly defying expectations and embracing change.

Above all, Los Niños Sin Miedo is an album made to soundtrack youthful exuberance--knowingly dumb in places, chaotically enthusiastic all over.

Knee deep in dashing, erudite pop, the band’s 13th LP Cosmonaut will hardly sully their reputation.

After the more immediate pop-metal of Epicloud and Sky Blue, Transcendence is a spine-tingling return to something more substantial. Also managing to advance the DTP sound, the breadth and quality of the material is simply astonishing.

Get past the familiar jangle of the opening four songs, and there are far subtler nuances to contemplate.

The result is an album that feels a long way from the ragged, Replacements-meets-Arcade-Fire alt.rock of The Stage Names or the sleep-deprived folk of Black Sheep Boy. The majority of Away sees Sheff’s winning wordplay married to a skewed take on classic country-rock.

Amazingly, this all hangs together brilliantly to form a restless, thoughtful and constantly engaging collection that deserves to be heard by many.

Anderson seems content to allow the songs to unveil themselves like never before; it’s by far his most band-driven, expansive work.

Despite all the cosmic Englishness on display, Furfour also boasts a deeper side that offsets the saccharine.

Though Acoustic Recordings doesn’t quite offer a parallel discography, it is a reminder of some easily overlooked moments in White’s ever expanding discography.

This particular release has all the textures, tinkles and poise the listener craves from Moss, while often arming them with some pretty hefty, distorted kicks and bass.

The result is that each side cancels the other out, rendering it somewhat ineffective.

Their sound is now more stark and metronomic than ever before.

It all combines to create an album that, even all these years later, finds them back on top form.

A record that takes the blues-rock of 2013 debut Sistrionix, rases it to the ground and rebuilds something for which the phrase “new and improved” would be an understatement.

Boys Forever goes some way to making things alright, under or above ground.

Anything But Words is the sound of two worlds colliding and finding a golden middle ground.

My Woman is an odd, somewhat mismatched collection of good and then great songs that could have been more ghostly.

Though You Can’t Live In The Past beautifully sums up his attitude and ethos, Fingers Crossed will be a worthy cherry to top the colossal, career-encompassing Stranded In Reality set when it lands soon.

Live... never drags, remaining furious throughout.

It’s experimental in a kitchen sink (including Chris Isaak) way rather than studied and arty à la Everything Everything. Too often, the results are a bit of a mess.