“My Lost One”, Materia’s second track, is remarkable. Exemplifying the Julia Holter ethos to the max, it begins wispily with interweaving rippling electric piano figures, a whispered, echoey vocal and slippery acoustic bass. Gradually, grandeur is assumed: a sonic architecture soaring into and beyond the clouds, and outwards into the wider cosmos.

Just over 24 hours before Idlewild stepped out at the Kelvingrove Bandstand, the much ballyhooed solar eclipse had proved a damp squib for much of Scotland, with cloudy weather obscuring any views. With inevitable irony, the following day brought clear skies and sunshine, meaning the audience for this outdoor Glasgow show were basking in brightness and warmth for the arrival of Roddy Woomble and company, a band now holding indie veteran status.

The Adverts’ debut single was released by Stiff Records in late April 1977. The top side of the “One Chord Wonders” / “Quick Step” pairing was a dry humoured assessment of the state of play in British punk. It was and is a remarkable record.

Unlike in Britain, where the bar for entry is more survival than talent, “national treasure” is not a term in such wide currency in America. But Mavis Staples is indeed a National Treasure – rather, an International Treasure – writ large.

Temple Songs opens with “Arc Still Bends”. The song begins with filigreed acoustic guitar and Laura Veirs singing “the arc still bends towards justice, right?” “So why I am still holding this fucking sign,” she continues. It’s not hard to get where this is coming from. Atmospherically, what’s conjured suggests the glacial shimmer of Linda Perhacs. 

Although the sound quality is slightly boxy, the opening track on CBGB’s 1985 is a treat. “Gardens” is on a line between first-album Rain Parade and Unhalfbricking-era Fairport Convention, it’s hard to tell from this live album whether Rochester, New York’s Absolute Grey – grey, not gray – caught the attention of their subdued-seeming Manhattan audience four decades ago while playing NYC’s prime roots-level venue. Now, though, it’s clear “Gardens” is top-drawer folk rock-inclined psychedelia which demands instant attention.

Last night's BBC Prom was a celebration – of 40 years since the release of Paul Simon’s triumphant album Graceland in August 1986. Before long, the celebration had morphed into a dance-along, with the fully populated arena of the Royal Albert Hall bobbing and swaying, spurred into movement by the stylish choreography of Ladysmith Black Mambazo. And by the time we got to the final number in the programme, “You Can Call Me Al”, the dance-along had blossomed further into a joyous sing-along. 

VINYL OF THE MONTH

John R Miller The Great Unknowing (Rounder)

A few years ago, Camp Bestival felt like a charming, quietly eccentric affair, fairly small in the best sense, especially set beside the giants of the British festival calendar. Curated as ever by its founder Rob da Bank and held in the grounds of Lulworth Castle on Dorset's Jurassic Coast, it has grown into something that feels much bigger and even more beloved: a multi-award-winning family institution. But the essential character holds.

There is a jovial intensity about the Jeremy Ledbetter Trio. As they launch vivaciously into the second set of their visit to a packed Ronnie Scott's, they clearly enjoy playing together, as the many smiles and expressions of delight they exchange on stage make blatantly clear. There is a relentlessness, though, as if they’d allowed themselves to be a little too possessed by their virtuosity and high volume.