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

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.

Uneasy listening doesn’t get much better.

An album that will creep up on you time and time again, Two Parts Viper is more evidence that all you need to incite a riot is a guitar, drums and pure attitude.

The Poles’ most infectious work as it bristles with the best songs they’ve ever written.

From start to finish there’s almost nothing to fault here.

This record could slot into any punk rock fan’s record collection in the last 15 years and get worn out--it’s just great, timeless songwriting.

The elephant in the room though, is new vocalist Denis Stoff, and the questions over his ability to replace a gifted albeit difficult frontman. Largely, his quest is a triumphant one, and he turns in an admirable performance.

It’s not a progressive album per se, but The Finer Things is a bar-raising attempt at revolution in pop-punk.

Gut-busting, heart-wrenching and captivating from vicious beginning to devastating conclusion, the likes of ‘Cannibals’, the jolting ‘Arkhipov Calm’ and beautifully excruciating title track capture the band at their most ambitious and dominant.

The songs soar in unison with the band’s grand vision. Those songs are a riot, too.

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

Where 07’s ‘Is Dead’ hinted at the band experimenting with a more progressive sound, it was nowhere near as cohesive and accomplished as this. I Was Trying To Describe You To Someone is a phenomenal album.

Nobody does dreamy indie patter quite like this.

It’s a 43-minute blast of ingenious, future-proof rock, virtually flawless but from a band that--importantly--are still flawed like the rest of us. This is the best album you’ll hear this year and more significantly, it’s the most important rock album of the decade.

This album is a fine introduction to one of the scene’s most exciting and original new bands. Keep an eye on this lot.

'No Answers' reassures any doubt that Thursday have taken a new direction, with Cure-esque moments creeping in amidst their hardcore backbone. And guess what? This is Thursday leading what they now do best.

The Massachusetts quartet are back with a new EP that reminds us what made them so exciting in the first place.

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

Possessing more jagged edges than a shed full of rusty chainsaws, You Will Never Be One Of Us is 21 minutes of frenzied, guttural hardcore of the highest calibre.

The almost unbearably intense ‘Slowburn’ and ambient ‘My World’ are just two cuts of an album littered with highlights, meaning by the end of this 33-minute pummeling, you’ll only need one word: breathtaking.

Whether opting for the sledgehammer (check out the riffs on ‘The New Reality’) or an icy scalpel (the warped post-punk of ‘Ugly’), the Pittsburgh four-piece rain down a hail of killer blows. Welcome to Hell.

There's a glorious new depth to the old formula here showcasing undeniable talent.

The Australian punks tone down the fury on album two, and manage to achieve so much without it.

This eight-song effort serves as a breathless, panic-inducing assault on the senses; delivering A-grade riffs, punch-in-the-throat immediacy and more ass-kicking per second than many will be able to withstand.

Partycrasher is still overflowing with singalong moments and air guitar opportunities that should remind you why A Wilhelm Scream are one of the best punk bands we’ve ever had.

While Dillinger might have become more melodic over their years, they have categorically never softened. There are songs on here that will strip paint at 500 yards, curdle fresh milk and happily go toe-to-toe with the best of their back catalogue. That’s no small accolade.

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

Packed with ragged, neurotic and enjoyably volatile punk rock, Parachutes picks up the baton from 2014’s ‘.STOMACHACHES.’ and runs it into new territory.

Skillfully sketched melodies are their calling card and, while it has virtually no bite or cutting edge to speak of, there is enough craft and subtle depth here to warrant repeat listens.

It might lack the narrative arc of 09's An Imaginary Country, but it's hard to imagine that 2011 will see many finer releases, of any genre.

All 10 tracks here bear such scars, adding up to a staggering work of honesty, beauty and artistic achievement. It’s hugely impressive on those terms alone... but even more so given everything PVRIS endured in its creation.

What Fucked Up have done here is to take what they've been honing for the past 10 years and go one better, adding lush female vocals and celestial, electronica-inspired effects in an effort to constantly titillate and surprise.

This album does ooze quality though and has enough flourishes of originality to keep the quartet moving forward, but perhaps even more importantly for the band, their fans (and us, for that matter), the wait is over.

Spiral Shadow might just be the album of the year so far. All hail the kings (and queen) of nouveau-prog.

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.

If you had ever written the band off or traded them in for a younger model, this is the record that will force you to reconsider and repent.

It’s nothing revolutionary, but it’s nevertheless a formidable collection of songs by a formidable gathering of musicians.

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.

An impressive third effort indeed, designed to compel you to throw your fist skyward and indulge in a good old sing-song.

It'll probably help if you're on mushrooms, but nevertheless this is quite something.

Intimate, impressive, and ultimately cathartic, Stage Four is well worth your time.

Influences are obvious but the balance between light and dark is perfect here.

Front to back, start to finish, this is pop-punk for those who have lived, loved and lost and aren’t afraid to contemplate the fact that maybe, just maybe, it isn’t going to be their weekend or their year.

The riffs, breakdowns and complex time signatures thrown into 'Sleeping Giants' and 'Ghetto Ambience' lend the album a raw, live feel that's groundbreaking for any genre.

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

As usual, chaos and consistency make for a winning combination.

11 blistering, confrontational, and breathtakingly intense tracks.

Though this offering doesn’t quite live up to genre-busting, career-defining predecessor ‘Gospel’, engaging, inventive albums like this are yet more proof that pop-punk’s renaissance won’t fade away any time soon.

The Shadow Side contains some of the best material the man has been responsible for and proves Mr Biersack is one of the most captivating figures in music today.

