Indeed, incessantly nattering samples are The Field’s trademark, as acquired a taste as a falsetto vocal or an electric bouzouki, the long pieces sometimes leaving you floating through the Land Of Nod and other times walking through treacle.

A joyful, spirited album that also stands to teach whoever listens to it some vital life lessons.

Opener Jump Into The New World is a bubbly 60s-style pop workout with lush girl-group backing vocals, Dog Fight and Hawaii are in the same vein, but a little more subdued, Rock ’N’ Roll T-Shirt swaggers like ZZ Top, and the band continue their food obsession on Wasabi, Green Tangerine, and the Beatle-esque Cotton Candy Clouds.

Although there’s nothing as lyrically sharp as Content Nausea, as raucous as Sunbathing Animal or as brash as Light Up Gold, Human Performance hits all the right notes for a band with a lot of ground to cover.

Often it’s Himeno’s drums alone which provide any sense of conventional structure, adding hypnotic rhythms to the cicada chatter and guitar feedback of #2 before Zaikawa’s heartbeat-like bassline belatedly joins in.

Containing 10 songs and with a running time of 30 minutes, it’s tantalisingly brief but never short of quality.

Compassion is the trio’s second album, and its eight songs straddle the line between the past and the present, between melancholy gloom and euphoric dance music.

Gibson does occasionally fall into the trap of sounding a little mannered, and this can take away from the well-written songs and from lyrics informed by an interesting back-story.

Overall then: heavy, strong and not that long… but not really designed for dabblers.

The songs here appear to be fragments sewn together so looking to find any cohesive narrative is beside the point, nor is there any pressure for there to be any obvious hits on the album. The effect is that the focus is shifted to Lamar’s vocal performance and serves as more evidence that he’s not only the foremost rapper of his generation, but is fast becoming one of the most effective vocalists full-stop.

With Lost Themes II, John Carpenter and band have delivered an album that not only stands up to its predecessor, but surpasses it. In addition to eerie atmospherics, the album is laden with addictive grooves, and feels sharper.

Hyped as the final batch of unissued material assembled during his lifetime, like most mythical artefacts, the reality proves a little disappointing. Not that there isn’t decent stuff to enjoy here. The Introduction and the Gary Numan-sampling Trucks are both capable head-nodders while The Ex features prime production work by Pete Rock and a brilliant vocal turn by Bilal.

Neptune may be swampier, but as side projects go, this is hardly an excuse for a great departure, more of an exercise in indulgence.

When it hits it really hits, as on the loved-up Target and the delicately hewn Myself At Last. But when it misses it really misses.

Frequently time-stopping as feeling triumphs over technique, Jones has a rarely-found natural way of displaying dazzling virtuosity. Mum would have been proud.

A matured yet playful execution, Kline takes the struggles of being a young woman in the modern world and transforms them into stripped-back offerings that--despite the scarcity of instrumentation and simple song structures--leave a strong impression.

The scruffy Scots have taken a more polite approach with this one, but Hutchison’s ability to touch the listener’s nerves hasn’t suffered and the result is musically uplifting; a well-crafted testament to the band’s song-writing abilities.

These nine largely piano-based songs are sumptuous yet graceful compositions that re-establish Bachmann as a truly exceptional songwriter.

Bang Zoom Crazy… Hello, their 17th album and first since 2009, is the latest in a number of stillborn attempts to recapture those glory days.

Bird changed up the backing group from his previous three records and picked a producer he worked with during 2005 solo breakthrough, The Mysterious Production Of Eggs. The result of all this makes Are You Serious arguably his best, at least since Eggs.

With fire and fury in their bellies, September Girls manage to keep their balance and keep pushing on into ever darker territory.

The results, mixed by Foster, are a broken, heady collage of cracked reflection and ramshackle cabin confessional. Acoustic ballads such as Soy Un Hombre are draped in luminous opiated frazzle, while The Whores Above recalls the most melancholy Alex Chilton psyche-trawl, reaching a desolate low on funereal closer The Knife.

The results are some of the most affecting works of his career, spun through with deep meanings and political sentiment.

The names here deliver so much that this compilation wins the bloody bout on points.

Though pieced together on a shoestring with Aves playing most of the instruments, it’s a charmingly idiosyncratic, roots-flavoured record.

III has a highly melodic crossover feel that is somewhat different to many of the players’ other, grittier projects, although the beats remain a little itchy. Songs about crowd mentality and medieval jesters are novel in theme but overthought and bombastically dramatic in their lyrical phrasing.

Crab Day looks set to achieve that rarely achieved goal of raising the game while keeping the faithful happy.

It’s challenging, occasionally difficult stuff, but in a modern world ever more tailored to undemanding audiences and reduced attention spans, that makes it all the more important.