While hardly what you’d call commercial, ‘Oversteps’ contains some of the pair’s most approachable material for aeons, with their usual alien and sometimes hostile soundscapes peppered with vibrant melodies, particularly on the swirling brooding ambience of ‘Ilandrers’ and bright, fizzing ‘Treale’.

The melodies are huge, the hoarse vocals are fairly infrequent – but this is probably one of the most punk rawk albums Rise Against have recorded.

Front-loaded with jagged riffs and the squalls of Matt Shultz, this is storming.

It's a frenetic, hugely entertaining and inventive genre mash-up full of punk rock aggression and rock 'n' roll swagger that blends inventive chaos with a real ear for melody.

One of punk’s few great constants, the Chicago four-piece are back and as furious as ever with this eighth album. As you’d expect, they don’t fumble the ball.

This is music that creates a vortex in your brain, sucking the entire cosmos in through one ear and out the other, leaving behind only the secrets of the universe and the unerring tranquillity of space. Yes. It really is that good.

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

Glasgow’s finest nerdtronica--in the sense they’re slavishly dedicated to unveiling ever-intricate ways to make us shake a leg – quartet have returned with a second album that takes the charm of their debut and cranks up the rave factor.

Whatever's being said, though, what's great about The King Blues is that they're always unashamedly frank; with a frontman who wouldn't dream of diverging his accent or over-developing his message, they've set storming music to a totally concise, relevant stream of consciousness.

While it may have been captured through a somewhat disjointed creative process, though, there's no sense of No Name No Color lacking cohesion.

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

While the majority of tracks like ‘FML’ and ‘The Weigh Down’ continue in a similar vein, with crushing slabs of aggression offset by sing-from-the-rooftops choruses, the Aussies venture into less formulaic territory with ‘Forest Fire’ and ‘Give It All’, allowing Let The Ocean Take Me to work out its own identity.

e – BSC are at their best with a sledgehammer riff and Magic Mountain is full of them.

Replete with ramshackle tales of bar brawls (‘I Had A Hat’) and barely scraping by (‘Sandlot’), this ninth album feels warm and familiar--but there’s more beneath the surface.

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

[The departure of keyboardist/multi-instrumentalist Franz Nicolay] Far from having a negative affect on these 10 songs, The Hold Steady have flourished in this slight change of tack, with frontman Craig Finn's inimitable, narrative lyrics as stirring as ever.

This album is a perfect representation of what this band has and always will be--brave, real, and resolutely striving for something different.

It sees the band sounding tighter and more confident than ever on the likes of ‘Reading Youtube Comments’ and probable live favourite-to-be ‘Donny’s Woods’.

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

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.

Their sound, now more than ever, is a paradox: despite the Cure-ish grey waves of guitar and Spencer Krug's morose vocal tics, Wolf Parade can't conceal the fact that being in a band is clearly terrific fun for them.

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

These songs might not be the complete, finished product yet, but as signals of intent go, they’re a crystal clear demonstration that Mallory have what it takes to break through the glass ceiling--to make truly exceptional music of soul-stirring quality.

Overall, whatever you think of their craft, they've mastered it; this writer's mentioned almost every track on the album to hold up this review--and that's got to be a good sign.

Songs For Singles is unmistakably a Torche record; primal, punishing, yet irresistibly sweet. It may make a mockery of the traditional album format, but then again, would you expect anything less?

While tracks such as Broken Home still deliver the crushing might (albeit in a more subliminal fashion) to his other outfit, the recently resurrected Godflesh, there's a sense of hope in the levitation-inducing riffery. Stellar.

Still shrouded in mystery yet sounding clearer in their intentions than ever before, the familiar mix of strained vocals, propulsive yet unobtrusive instrumentation and haunted piano refrains serve as a perfect example of why we missed them so damn much in the first place.

While forward movement isn't a prerequisite of greatness, Unearth have moved sideways with only partial success.

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

The likes of 'The Resist Stance' and 'Someone To Believe' burn with righteous anger and the energy of a band half their age. Only the closer, the toothless 'I Won't Say Anything', isn't up to scratch. A fine addition to their cannon.

