The nine sizzling tracks here may fly by, but reveal a true pioneer still firing on his much-abused cylinders.

Piano is a solo work through and through. Simple, yes, but considered, dignified and something of a palate cleanser too, wherein everything seems reset.

Thankfully, despite all this period charm, Air’s music more than holds up today.

A Moon Shaped Pool represents a return to the ambition and perfectionism that has characterised their best work.

An instrumental album that never fails to hold the listeners attention, with a plethora of quotable passages and delightful moments. A coming of age album.

Though there are innumerable influences at work here, it is blessed with an offbeat and singular charm.

It’s all very pretty and pleasant, but whereas Smith Westerns burned with the emotions of their songs, Whitney seem rather more detached from theirs. Which, as easy-going as these 10 songs are, renders them more as temporary, unconvincing background music. It’s nice for a while, but their effects soon give way to the winds of truth and reality.

[The Glowing Man] finds Swans ever so slightly more playful, and on the cusp of a new era.

Musically it’s a side trip to the shop of horrors.

It’s a psychedelic North American road trip, coloured in by touring member Brent Cordero’s Farfisa and Wurlitzer, adding a fleeting but panoramic sense of wide blue yonder here, and a taste of honey there, to these otherwise introverted and haunting tunes.

[A] challenging, deeply odd at times and hugely enjoyable album.

A Melvins selection box of sorts, Basses Loaded is packed with delights.

Craft’s intention is to take the listener “off into the clear night of Joshua Tree” and there are certainly moments when he achieves that. It’s not quite the same Joshua Tree of Gram Parsons or U2 but that’s the thing about deserts--they bring you up against yourself.

While it’s churlish to accuse the young of veering towards the childish, the frustration from some of the outré moments on I, Gemini only comes as a result of the satisfaction derived from the more involved, accomplished half of the record.

A rare example of a collaborative album that reflects well on everybody involved.

Relief all round then that their fifth album is a shimmering thing of beauty; a fresh summer breeze blowing in full of character and heart and sweeping away the dirge and disappointment of their last outing.

What you’re left with is the impression of an artist with her receptors fully open, resulting in a debut reaching far more emotional touch points than you’d expect.

They focus on the mundane without giving much life to it, leaving the songs hypnotic when they’re playing, but hard to remember when they’re not.

It’s no River II, though perhaps with a bit of harsh pruning, it could’ve been a carefully edited and extended version that preserved the blues-vs-bossa split of the original vinyl. What The Other Side of The River most definitely does offer, though, is proof that beyond those superlungs that still belt out the 60s cover versions in 2016, it’s from Reid’s breathier excursions that true beauty flows.

While rockers such as Mr Policeman are sufficiently rambunctious (only descending to barroom romping on Willie Dixon’s over-played My Babe), The Rides shine brightest on slower outings such as Stills’ poignant There Was A Place (which sees him lamenting lost friends), Shepherd’s intimate By My Side and Goldberg’s riveting I’ve Got To Use My Imagination, which he wrote in 1973 with Gerry Goffin and became a hit for Gladys Knight & The Pips.

It’s not so much that these two work well together, but that they work well in spite of each other. There are obviously two very different musical personalities on show, but where they meet is a convenient hinterland that somehow manages to honour the music they love.

On an initial spin, the listener likely won’t understand Juarez’s cult appeal or indeed Allen’s own obsession. However, as superbly documented by the excellent liner notes and art prints (reproducing the 1974 lithographs that accompanied the album’s initial 50-run release), repeated listens will quickly have Juarez clawing at the brain and the heart.

There’s an urgency to Paradise, with punishing drums and agitated guitars, but the band never quite embrace the obvious.

Haynes’ mellifluous voice hits home throughout, particularly effective on slower burners such as Tide and Keep Me, invoking a deeper hoodoo on Kingdom Come and Don’t Need It.

An engrossing work in which the organic and electronic intermingle to create complex layers of sound; Felder invites you to explore its singular terrain.

The mellow-vibed Green Aphrodisiac also stands out with its succulent refrain and addictive, jazzy groove. The song’s introspective demeanour reflects the album as a whole, which mostly presents heartfelt meditations on love and life.

Anohni is at her very best when rawly cracking over glacial blasts of percussion.

Although multi-instrumentalist Scott Jacoby’s production reduces the wall of sound to a digital prism, the starker backdrops provide an unobtrusive frame for that towering voice which, while displaying some Marianne Faithfull-style gritty life experience, still sends vintage shivers on her respectful renditions of Sandie Shaw’s Girl Don’t Come, The Beatles’ I’ll Follow The Sun, Ray Davies’ Tired Of Waiting, Gerry Marsden’s Don’t let the Sun Catch You Crying and Lulu’s Oh Me Oh My (I’m A Fool For You Baby).