A decent collection which explores different aspects of the duo’s chosen musical territory.

As it is, these seven surviving tracks capture a group in transition from R&B covers outfit to something more significant.

Recommended to fans of Michael Chapman, Ryley Walker and Jack Rose.

It’s a delight, full of rich textures and subtle touches, from the harpsichord, hi-hats and horns of “Apollo’s Mood” to the sumptuous opener “Sirens Of Jupiter.”

The depth of The Colorist’s percussive range is transformative, bringing explicit form to the simple expression of romantic excitement in “Jungle Drum”, and rendering the enchantment of the new song “When We Dance.”

Jermaine Cole’s fourth album is highly principled and skilfully wrought, but those aren’t always the most prized or effective elements when it comes to hip-hop.

Restless Spheres is the first release in nine years from Blue States, the nom-de-disque of chill-out stylist Andy Dragazis; and sadly, it sounds somewhat mired in the modes of an emptier era.

The contrasts of the title are evident throughout John Legend’s latest album--in the push and pull between devotion and desire, indulgence and empowerment, and musically in the dialectic between comforting familiarity and exploratory urges.

With Peace Trail, Neil Young slips into self-parody again, with a set of desultory peacenik songs too simplistic and patronising to be taken seriously.

Wherever you look, there’s a fierce artistic sensibility at work.

They pushed the single envelope in various directions – processional chants, electric-organ improvisations, big-band “space bop”, and at the furthest extreme of his sonic galaxy, the furious free-jazz of “Cosmo-Extensions”, guaranteed to clear the floor at any party.

Musically, it’s an odd mix of ambition and disorder, with Doherty’s familiar raggedy-ass rock tempered with poignant moments.

His guests include Lana Del Rey, whose affectless manner makes her a perfect match for him; though the best grooves here come courtesy of Daft Punk, bookending the album with the scudding title-track and Michael Jackson homage “I Feel It Coming”.

What impresses most about Blue & Lonesome is Mick Jagger, who really animates these songs.

Accompanied by a crack hometown band for whom the intricacies of New Orleans’ distinctive second-line rhythms are clearly second nature, it’s a parade of infectious funk and soul right from the moment Bruce Springsteen romps through “Right Place Wrong Time”, to the Doctor’s closing roll through “I Walk On Guilded Splinters” and “Such A Night”.

A sweet, joyously transgressive album.

Garth here sensibly celebrates simple good times in songs like the twangsome “Honky Tonk Somewhere” and its cutting-loose continuation “Weekend”, where copious location namechecks enthuse that “it’s weekend all over the world”. Elsewhere, “Baby, Let’s Lay Down And Dance” tacks its cheeky proposition onto a “Long Train Running” groove, while the chugging boogie of “Pure Adrenaline” suggests how ZZ Top might sound if they were country.

It’s a stark but stunning collection, with Rawlings’ exquisite acoustic lead lines dancing around the melodies, and the duo’s harmonies imbuing their songs with poignant shades of emotion.

Too often, the songs are shadowed by earlier interpreters.

There’s scant distinction overall, with Bruno’s eager-beaver personality wearing perilously thin on “That’s What I Like”, a tiresome tick-list of unimaginative hedonism, and “Chunky”, a big-lass anthem lacking even the roguish, cheeky [sic] charm of Sir Mixalot’s “Baby Got Back”.

What comes across perhaps more strongly in this audio version of Before The Dawn is the subtly contrasting nature of the two suites, their disparate characters--entrapment versus liberation, petrifying terror versus exultant joy--reflected in the music.

Equally interesting are undeveloped outtakes such as the exquisite heartbreak miniature “Marigold”, and two songs deliberately written to meet Elektra’s demand for a hit single, “Once Upon A Time” and “Lady, Give Me Your Key”, on which Buckley’s genial charm and outlandish vocal gymnastics--not to mention the latter track’s clumsy drug-pun metaphor--trump any unfeasible commercial considerations.

A series of lovely, languid soul grooves built around throbbing, cyclical organ drones, subdued guitar and electric piano, downtempo funk beats and subtle streaks of strings.

Despite the hiatus, this guest-laden double-album finds the group still very much engaged, rattling out tongue-twisting, articulate verbal flows dealing more with social realities than self-aggrandising brags and outlaw fantasies.

There’s something grippingly wide-eyed and manic about her performances here and on the mounting hysteria of Beth Orton’s “Alexandria”, while more reserved shades of mental imbalance are evoked in “Window”, where the petrifying effect of obsession is considered over a stealthy, furtive arrangement.

Not that the usual soul belters are entirely absent from Long Live The Angels. Tracks like “Every Single Little Piece” and “Highs & Lows” are big, radio-friendly chartbound anthems, ebullient and eager to please; but the more interesting aspects of the album are to be found in less formulaic arrangements, such as “Give Me Something”, which opens with an acoustic guitar flourish pointedly recalling “The Tracks Of My Tears”, before settling into a folk-soul setting clearly influenced by Tracy Chapman.

The combination of indistinct vocals and the band’s preference for meandering charm over more decisive structures tends to sap the music of potency.

Though not entirely “unplugged”--there’s a wealth of keyboard drones and subtle electronic detail lurking behind the foreground mandolins and acoustic guitars--applying this stripped-down format to some of their most memorable moments does help dilute the excessive stadium bombast which became a cornerstone of Simple Minds’ style.