Not good, not bad, just is.

These are songs of excruciating truth, eternally relevant and assembled with no lack of heart.

Ordinary Silence is light on gimmicks but big on heart.

The band’s most mainstream offering yet and first for their major label home.

Furiosity is crass, it’s rowdy, and it’s totally unoriginal but in the best kind of way.

Uneasy listening doesn’t get much better.

TesseracT have taken the djent blueprint and, barring occasional plunges into riff soup, have re-engineered it into a living, breathing, emotive display of rousing poly-prog.

While A Nation Sleeps is typically impassioned, excellent stuff that marries wretched, raw aggression and political indignation with massive melodies that are just on the right side of cheesy.

With no reason to buck the trend, Damage very much continues the Arizonan four-piece’s reliability streak.

It has highlights, certainly, the beautiful ‘The Vampyre Of Time And Memory’ and epic single ‘My God Is The Sun’ being cases in point, but this a largely disappointing return to record for QOTSA.

Opener ‘Sponge’ leads off the cracking first half before a handful of (even) more introspective numbers add the expected emotional weight.

At times, the quintet deliver the solid grooves and renowned, catchy singalong choruses that have engaged their adoring fan base, but for too much of the time Ungrateful sounds a bit flat and tired.

TIHTWS is the sound of band who know what they are good at and are good at what they know, and there’s nothing wrong with that.

Whether it’s thrashier influences on ‘Silver Linings’ or lyrics that casually rip the piss out of their genre in ‘In Light Of Me’, it’s a refreshing listen.

With power chord hooks and a newfound innocence, this is a side of The Bronx you’ve yet to hear.

It's the Bostonians' simplicity that's most endearing though, and this is a terrific, hangover-inducing return to form.

King Animal doesn't hit as hard as their really early material, but it's well-paced.

[A] mightily ambitious, versatile record.

As a whole, Close The Distance is a touch lacking for our ears.

This record will reward repeat spins generously.

Never pandering to trite post-rock tricks, I Was Here... is pretty damn special.

Without the hands of major label henchmen edging them into the most marketable direction, there's an overwhelming feeling that consumes you when listening to Don't Panic that they've had more time, more room to breathe, and more fun this time around.

It sparkles with invention, creativity, crushing use of dynamics and, when all's said and done, just really strong songs.

A record that pushes the boundaries of post-rock to stratospheric new levels.

There's enough excitement and progression here to make Chasing Ghosts a worthwhile look.

This is a ruthless, heartbreaking and agonisingly profound release from a truly unrivalled band.

It's quite good.

With beautifully harmonised vocals sitting alongside pared-down guitar lines, their lyrical themes of love and loss will hit nerves you never knew you had.

At almost 50 minutes in length, it's an eyebrow-raiser for all the wrong reasons.

Circa Survive have managed to stay both relevant and utterly compelling – not just surviving but thriving.

Recent records have seen the band veer dangerously close to the saccharine. Thankfully --and despite its dubious title--For My Parents manages, for the most part, to avoid these pitfalls.

This is a difficult album to love... the overriding impression is of a not entirely pleasant sugar rush.

The fluidity is back, all the parts gelling easily into a whole.

Though occasionally difficult to digest, 'Harakiri' is nevertheless a worthwhile and intriguing listen.

Murdered Love is a perfectly enjoyable and easily digestible slice of rap-metal.

All the songs here are concise and to-the-point.

The brutality of the breakdowns and throat-cutting growls are balanced by infectious melody and clean vocals, offering possibly their most complete package yet.

This is an album of atmosphere, huge highs, crushing lows, melodies, crescendos and something entirely new that still sounds natural. Stunning.

If world leaders, corporate douche-monkeys and the 1 per cent could just hear Fang Island, there would be no war, inequality or bad vibes.

It may not be pushing the boundaries, keeping much of the stylisations of the band's debut, but the sum really is as great as all of its parts.

It's a record that tells its own story, but its impact resonates far beyond.

It is with frightful ease that one can declare 'Days Go By' as a parody of the efforts which came before.

Whitechapel are one of the best and downright annihilating bands their field.

Expect polished fare awash with slick harmonies, clean guitars, heavy drumbeats, giant hooks and an unadulterated wall of gleaming pop.

A solid if not spectacular release from the king of wail.

A disturbing but utterly all-consuming listen.

A relentlessly insistent, unexpectedly danceable record which manages to be as engaging as it is wilfully bizarre.

Whether regaling us with an ode to a middle-aged prostitute or outlining their plans for solar domination, they're on fine form.

The Fatal Feast might fall short of improvement, but for headbanging, whiplash-inducing chaos there are still few better than the Waste.

Fusing hardcore with metal and occasionally veering off on deranged, druggy tangents, this is an ambitious blend of sounds.

This brief addition to their canon might consist of just four songs, but it's a potent reminder of why we love them.

It won't be to everyone's tastes, but for those who like their metal both heavy and undeniably hook-laden, this is as satisfying an effort as you're likely to find.

Justifies the hype.

Say Anything have always been a hard pill to swallow for some, and while Anarchy doesn't change that, it shows that they have far more than just the one spanner in the toolbox.

