The Light in You, Mercury Rev’s eighth studio album, is issued at the end of this week. It is their first for seven years, following 2008’s Snowflake Midnight. In the run up to its release, main-men and constants Jonathan Donahue and Grasshopper (born Sean Mackowiak) took time to reflect on the new album, their attitudes to Mercury Rev's longevity – their debut album, Yerself Is Steam came out in 1991 – and their feelings about how music is heard and recorded.

It’s been worth the wait.

Coming to Foals without the baggage – without knowing, for example, that they’re a British guitar band of mid-Noughties vintage – is a disconcerting experience, not least where fourth album What Went Down is concerned.

Bands that stand out live often disappoint on record: it can be difficult to capture the energy, the ferociousness, the vitality that makes a group of musicians special when you freeze it in time. Experimental pop trio Micachu & the Shapes - who have the dubious distinction of being one of the best live acts I’ve ever seen yet one whose music I’ve never been able to enjoy at home - have probably come as close to doing so as is possible on Good Sad Happy Bad.

Though beautiful, Depression Cherry is hard to love. The fifth album from Beach House – Victoria Legrand and Alex Scally – has the fragile exquisiteness of fine lace but is, as ever with the duo, so hazy it proves impossible to surrender to its drifting course. Just when its form seems within reach through an enervated fog, it’s suddenly gone – like vapour absorbed into air.

Julian Cope: World Shut Your Mouth, Fried

Sad singers never write truly happy albums, but Positive Songs for Negative People – and was there ever a title that so perfectly summed up the work of Frank Turner? – is probably as close as this one gets to putting a brave face on it. Turner’s sixth album opens where 2013’s Tape Deck Heart left off: a sinner amongst saved men on the banks of the muddy Thames, dusting himself off and falling back in love with the city he calls home anthropomorphised as the Angel of Islington.

Cocteau Twins: The Pink Opaque, Tiny Dynamine/Echoes in a Shallow Bay

The listless Complete Strangers drifts by in such a haze that it’s impossible to maintain any concentration on it after the first 10 minutes or so. When it ends, after 43 minutes and 10 songs, awareness that it’s finished only comes when whatever else has been focussed on instead comes to an end. Appropriately, for Vetiver’s mainstay Andy Cabic, it seems his attention has been elsewhere too since the release of 2011’s The Errant Charm.

That I’ve tended to lump The Maccabees in with a certain brand of mid-Noughties landfill lad-rock is my problem, not theirs; not least because the Londoners’ ambitions on their latest album are pitched more at cinéma vérité than Kasabian. The band’s self-professed “difficult” fourth album, Marks to Prove It, takes its inspiration from the nightlife of the inner city – and it’s certainly sonically ambitious, if sometimes a bit joyless in its execution.