A well-drilled exercise in slick, sumptuous songwriting.

Originally envisioned as a nod to doo-wop, the album soon blossomed thanks to the involvement of various aides-de-camp, including Peter Buck, kd Lang and Neko Case. Yet their contributions are subtle, adding gentle harmonies and instrumental prowess to tiny, emotional epics.

A record that struggles to catch fire.

There is nothing revolutionary about Cayamo but as an example of what world class performers can knock out on their holiday it can’t be beaten.

Headbangers will be pleased to hear that Scott Ian’s crunchy riffs and Joey Belladonna’s banshee wails are at front and centre, athough--continuing a theme that has endured since the mid-90s--truly warp-speed thrash beats are, disappointingly, largely absent here.

Weirdly though, on his first solo record in nearly six years, it’s when everything is piled up together, when all the faders sound as if they are turned up, that the record is at its best.

[Phoenixes is] given layers of treated guitar and robotic backing vocals, creating a stillness that ramps up the emotional effect of the song. It’s indicative of the qualities of the album as a whole; potent stuff.

While the cynical may snigger behind their hands at this degree of conceptualisation, it makes for a suprisingly tight, focused release.

One of this set’s major strengths lies in the equal space given to fleeting names who made their statements then vanished.

An extremely welcome return for Rangda, The Heretic’s Bargain finds the fanciful jam wranglers at the peak of their powers.

It’s true that Quilt have tightened their sound and clearly production values are high across the whole of Plaza. But sadly, in lieu of a more unified sound or approach, their music might be doomed to be like an actual quilt--with all the filling annoyingly on one side.

Other highlights, such as the Ngoni-driven Kenia, the desert blues of Tu Voles and an atmospheric take on Nina Simone’s haunting lament Strange Fruit confirm that she is an artist still very much at the top of her game.

Yet, while neo does hark back to the logger-heavy, plaid-clad revolution from the Pacific North-West, it rarely sounds wearily derivative.

Despite its noir inflections, it’s a lighter, at times impish, and vibrantly melodic, album. Wherever it takes us, we’re likely to enjoy the ride.

Helmed by ex-Primal Scream and My Bloody Valentine producer Brian O’Shaughnessy, the band’s second release, Everybody’s Dying To Meet You is a shade more confident and fully-realised.

Despite its sheen and icy edge, the album proves that Dan Sartain is one of music’s great personalities; a little unhinged maybe, talented definitely, but never dull and never treading water.

A sparse recreation of her hymnal Second Sight from a previous album, This Coming Gladness, sums up the sound: unorthodox, riveting. Fantástico.

There’s a time and place for material this demanding of the listeners’ attention, and it does take repeated listens for the album to really make sense, but when the mood fits, Painting Is hits the spot like only they can.

The band doesn’t come off sounding as distinctive as Gane’s most praised ensemble, but there’s certainly potential in abundance.

It’s a consistent and intermittently inspired set but while it flows seamlessly throughout, the strident Roll It and intricate, Before Hollywood-esque Don’t Be Right are arguably the keepers here.

The album doesn’t stray far from the pop template established by early single Chinatown; only now there’s a more self-assured swagger, backed with clear and confident production.

It certainly sounds like an album collaged over five years in various places around the world. But there are no contemporaries for this sound, and they hit their mark often, that moment where all the dried pasta shapes, buttons and string turn into a surprisingly lucid portrait of a band happy to try everything at once.

Emotional Mugger might be the very first glimmer of repetition in Segall’s collector-boggling discography. Enjoyable, chaotic, but occasionally lumpen and familiar.

While it isn’t without its moments, that is not enough to forgive the sub-standard R’&’B and lumpy rock crossovers.

While the musical performances are expert, the real appeal of the record lies with Friedberger.

Throughout, this is the sound of three world-class talents raising their respective games, as if trying to keep up with each other, creating something far greater even than the sum of their world-class parts.

A definite return to form, it’s not 24-carat gold all the way through but there are more than enough nuggets to keep old fans happy and attract some new ones.

The album does have its moodier moments, Hate on--easily the best track on the album--features a strong meditative groove, oddball sax, razor-sharp guitar chords and luscious harmonies. Along with the final track, it hints at a depth that is sadly not fully explored. Nevertheless, this album is a lot of fun.