In 2023 Dave and Central Cee had the longest running number one UK rap song ever with "Sprinter", a song about the logistics of being very rich. The real star of the show, however, was the spritely, luxurious instrumental which was partially produced by South Londoner Jim Legxacy, who also released the best album of 2023: HNPM.

Is it just me, or has the task of getting hold of basic information so that we as writers can tell colourful and reliable stories about music – rather than being dutiful recyclers of marketing blurb – become increasingly difficult in 2023?

Just like our current government, I’m terrible at long termism. Fortunately, my inability to know what the future holds doesn’t cost lives as it largely concerns fashion, paint colours and music. Over the decades, there are songs I’ve loved with a huge passion that now totally give the proverbial ick the minute their opening chords strike up.

As Britain headed towards the end of 1972, pop fans had fair cause to scratch their heads about a single which first charted in July. In mid-August, Hawkwind’s “Silver Machine” peaked at number three behind Terry Dactyl and the Dinosaurs skiffle-esque “Seaside Shuffle” and, in the top spot, Alice Cooper’s “School’s Out.” Donny Osmond’s oleaginous “Puppy Love” was number four. At 11, David Bowie’s “Starman.”

A flawless song list comprising Richard Rodney Bennett originals plus some of his favourite standards, stunning arrangements by conductor Scott Dunn, plus the mellifluous vocals of Claire Martin magically aligned in my Album of the Year, I Watch You Sleep, an extraordinarily beautiful tribute to Bennett marking the tenth anniversary of his death.

Back in those halcyon days of 2017, before the pandemic, Marc Almond did a tour of large concert halls, singing songs that had influenced him over the years. Needless to say, there was something of a focus on glam and proto-punk tunes from the likes of Lou Reed and David Bowie – which all seems to have sown the seeds for his latest musical direction.

My CD player died some time ago, that is to say it sticks or skips whatever I do to clean it. Dismantling the fancy stack in which it sits and installing a replacement is a hassle, but even so it would once have been unthinkable that I could survive without a CD player. I still have a deck, and vinyl, and my computer has pretty good speakers. Even so the fact that I’ve not replaced it must say something about my interest, or lack of, in new releases, though exploring on Spotify sometimes throws up something new and exciting.

If Mélusine is encountered without knowing its background or themes it would still be remarkable. There is no need to know anything about what frames this journey through Chanson Française, electronica, jazz and show-tune sensibilities with lyrics in English, French, Haitian Kreyòl and Occitan. For all these aspects, Cécile McLorin Salvant’s seventh album is striking enough.

PJ Harvey never fails to deliver – much as I hate that over-used word, the go-to assurance from politicians who promise the earth and dump nothing but shit. With Polly Harvey, she reaches into the unknown, true to her creative impulses, and oblivious to fashion.

It was a year of bleak and brutal conflict, ugly and stupid imposition of power, overt Fascism in the mainstream public sphere, decay of infrastructure and apocalyptic weather. So what better than a record of total pleasure? And Janelle Monáe’s fourth album in 13 years really does do exactly what it says on the tin, in every possible ways. Over 14 songs in just 32 minutes, it positively glows with self-confidence, satsifaction, in-the-moment joy, and deeply felt sensualism.