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Annie Clark wrangles a myriad of vintage sounds and gives them a stunning contemporary sheen, but it is in service of a world unquestionably her own. David Bowie and Mia Wallace had a sweet baby girl and abandoned her in South Queens.

After six long, resolutely joyless years we passed another album review milestone. To celebrate here’s a look at some sweet, sweet data.

Part dramatic dream, part sun-soaked soliloquy, part love letter to mid-century pop rock, Midnight Sister have sewn together a wistful, woozy record.

The last word of a band with nothing left to prove, and it sounds like it. Exceptional without being seminal, but with some truly classic songs.

Catchy and sterile. The majority of these songs wouldn't feel out of place in an advert for Google, such is the clinical nature of their formation.

A broody, elegant, sometimes transcendent blend of rock and electronic music unlike anything made before or since, even by The Stone Roses.

Blues, psychedelia, jazz, and gospel are all deeply ingrained in the music. This is a rock record, but every track has a flavour of its own.

The sonic scenery is colourful and smoky, and the band sound like they’re having the time of their lives. It's loose, but it's endearing too.

Inconsistent, but there's a lot to dig. The songwriting is hard to knock, and Damon Albarn leads the pack well with his social satires and cutting commentary.

Dylan Seeger is a musician and designer living in New York, as is tradition. We talk Claye, the pressures of recording solo, and (sound) circumcision.

Freedom’s Goblin is a victim of its own ambition, and of Segall’s protean talent. A lot of ground is covered, but the album’s identity never quite clicks into place.

Visions of a Life is a triumph of contemporary British rock. The riffs roar and the melodies soar, with the band playing beautifully to Ellie Rowsell’s strengths.

Rock and roll delivered with swagger is such a buzz, and that’s the game on Definitely Maybe. It's relentless, unstoppable, and totally mad fer it.

Doolittle balances boisterous oddness with sweet and sugary pop tunes, making it not only Pixies' most intriguing record, but also the most accessible.

Riffs in giant proportions, subtleties hidden between the pedal switches, and Turner’s Sheffield charm in spades. Possibly Arctic Monkey's finest album.

A staple of the psychedelic folk-rock genre, feeling as fresh and vibrant now as it did in 1967. It sounds like a wonderful montage of the ’60s.

Riding the crest of an unprecedented popular rise, veins caked thick with drugs, Oasis produced something profoundly overblown in their third album.

Instinctive, messy, and rambling, with shimmers of the divine. Electric Ladyland speaks in a kind of rock and roll tongues, with Jimi Hendrix front and centre.

Raw, deeply personal, and tremendously honest, this was rock & roll as Lennon had envisaged it. Sometimes it's gorgeous, others twitchy and uncomfortable.

One of the most enjoyable pop albums of all time, an iconic work that will forever be used as an example for songwriting expertise.