This is a deafening, destructive and devilishly diverse affair, serving as a firm and timely reminder that when it comes to this particular game, nobody does it quite like this.

The Hammer Horror synths still jar at times and there are few surprises for long-time fans, but aside from that this is, like its self-titled predecessor, an impressive effort.

Their jangly indie-rock explores the journey of two twin brothers separated at birth through a procession of the schizophrenic ('Drunken Birds') and the more accessible ('Warmer Warmer') with largely satisfying results.

The Menzingers' third album sees them take their slightly atypical song structures (they're not much into the verse / chorus / verse way of thinking) and make them catchier than ever.

There are enough early anthems included to warrant picking this up, if only as a gateway to their back catalogue.

This is a classic Bosstones album; a record that rises above the notion of categorisation and which anyone with a pulse will find it impossible not to warm to.

This record is the result of Finn turning his hand to songwriting for the very first time and, yes, he's nailed it.

Angry and scathing, Radke's return is welcome.

It'd be a far easier listen if it was a proper studio release.

It sounds ferocious and is going to have you feeling filthy and dealing with tinnitus afterwards, but nothing's going to stop you from rocking.

Relentless Reckless Forever, the band's seventh album, is more of the same but faster and stronger.

Some Kind Of Hate is at its best when it doesn't take itself too seriously.

It feels like they've truly accomplished what they set out to do.

Although some of the quieter tracks can overstay their welcome, this is a well-structured album, hopping between these and frantic, uplifting songs.

It's a gruff affair, yet Caruana's trademark gritty-subject-matter-meets-treacle-thick-melodies shines throughout, and marks a welcome return for I Am The Avalanche.

TTNY show flashes of quality that are as good as pop-punk gets.

American Capitalist announces them as the world champions at post-Black album piledriving riffs and soaring, US radio-friendly melodies.

Psychic Babble's debut is proof that being chilled does not equate to being dull.

You figure they should know what they're doing by now and the former members of JR Ewing and Amulet certainly illustrate their capabilities.

Five Serpent's Teeth is 100 per cent square in the Evile MO: twisted kinetic riffs from the Brothers Drake push the needle into the red before resolving themselves in anthemic choruses.

While the band set themselves up well on songs such as 'I Like Drugs' and 'Just Like Tiger Woods', the record does rely a little too much on no-brainer jokes about girls.

Their name might suggest one thing, but this lot are definitely not going around in circles; this is their best record yet.

Granted, in the more ballady numbers such as 'All Or Nothing', things delve into slightly forgettable power-pop territory, but overall there is enough substance here to credit this as a decent debut effort.

The Deth's 13th album (how'd you guess?) gravitates between classy thrashers and hokey anthemic rock with scorching guitar work and Mustaine's snarling voice expectedly leading the charge.

It's good--really good--but only if you want it to be.

It's noticeably darker than '09s Attics To Eden, but they've strategically kept their arrangements succinct and tight to keep their signature catchiness.

A fine new outing.

While it's not a groundbreaking redefinition of what metal should be, it's a firm statement of intent from the London-based quintet.

This is a superb record and WWPJ are one more example of just how spoilt we are by British rock music at the moment.

There is a sense of funk and bounce characterised by RATM on display here that gives the songs an underlying sense of conviction on top of Morello's already biting vocal approach.

Man Overboard have done a fine job of not only flying the flag high for DIY pop-punk, but also at emerging as the forerunners of the scene.

The album's extended title track take the catchier parts of their newer material (vocalist Chris Conley's infamous Beatles influences seem to mesh much better with their punk rock sound here), and then deliver it so tightly and concisely that it would be a total waste to rehash their glory days.

Chuck Ragan's third full-length solo release, oozes blue-collar charm.

A blend of electronic beats, keyboard-heavy dance grooves and hip-shaking pop underpinned by distorted guitar lines, this is funky and enjoyable stuff.

Heritage is an infinitely more audacious beast, full of jazzy noodling, serpentine guitar leads, folky introspection and general acid-drenched freakiness.

As soulful and finely crafted as their debut of sorts, II is a glorious record.

Like every true outlaw before them, The Icarus Line haven't mellowed with age; they've gotten gnarlier.

The five-piece's dramatic Orient metal (their words) might not brace consistently but when it does it's unstoppable.

Pop sensibilities like these make some of the rhymes in the lyrics a bit predictable, but as they also result in choruses like those on 'The Joyride' and 'Circle Of Lies', it's forgivable.

On The Flood the transitions are so effortless, so seamless, that what emerges is a near-perfect example of how to marry potentially ill-fitting musical elements in stunningly effective fashion.

This preposterously technical mish-mash of progressive metal, full-throated hardcore, operatic female vocals and lounge jazz interludes triumphantly evidences a band taking an absurd amount of joy in kicking against the pricks.

It's far from easy listening but it's an approach that's won them legions of devoted fans in the process and comes close to reducing many of their peers to nothing more than musical footnotes in the larger scheme of things.

Production-wise, the vocals could do with sounding more 'live' (they are note perfect)--but the musicianship present is enough to justify the polish.

There is a welcome confidence throughout The Latest Fashion that Attack! Attack! have not previously shown and it's likely to propel this lot to great things.