When Måneskin tap into the youthful exuberance and fiery eccentricity that got them here in the first place, though, they’re still utterly unstoppable.

Every Loser is superb. But more importantly it encapsulates Iggy’s essence, not by reframing for a modern audience or pandering to trends, but drawing out the timeless qualities of its author: his anger, his sense of wonder and romance, and his downright strangeness.

This is a great rock album, built on its creators' own terms, and delivered with musical flash, songwriting panache and, at times, immense force.

It feels refreshing, and like a bunch of really good mates have got together to share their experiences with the world. L.S. Dunes could well change the tide on all things post-hardcore.

Cave World is an album brimming not just with colour and life, but also with a sense of striking unease that is pitched somewhere between the deeply sexual and the profoundly sinister. ... That all of this strangeness is carried aloft on a smorgasbord of varying musical styles makes Cave World all the more alluring.

Although it might not set your mosh muscles alight like the coffins on its cover, SMTB have improved their genre-exploring recipe with deeper flavours, keeping you coming back for more.

Pawns & Kings is classic Alter Bridge – nice big choruses, intelligent lyrics, rock music meant to be played on big stages – but with their muscle properly tearing through their shirts. And though for longtime fans this shouldn't come as a surprise, the level to which they've dived in here still may do.

Thematically taking place over one night, the seven songs that make up Datura are equal parts cinematic, catchy and cool, while also spectacularly showcasing Boston Manor’s creative growth.

It’s a ferocious, fearless record from one of Britain’s best.

Congregation leaves off with an air of strength. On one level, from overwhelming darkness, they’ve wrenched a set of songs that are not only vitally relevant in the here and now, but which will stand the test of time. On another, it’s clear that Witch Fever’s journey is just beginning.

Done largely live in the studio, together, looking at each other, the already taut LOG energy thrusts even harder.

Smart, confident and put together with a real sense of intrigue, WILLOW’s latest record is a testament to having the belief to forge your own path. As coping mechanisms go, this one sounds like a winner.

Here, her already fulfilled promise is given the opportunity to breathe and find even deeper depths of wonder and intriguing brilliance. Hear it and weep.

It’s perhaps not as instantaneous as the debut, as vile as Iowa or as catchy as Vol. 3, but it offers depth, discomfort and danger to those willing to dive into the recesses of The Nine’s collective consciousness.

As ever, The Wonder Years remain the best in their class. They remain as musically smart, emotionally intelligent, and reassuringly bullshit-free as ever.

So, 13 albums in, Clutch are still uniquely brilliant, master craftsmen of a form at once ingeniously simple and amazingly clever. And one that only they can properly do.

It might not have anything with the same riotous energy as It's A Raid, his punked-up duet with Post Malone that went off like a feral firework, but it still radiates a sense of the thing you love keeping you excited and feeling alive.

On The Sick, The Dying… And The Dead!, the war machine is resolutely in-gear. Whatever the cause (COVID weirdness, the sacking of long-time bassist Dave Ellefson, logging onto Twitter for five minutes), it's killer.

Physical Thrills is the sound of a band able to have a deep spring clean and polish up their best sides, to thrilling effect.

Nine records in it is inevitable that anything they do will have a particular sheen, but creatively, in performance, and in energy they continue to operate on a plane all of their own. And in a world of uncertainty, that's a very welcome thing.

It absolutely borrows plenty from all of Brendon’s influences – but that’s not a bad thing. Viva Las Vengeance is both consistently catchy and classic-sounding, and another fine addition to Panic!’s remarkably varied discography.

The Chats have the same natural knack for this stuff as The Ramones, able to make their point in 90 seconds while also having ripping punk tunes galore that sound no different to those on their High Risk Behaviour debut. It is quite brilliant.

It’s the pacier moments that make up the bulk of the highlights, but there are other areas of interest. Unwanted seems determined to be lots of different things to different people, ticking boxes left, right and centre in a way that seems ambitious rather than cynical, while mostly delivering on its multitude of promises.

Ultimately, any record which ends with a cover of cult anarcho-surrealists Rudimentary Peni can’t fail to convince in its sincere respect for its predecessors and inspirations.

A record which never really sags – an impressive feat for a mixtape of 17 songs, none of which are interludes – and instead engages the listener throughout, with a constant stream of fresh ideas thrown into the pot. When it comes to rock and hip-hop colliding, this is the sound of the future.

It’s interesting to hear Candy embracing their experimental side and, for anyone in any doubt, their industrial tinged noise is every bit as horrible as their hardcore – a wonderful spectrum that ranges from explosive anger to sinister brooding.

One of the defining features of Beatopia is that it’s much less immediate than Fake It Flowers – there aren’t so many catchy, love-at-first-listen bops, but the ones that are there, namely the fizzy pop-rock jam 10:36 and the scuzzy euphoria of Talk, are a lot of fun. The more left field moments here are handled with just as much assurance and burst with creativity.

Household Name is, altogether, an ineffably charming release bringing a youthful modernity to old school sounds.