Gareth’s vocal is less shrill these days, his lyrics are less desperate (though just as despairing), and the band’s soundscapes are increasingly diverse....A big step forward.

Even at its most meandering points (‘Nowhere Lullaby’), the tangents on ‘There Is No Enemy’ feel purposeful. Martsch’s lyrics remain wry and erudite, but he’s back to expressing himself in a more whimsical fashion and, more importantly, writing actual melodies.

Overall, it’s an impressive progression on all counts.

The results are shufflingly majestic, loaded with blissful truths and, it must be said, startlingly close to perfect.

Possessing a grandeur that never descends into pomposity and a restraint that could never be mistaken for bland aural wallpaper, this is undoubtedly one of the most beautiful releases you’re likely to hear over the coming months.

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

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

At just seven tracks The Beautiful Stories is a touch slight, but whether it’s the ’80s guitar tones or quiet insistence of the quintet’s lyrics, it’ll leave a much longer impression.

Everything’s here from a band that still pack arenas, whilst there’s enough progression to ensure they’re ahead of their peers.

This album seamlessly flits from one brilliantly bold idea to another with no dips in quality.

Justifies the hype.

Though perhaps overly mechanical, Vengeance Falls remains compelling and staggeringly textured.

This album sets the band on their surest footing for years and proves that Anthony Green and friends can still hang. After all this time away, that’s more than enough.

Even if it doesn’t all hit the bullseye, at least they’ve dared to stray from the beaten path.

Safe In Sound’ is clearly engineered for the airwaves; almost every song produced and polished to within an inch of its life. ... That’s not to say that Safe In Sound is without its triumphs – there’s still an abundance of riches to enjoy here.

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

More than a decade on from ‘Orchestra Of Wolves’, Frank is still singing from a different hymn sheet to everyone else, and that’s well worth celebrating.

Merging brittle, jittery riffing, fraught tremolo-picked flutters with mesmeric drum patterns and tense, semi-spoken vocals the result is as resounding a success as ever and a reassuring testament to the ongoing fertility of the Louisville underground.

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.

The Human Romance is how metalcore should be: layered, dynamic, passionate. Easily the best Darkest Hour have been since "Undoing Ruin."

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.

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’s impossible not to admire the scale and ambition of what Sleeping With Sirens are trying to achieve here, so don’t be too surprised if they’re swapping Warped Tour for arenas before too long.

At times the results are exhilarating, as on the superb ‘Moth Into Flame’ and doomy death-march of ‘Confusion’--written from the perspective of a soldier with post-traumatic stress disorder--but there’s a smattering of filler, too. Too many tracks outstay their welcome by a matter of minutes.

It’s an album dripping with class, craft, heart and soul and Deaf Havana’s most accomplished to date--a step out of their comfort zone and a step up in every regard.

All told, this is an almighty beast of a record--yet another in the now bulging Biffy Clyro canon. They’re well and truly settled into a creative groove now, making the improbable seem like a reflex, as easy and instinctive as breathing.

Throughout, the highs are tinged with sadness and the lows with hope, making Simple Math a complex and rewarding album that soars above the pack.

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

While this may not be the straight-up punk that fans of 2012’s ‘Two Year Plan’ know and love, Such Gold are showing a thirst for progression, and that’s not something to be sniffed at.

While Sean Slug Daley's heartfelt lyrics, reflecting humorously on fatherhood, love and loss, are given full vent by producer Ant, the addition once again of keyboardist Erick Anderson and guitarist Nate Collis brings Atmosphere's trademark sound to another level.

This record will reward repeat spins generously.

The resulting sound is one of wistful melancholia, designed for dark rooms, loud headphones and the flickering feeling that while life can be shitty at times, there’s always a chance to find happiness.

While several tracks would sit comfortably on a Best Of ...Trail Of Dead playlist Tao Of The Dead certainly feels like their most consistent collection in years.

There's no let-up, no pretty acoustic interludes, just full-on musical onslaught.

ATB have found a collective cutting edge that’s both extreme and versatile.

