At every turn he unfolds the fists of self-pity into upturned palms of generosity.

Making music by numbers shouldn’t be this tiring.

No doubts about this: Short Movie is a masterpiece.

Morrison outshines everyone, with a quality of relaxed joyousness, riffing all over lush, lively new arrangements with his band.

Fans will find much to enjoy here, but it might be time for Knopfler to push himself out of his comfort zone.

Comparisons with Nilsson and early solo McCartney are high praise, but at his softer side it all threatens to go a bit Gilbert O’Sullivan. Yet this is a lovely debut and its innocence is a big part of its charm.

There is a neat cover of Creedence’s Have You Ever Seen the Rain but the best songs are her own heartfelt and brooding country ones.

It’s effectively atmospheric, giving a raw, insomniac groove to the gritty notes draining from electric guitars and a twitch of dirty old fluorescent bulbs in the glitchy drum beats.

More solid, stadium stompers bulk out this second album.

The tone switches dramatically between dynamic contemporary electro groove adventures, singalong pop and lush synthetic ballads, while veering emotionally between introspective vulnerability and strident defiance. Yet every track adheres to robust, classic songwriting principles, a kind of melodious elegance of structure gleaming through no matter how inventively deconstructed the arrangement.

Creating a 21st-century album that is still able to deal in an original and touching way with the big and interesting subjects of love and death is a trick that many folk and country musicians try to pull off and few achieve, especially in the impressive way that Gretchen Peters does with her 2015 album Blackbirds.

They do owe a musical debt to Ali Farka Toure (whose songs they started out covering), but they’re definitely etching out their own groove.

Lyrics and delivery suggest Imagine Dragons adhere to old-fashioned rock band idealism, but nothing is allowed to get in the way of a sparkling hook.

Play it soft, and it drifts into the background. Play it loud and something much more vigorous and compelling emerges.

The result is the gorgeous Tomorrow is My Turn, which shows off the full singing range and power of the frontwoman for innovative string-band trio the Carolina Chocolate Drops.

This sounds like the work of an artist who knows he is at the head of the hip hop pack, laying down a gauntlet to the whole of rap music.

For although the album’s called Into Colour, its spectrum is mostly warm vintage tints: a cosy blend of sentimentality and sophistication.

Crazy In Love aside, this generically pleasant and wafty album makes a better accompaniment to laundering sheets than rolling in (or being tied up with) them.

Badass has been criticised for failing to take his retro stylings anywhere new, but he lovingly recreates the Nineties vibe with an appealing low-slung swagger and infuses it all with a thoughtful, pavement-pounding philosophy.

Deeply infused with rich, subtle hooks, Modern Nature is a patient album that warms the bones with a steady fusion of mid-tempo Curtis Mayfield soul (muzzy organ, bongos and funk guitar), with memories of Madchester club nights (baggy beats, chunky chords, shoegazer vocals) and tasteful string arrangements.

It is a little daunting at first approach, but stylistic breadth and dynamic shifts make up for the stark brutality of their sound.

It is a lovely Valentine record, if you favour melancholic songs about missed chances. The set feels overfamiliar, though, drawing heavily on classic Seventies ballads by the Carpenters, Eagles, Elton John and 10CC.

The Third is a hot, sweet pancake stack of danceable tracks, drizzled with drama and swung by a terrific horn section.

The songwriting class shows. In addition, the musicianship is top notch.

Some will scoff, but imagine a beloved grandfather at a family gathering singing ballads of love and yearning from his lost youth, and you will get some idea of the power of this extraordinary record.

The songs on What a Terrible World, What a Beautiful World, produced by long-time collaborator Tucker Martine, are more intimate and personal than some of the early Decemberists narrative songs.

She just needs to read more self-help than she spouts, and show us that she has more depth than bass.

After the wild beach party of 2007’s Volta and the shiny wonders of 2011’s Biophilia, Vulnicura is a windswept trek of a record. But one which gradually repays its difficulties with the raw exhilaration of survival.