Loose but not chaotic, Set Fire To The Stars has a poetic grace more than worthy of its subject.

Bursting with in-the-moment vitality, it applies a neon topcoat to Gong’s long-established ley lines.

A casting off of the shackles of self-consciousness has borne exquisite fruit here, with any accusations of novelty or fetishism negated by the brilliance of musicianship, attention to detail and sheer fun of the thing.

It’s a given that Keith is never short of rhymes, but Feature Magnetic, perhaps in a nod to its title, sees him pass the mic to a lengthy roll call of guests--almost as if he’s the absent heart of his own record. Regardless, it’s undeniably his show.

An official release of lost song Sunshine Woman will please completists, but it’s difficult to escape the niggling doubt that this is little more than a cash-in opportunity, with lost versions tacked on the end of what was a perfectly good record first time around.

Melodically reminiscent of Portishead’s Mysterons in its early stages, The Gathering sees a rueful violin-led melody spill over into a distorted and sorrowful mass many times its original size. Some Were Saved, Some Drowned has melancholy violins hang in the air as a doom laden riff cuts despondent, bluesy grooves deep into the piece’s core.

As Keaton forcefully exclaims in The Pugilist, “I’m an artist, and I still have songs in me yet”, a sentiment he has demonstrated perfectly with Kindly Now.

As flawed as this album is, pop will be a finer place with AlunaGeorge’s presence.

It isn’t easy to love, that detached remoteness permeates throughout, but it is a well-crafted collection of songs.

Presley is a powerhouse, prolific and ever changing. But as with all churn, sometimes unwanted bodies float to the surface. The Wink does not suffer from such issues, and with Le Bon’s help, Presley’s created something magically timeless.

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.