The Summer Set have conjured up a bubblegum-stained blast of modern pop rock that sounds just as good at the start of the weekend as it does at the end.

While they continue down a more measured, accessible route--calling to mind everyone from The Clash to Rancid--there’s a freshness to the anarchy this time. Here’s a welcome beacon of hope.

This is a worthy follow-up. Its 12 sultry, sumptuous songs see Brennan Greaves and Britty Drake swap turns singing over a wash of fuzzy, forlorn guitars.

We also love to party and this third effort from Cobra Starship screams ‘party’ right from blast off.

While Afraid Of Heights may fail to break any new ground, if you love this band’s idiosyncrasies, there is plenty to enjoy here.

It does mean that their eponymous third release for Thrill Jockey can be rather prosaically boiled down to: if you like whooshy spacerock, you’ll like this.

Pure metal it ain’t. Pure fun, it sure is.

By the time the closing brass-driven sequences of the 3D-fronted ‘Almost Air’ ebb away, Massive Attack feel like a living, breathing vital force once again.

The Texas crew have created a piece of art that probes into what it means to love and be loved with real intent and passion. If you’ve slept on this band up until now, it’s time to change that.

The riffs remain as ample and hard-hitting as ever, and with Matt Bayles (Isis, Mastodon) handling the production, The Sword have never sounded better.

Stunning.

Featuring two members of the late great Jay Reatard's band--the towering garage rawk that defined his sound is tangible with Wavves too but here left to bathe in the sun and taken for a quick dip in the ocean.

There’s no filler here, even the short instrumental numbers deserve their place as they break up the album into chapters. A surprisingly good follow-up, Life Is Sweet! Nice To Meet You is essential listening.

This full length contains all of Bleeding Through’s hardcore malice only now it’s encased with a perfected, extremity-heavy formula.

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.

The fact that this album is full to bursting with ideas means there are almost certain to be missteps, but the likes of acoustic-led snorefest ‘Father / Son’ are thankfully few and far between on this bracing debut.

No, this isn’t Weezer at their world-altering best, but it is the sound of a band who have at least re-opened the door to the cupboard where their magic formula is kept.

This record manages the remarkable feat of balancing true integrity with universal appeal.

Throw in the stunning power and clarity of Alan Moulder's mix and you have the sound of a band revitalised, re-inspired and highly evolved.

With Brendan O'Brien (Pearl Jam, AC/DC) producing, Stephen Christian's vocals cry out louder than ever across closer 'Depraved' and it proves that five albums in Anberlin have moved beyond the light of 'New Surrender' to dabble with a more interesting, darker edge that borders on Circa Survive.

Hope is the soundtrack to the summer you've not yet had, and from here it sounds like it might be the best one yet.

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.

Coheed And Cambria are always at their finest when they're being dramatic, and as such 'Year Of The Black Rainbow' is possibly their best record to date.

Bearing the smart but dark pop hallmarks of bands like The Cure and Echo And The Bunnymen, it’s astonishing how the L.A. foursome’s fusion of disco, funk and hot gothic takes sounds so fresh in 2017, 30-odd years after that stuff’s heyday.

Stoke Extinguisher offers both food for thought and fuel for the pit; cheap gags jostle for space with anti-establishment rhetoric and a wry sense of self-depreciation.

The Final Frontier might sound alien at first, but Iron Maiden's DNA is splashed all over it.

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

There's enough originality to warrant a second look, though, evoking the epic soul of the infamous The Haçienda club with percussive clatter overseen by techno producer Ewan Pearson.

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

Angry and scathing, Radke's return is welcome.

It's hard to fathom how Bardo Pond have made their life-in-a-lava-lamp jams for the best part of 20 years with--we're assuming--their marbles still intact, but here they are, bubbling away with no sign of letting the quality dip.

While the 15-year-old group may not have explicitly improved their game, Khaos Legions provides a mass of suitably heroic melo-metal anthems. The hardcores will be pleased.

The latest album from St Louis, Illinois, quartet So Many Dynamos is definitely a keeper.