Make no mistake, Gira has his mojo back and Swans are very much alive.

In Our Bones is a versatile, ballsy take on modern pop-rock, and it’s impossible not to sit back and admire as Chrissy, Dan and Will take another step on the way to superstardom.

To fans it'll undoubtedly shine as their best record yet, while the uninitiated may be about to find their new favourite band.

Now that they've finally given up the goods, it's easy to understand why they decided to go with what they already had because their eighth album is rooted firmly in hip-hop's old-school.

Equally experimental as it is disturbing, their latest musical experience doesn’t disappoint and is an altogether leftfield and very noisy affair.

Galloping metalcore anthem ‘You Want Me’ shows flashes of brilliance, too, but it’s difficult to escape the nagging feeling that their fourth record is the sound of a great band spreading themselves far too thinly.

With longer songs between their trademark short frenzied blasts, they maintain a clenched grip on how the ethos behind grassroots hardcore and the necessity of a modern punk fusion can mix effortlessly to create something truly special.

Listening to the album when fully engaged with the story of its creation is both exhausting and exhilarating. A heartbreaking work of staggering genius? Very possibly.

It's a war of emotion rendered in the most extreme tones and is more and more rewarding on every listen. One day, all bands will be like Dillinger.

As flashy as ever, the band have shaped their jumble of ideas into a more coherent, if eccentric whole.

They’ve succeeded in making a devastatingly heavy record that, bar the odd predictable breakdown, manages to steer clear of deathcore clichés and sets them apart from their peers.

There are plenty of moments on this record where it feels like Motionless have grown into their own skin; tugging at the heartstrings one moment and cutting straight to the bone the next.

From the barbed, Blink-182-esque pop-punk of ‘A Million Miles’ and grouchy, tongue in cheek call-outs of ‘Am I Deaf’ to sun-drenched ska numbers like ‘Don’t Let Me Go’, this is a mix of music for lounging by a pool, and tearing up a sweaty basement venue.

Phantom Anthem is an awful lot to stomach in one sitting, but those prepared to strap in and take the ride from guttural beginnings to dramatic conclusion will be rewarded with an album of intense grandeur and unmatchable ambition.

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

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.

Earth's continued trudge into beatific wilderness sees Dylan Carlson return to territory traversed by the desolate windswept tundras.

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.

Beartooth are a band that truly deliver songs for the disenfranchised.

Though riff addicts may find this slightly wanting, for the patient listener, Enemies have left a fitting swansong.

Its delicate, sparse build-and-explode approach is largely typical of what Last Young Renegade has to offer--anthemic yet atmospheric songs that are subtly affecting.

It lasts about two days, though, and even though the likes of 'Four Score And Seven' and 'To Old Friends And New' hum with energy and shoutalong choruses a little restraint would've worked wonders. An above-average Titus record is worth a dozen imitators, though.

This cements their position as one of the world’s most exciting, vital bands, and it’s unlikely you’ll hear many (if any) more impactful records in 2016.

With each song bleeding seamlessly into the next, there's little relief from all the doom and gloom, but regardless, this remains another worthy addition to Harvey Milk's awkward oeuvre.

Topping 2012’s ‘Get What You Give’ wasn’t going to be easy, but The Ghost Inside have kept up the momentum at the very least.

Helioscope represents another intriguing release from a band who remain a hugely promising proposition.

Tracks can bleed into one another, but their ideas are finally finding focus. This is Wovenwar, but a whole lot meaner, louder and more driven.

Like Wes Craven reanimating the slasher genre with the Scream franchise, The Black Dahlia Murder play with enough conviction and knowing reference to metal's most spectacular parlour tricks and add enough contemporary muscle to drop your jaw no matter your age.

Crusty, jarring and still as acerbic as ever, this is Cancer Bats at their best.

An outstanding return.

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.

Short of any psychotropic assistance, Wild Light is a credible substitute for nirvana, demanding you suspend your disbelief and just jump in feet first, setting yourself free from all corporeal existence.

Kieran Hebden’s first album as Four Tet in almost five years is perhaps his best yet, sealing his reputation for blending jazz, electronica and classical influences into seamless, shimmering soundscapes with an ever-mutating style.

This time around there’s more screaming and distortion a la ‘Jupiter’-era Cave In (‘The Refusal’), which somehow compliments the more melodic tracks here and only adds to what’s on offer.

A sterling second outing shot through with the admirable spirit of never tapping out.

The dweeb-core champs’ songs might as well come with a ‘kick me’ sign pinned to them, but the depth and quality of Holy Ghost is an exercise in kicking back and refusing to be defeated.

This is ace.

Duality is a full-blown orchestral dance-pop masterpiece that will make you throw your arms in the air with glee, even if you think you should know better.

Stunning.

It’s a clutch of sharp, abrasive punk anthems, underpinned by tight, funk-tinged rhythms.

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.

Lonely The Brave haven’t just succeeded in proving they were no one trick wonders here, they’ve gone and pulled another rabbit from the hat.

From the breakneck belligerence of ‘Balance The Odds’ to the nostalgic groove of ‘Step To You’, this is the purest strain of hardcore you could possibly mosh your life away to.

Drew’s definitely been reunited with his fury again, and it feels so good.

It's taken Title Fight a good while to release a full album, but it's been worth the wait.

Recitation finds the band at their genre-bridging best, sounding, if anything, even more euphoric and life-affirming than before.

Philly troubadour Dave Hause’s sophomore platter manages to stand proud while casually dipping into drive-time radio (‘Same Disease’) and blue collar balladry (‘Before’).

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.