For all the existential dread contained therein, G_d’s Pee… also includes moments of elegiac beauty, as on shorter tracks Fire At Static Valley and the exquisite OUR SIDE HAS TO WIN (for D.H.).

This is an album that’s compelling and will leave you hanging onto your headphones to see what’s coming next.

There’s catharsis and darkness, but they are of the most forward-looking variety, fringed at times with something approaching hopeful joy. In a time where Evanescence’s usual emotional touch could easily speak to feelings of isolation, fear, confusion, hopelessness, loss and fragility, The Bitter Truth gets on that frequency and interrupts it.

While the first half of Is 4 Lovers takes a jackhammer to old, if still relatively fertile ground (hey, why have one song called NYC Power Elite when you can have two?), the second half dials down the pulverising and amps up the pulsating on less frenzied, more electronic songs such as Love Letter and Glass Homes.

Rarer still are those who can apply their personality to another’s songs and make them theirs simply by sitting down and playing them. Here, she has done so to nothing less than a triumphant degree.

There are no surprises here, it simply feels as though they’re picking up from where they left off from seven years ago; if you’ve ever listened to one of their albums before then this will feel instantly familiar.

The Lunar Injection… is too long and could easily be trimmed of material most diplomatically described as ​‘non-essential’, particularly the little instrumentals/sample-laden wig outs between tracks. The rub is, of course, that these short sonic mood boards are often the bits where Zombie tries something new.

At times it feels like the band could let loose a little more, but such observations are minor quibbles when faced with a record as enjoyable as I Won’t Care How You Remember Me. An album packed with heart, soul and – despite its title — memorable songs, LP six is another gem from a band who rarely let you down.

As far as sludgy, frenzied noise rock is concerned, there are few who do it better than Melvins, and Working With God is tangible proof.

Through all this existential and unremitting bleakness, the music is vital and vibrant, using a broader palette and brighter colours than they’ve ever used before.

Trauma Factory’s straight-up rap moments are more hit-and-miss, with the likes of exile and upside down feeling coherent enough but lacking in bite, demonstrating how nothing,nowhere. sounds best when the musical backdrop is thicker and leans more into the heavier side of Joe’s sound.

This mega reissue brings together just about all the Vol 4 one could ever need. ... The Steven Wilson remixes are superb, a collection of alternative versions of the songs that are worth it for the curiosity factor alone. ... As for the live stuff, the band are simply on fire, heavy as hell, and completely in the zone throughout.

Their most confident collection yet, full of persuasive rock songs in which Taylor, her voice punchily prominent in the mix, holds court on a variety of important topics.

While at some points their aversion to easy melody and obvious structure hoists them by their own petard, there’s more than enough strange stuff here to quicken the pulse and capture the heart.

FLOWERS for VASES / descansos continues what Petals For Armor started in showing just how much of Hayley Williams we still have to get to know as an artist. The Paramore question mark continues to hover, but here Hayley has once again shown that there’s more to her than one band.

It’s an exhibition of just what a simply, fundamentally good band Foo Fighters are, and how skilled with a tune and a melody Dave Grohl is. You couldn’t call it stripped back as such, but its less hectic nature throws things into slightly sharper focus.

To nobody’s surprise, the ten pieces premiered on this third instalment often pulse with the sort of ominous keyboard patterns that’ll have you checking over your shoulder for masked serial killers or vengeful sailor ghosts.

Mr Wilson has travelled all over the musical map, but appears to be more direct in wanting bigger results this time around. Is it better than what he’s done before as a result? Not always, but it’s the next blockbusting step from an artist who’s always done things on his own sonically strange terms.

it is a wonderful thing to hear Weezer still actually sounding like Weezer here. That they’ve achieved this while pushing their creative boundaries with an orchestra only underlines it. And the best part is, when the time is right and we go back to stadiums again, they’ve still got what promises to be the perfect album to celebrate with left in the chamber.

Finding solace in the fight, The Hope List is a resounding show of strength from Lonely The Brave – one which points towards a future rich with possibility.

The Helm Of Sorrow manages to sound like a different entity, while still riding that wave of existential horror.

It jabs with style, and demonstrates that, far from running out of ideas, this band remain intent on staying at the cutting edge of modern British rock.

Every note and drumbeat speaks of friends enjoying the freedom to do whatever they damn well want, in the company of musicians and composers whose talents bring out the best in each other. Even amongst such impressive back catalogues, Killer Be Killed have crafted a record which absolutely destroys in its own right.

After a while the hell-raising wears thin, though, and Luke’s jugular-bulging yells start to sound indistinguishable between songs. But when the Nil’s no-holds-barred approach comes good, it’s glorious.

Neither Boris nor Merzbow are particularly known for their music being concise, and of course this opus is no exception — clocking in at almost 90 minutes it takes its sweet time making its point. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing, as they unhurriedly pick apart their previous material it provides fresh perspective and an opportunity to rediscover.

As with the original, Black Stallion is an album of competing extremities held together in a state of perfect equilibrium. It is certainly true that White Pony needed no augmentation. In its original incarnation it sounds as breathtaking and innovative now as it did in June 2000. To weigh Black Stallion against it would not only be unfair, but also miss the point. What we have here is a whole new set of parallel hoof prints to marvel at.

Weird! is a collection of good moments disappointingly hidden under an avalanche of sugar.

Does it need to be quite as much of a lengthy binge as it is? Maybe not. But second helpings of something that’s fundamentally good are never a bad thing. And in the moment that Smashing Pumpkins currently find themselves – three-quarters reunioned, confident, dare one even say comfortable – there’s joy to be heard throughout, as they turn over rocks and see what they can find.