This album does suffer from moments like an indulgent breakdown on ‘River’ and the toothless Brit-rock sentimentality of ‘Home’ but overall, I’m Not Well is full of feeling and an accomplished, homegrown take on an old, familiar formula.

For those who are not familiar with Monotonix, they're the garage rock band from Israel who are best known for their live sets [...] that leaves this forlorn album reviewer with no visuals nor an earhole full of sweat, instead just 10 songs of crude, cave-art proto-metal and a duty to tell you that actually, Monotonix have a relevance outside of the live context.

There are enough special moments and poignant observations here to recommend a peek into the gloom.

The Constant does what it says on the, er, CD; constantly good, but with more focus it could have been brilliant.

They've not lost their ability to craft subtly alluring, idiosyncratic songs in that time.

This is so inoffensive, it’ll be hard for anyone to hate--or love.

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

Sure, the relative absence of co-frontman Mike Shinoda saps some of the band’s unique character and they get bogged down in sluggish, downcast dirges in the final stretch, but there’s also a sense of liberation running through these 10 tracks; the mark of artists unshackled from their past, stepping into the unknown.

Problems arise though when things get overly slow and sad, falling into the trap of alienating coldness. Boucher’s pain is evident for all to hear, but it’s rarely inviting.

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

This is the band’s 10th studio album, and it’s chock full of chugging, anthemic rock songs, torn straight from the ’80s airwaves. That’s no bad thing, even if in places, The Trigger Complex does sound lost in time.

While this style of Appleseed Cast-esque, classic Deep Elm indie-rock can require a bit more long-term buy-in than noisier, brasher and more immediately gratifying records, the resulting pay-off is rewarding.

It’s a challenging and, at times frustrating listen, with great melodies getting lost amongst the feedback--but it begs your attention nonetheless.

While the spacious (and slightly dreary) prog textures remain, the lurching riffs of ‘Resurge’ and melodic highs of ‘Ornament’ hit the bullseye; showing how talented these four musicians truly are.

It doesn’t deviate much from the well-worn blueprint that the band have stuck to throughout their career, but when your music is this deliciously punishing why would you change?

[The production by Danger Mouse] doesn’t make much difference--they still sound exactly the same.

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

Mattie aims to start conversations, change minds and make a difference, and with a collection of tracks that are as catchy as they are provocative, he’s on his way.

The way they put together their country-rock is rarely less than tasteful with some nice moments, like the sinuous guitar riff of 'Calamity Song'. Only on 'January Hymn', though, where they capture the stillness and melancholy of winter beautifully, do you forget to check the joinery.

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 fizzy keyboards and Bob Mould-y vocals remain intact, but essentially this is conventional indie-rock.

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

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

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.

While it doesn’t quite compete with the very best their genre has produced this year, There Used To Be A Place For Us slots comfortably into the folder marked Perfectly Acceptable 2013 Pop-Punk.

Half-panicked, half-anthemic ‘Runnin’ Scared’ aside, this is all a little meek, but that’s kind of the idea.

Though Makes Me Sick is still a fun listen--complete with some brilliant lyrical put-downs, genuinely touching moments and echoes of past glories--it doesn’t quite capture NFG at their life-affirming best.

Overall, it’s a decent summer barbecue soundtrack, but hardly vintage Sublime.

Reign Of Terror will filter into the middle ground of obscurity amid countless other albums from bands of a similar ilk.

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

For those unfamiliar with the band’s at times world-class back catalogue, this disc is a fine--if fleeting--new entry point.

Amoral proves that Violens will stand proud knowing they can give a name to their organized mess, even if they don't know what it is yet.

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

Earworms are decidedly less abundant than normal, though, sad to say.

Wade through the filler, and the New York stalwarts haven’t sounded this fun in ages.

Admittedly, it’s easy to sneer at this album for its lack of diversity, but it’s a tried and tested formula. And, for Airbourne it’s one that works.

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.

It’s nowhere near as hot as the real prime stuff the early ’80s gave us (Poison Idea, Void, Tar Babies, that sort of thing) and still lags behind the young ‘uns who’re keeping the genre fresh and vital.

Motionless In White’s third full-length sees them firming up the sound they settled on with last album ‘Infamous’, but with varying degrees of success.

A poppier polish, especially vocally, coats this album as they move into catchier, crowd-pleasing metalcore territory with mixed results.

For an album that led the charge in early-’00s pop-punk, it’s worth a spin or two, if only for the memories it’ll bring back.

The frontman sounds great as ever, as on the powerful ‘Fabuless’ and ‘The Witness Trees’, but his usual conviction isn’t as present and the album feels largely colourless.

There's nothing immediately wrong with Perch Patchwork--'Living Decorations' and 'Israeli Caves' are serviceable indie rock tunes, and 'Was' is a teasingly low-key ditty--but the core of the album is eminently forgettable.

Unfocused and indistinct, this is an awkward transition that skews towards by-numbers radio-rock.

Not good, not bad, just is.

Frontman Dave King's vocal approach now presents itself as one of jaded disinterest, the defiant cries replaced by a sense of wistful reminiscence.

There’s hope in bouncy standout ‘Carry The Sorrow’, but this album is okay, and not much else.

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

For all the album’s heart and scope it does suffer from a lack of fire and fun that made their earlier releases such big successes.

Suffice to say, the once-beloved Kansas City quintet are not Radiohead, and whilst they may have left their pioneering, emo-infused pop-punk behind over a decade ago, nothing quite prepares the listener for the insipid snooze-a-thon they've concocted here.

Trouble is, after one listen it becomes evident that MB hardly benefit from further investigation – they’re just another hipster band who got lucky.

There's been a noticeable progression in sound over the years, but whether it's for the better is debatable. You see, Disguises is neither brilliant or dreadful.

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

This is a lethargic, dull attempt at writing an album from a band that sound like they’ve forgotten how to do just that.

One can’t help wish for less social commentary, and more hands-in-the-air/ feet-in-the-moshpit bangers.

Ghost B.C.’s first effort at a covers EP is another difficult, tedious listen.

On his latest solo effort, System of a Down man, Serj Tankian, continues to stride further and further away from the sound that was once his bread and butter.

It’s a disappointing, day and night affair compared to the soaring triumph of last year’s ‘Joy, Departed.’