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.

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.

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’.

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

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.

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.

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.