[A] strange and compelling work.

No surprise then that this first solo album following her second wind is full of exquisite craftsmanship.

Not to everyone’s taste, but at its best Gamel fizzes with sonic imagination.

Set to scratchy, fractured beats and sound-montages, it’s a welcome dose of no-age hip-hop in direct line of descent from De La Soul.

It’s a break-up album that’s perhaps a touch too unremittingly bleak for the closing resolution of “Another Train” (“I’m moving on, through the past, through the pain, waiting on another train”) to completely convince.

The main failing lies in the lack of distinction of the material, and the lack of excitement in its execution: the only time the album teeters on thrilling is when Neil Young’s Les Paul disturbs the peace of “Down the Wrong Way”.

The result is an engaging, youthful and thoughtful folk-rock.

Like its predecessor, Blunderbuss, it’s a mixed bag, roughly split between heavy blues-rock and country, many songs supposedly drawing on teenage writings White unearthed in a drawer.

It’s a pleasant enough effort, but lacks the distinctive touch that might set it apart in a very crowded field.

Rising US indie combo Parquet Courts make giant strides on this third outing, where they locate an effective nexus where grunge meets meets avant-rock in colourful pop livery.

His talent survives in these songs. So does its fatal fracture.

Mostly, though, this is music that keeps its head down. Martin accepts his loss too meekly to approach the anguish of a great break-up album.

Despite the limited instrumental palette, there’s a broad variety of approaches.

Bohemian legend and walking R&B encyclopaedia Chuck Weiss is on great form on this latest album.

Being F&M, they can’t help adding funky, syncopated twitches to break up the four-square march occasionally.

“I Never Learn” is a gorgeous opener, its fulsome strum of acoustic guitars graced by strings and backing-vocal cooings in anthemic manner; but from there it’s emotional pain writ large, with wan piano lines supplanted by grand, melodramatic resolutions.

“The Satellites” opens the album with tart trumpets over staccato guitars, “To Us All” closes it with an oceanic excursion. In between are liquid pools of guitar and chattering keyboards.

It’s not bad, as such, but like Primal Scream it promises more than it delivers.

Lurking behind the cosmicity, there’s usually a solid pop hook.

There’s an ever-expanding diversity of appeal to Turn Blue that should win new fans and please the faithful.

Across two discs there are too many mediocre versions, most revering the polite preciosity of the original Laurel Canyon folk-rock settings.

The most surprising thing about Pixies’ first album in 23 years is that it holds so few surprises.

A strong thread of anti-corporate, anti-corruption liberation ideology runs through A Long Way To The Beginning.

["Mr Tembo" is] a rare moment of extrovert cheer on an intimate, introspective album that takes tentative steps to reveal the soul behind the star.

Macero’s edits on the original double-album collaged four nights’ shows into a single, 20-minute track apiece; but this 4CD set presents each night’s ebullient flow in full.

Produced by her son Cisco Ryder, it’s a family album of elegant songs, well-framed in folk-rock settings.