You Wish contains some exciting flashpoints, but it's also missing that prolonged sense of potency to draw you in further. .... Nevertheless, you can only applaud them for leaping out of the safety net of Doom Loop into a whole new world.

Megadeth (the album) is the perfect encapsulation of how Megadeth (the band) have lived: bold, frequently brilliant but occasionally flawed.

The only letdown is a cover of Dead Or Alive’s YOU SPIN ME ROUND (Like A Record), where for all of Thomas’ squalling riff work, it’s obviously just there as padding as it doesn’t quite fit in, and Franz Ferdinand’s Alex Kapranos performs as if it’s mere karaoke. Other than that, Thomas has masterminded a very solid collection of songs and though they’re not stretching rock ‘n’ roll to entirely new dimensions, they offer a tantalising glimpse into who this man is when he’s not a cog in a bigger machine.

Consistently, Watch It Die is easy listening. That’s a compliment, given the way that gnarly guitar lines and shouted vocals can intertwine with synth lines you’d expect from The Killers, such as the motoring thump of Between The Waves. It’s also a critique on the simplicity of some melodies.

Taking artistic plunges in areas outside garage punk is not for them, but this fifth album is nevertheless a solid half hour of what the Kentucky outfit do best.

There are some lulls, mind. Sometimes the moodiness threatens to drown the melody, and not every track earns its philosophical baggage. .... But Learning Greek is never boring. It's chaotic, clever, and just unhinged enough to charm the eyeliner off your face.

At its best, I Beat Loneliness is revelatory. Elsewhere, sadly, it’s rote. Gavin may claim to have beaten loneliness, but he’s been thwarted by his own ambitions.

We’re left with something that isn’t Volbeat’s best album, but is a candidate for their most interesting.

While not quite the box of delights Garbage shook at us last time, there’s persistent allure in the mating of cavernous soundscapes with Shirley’s penetratingly icy vocals.

Written on the road – between hotels and practice rooms across continents – the sense of freewheeling momentum is undoubtedly UNATØNED’s greatest strength, capturing the roadworn charisma and runaway force of the Machine Head 2025 live show. But with it comes a jettisoning of the tonal consistency and sprawling songcraft that defines their finest recorded work.

Perhaps mastering a sense of duality is what Rico Nasty is gunning for – harsh and soft, or trap and rock. At the same time, there’s not quite enough sense of focus to suggest that’s the case. Should she find that, or find a way to blur all these sounds into something cohesive and singular, she could be unstoppable.

It’s not an easy listen, in both an emotional and sonic sense. But, as an individual experience, it’s hard to ignore the boldness with which Hayden realises her vision, and the terrifying impact that such unfiltered, uncomfortable ambience can hold.

An album which initially goes in hard on horrorcore lyrics, before broadening out into social reportage and geo-political comment. Along the way, there are guests galore and one piece quite unlike anything else the band have put their name to.

Opeth have broken new ground, entered fresh realms both oppressive and melodic – but their rapier-like determination to be different may be too much for some.

There are a couple of marvellous moments – namely the shapeshifting Mezzanine and the agonising regret of Finalist – but often Spiral In A Straight Line settles into itself too much.

True, it’s also an often familiar-sounding form – that same chord progression at varying speeds, faster than Bad Religion, slower than NOFX – but they also sound like themselves again.

Sløtface’s third album leaves the feeling of a musical outfit undergoing a bit of a rebirth, but one that’s brimming with promise. Don’t bet against Haley making this new incarnation of Sløtface even better as they continue to find their sound.

It's a record as sweet as 20 pumpkin spice lattes, with Gravity ('She keeps pulling me like gravity, everywhere she goes') and Perfume ('I wanna make you my girl / I wanna make you my world') sticking out as notable offenders, while the equally syrupy Kiss Me Again is also a little boilerplate. That said, it’s all rather endearing, especially for those who relate enough to the sentiment to be swept up by it.

It’s not, in fact, an exaggeration to say that there are moments on this album that almost replicate the visceral intensity of vomiting. Partly that’s due to Michael’s guttural growls, a voice that rattles and chokes on itself as it exits his mouth. Around it, though, is a brutally cacophonous swirl of sound that, especially on the title-track, is harrowing and – oddly, paradoxically, confusingly – comforting.

A record that contains a number of inspiring moments, but, on the whole, Another Day doesn't quite assert itself in the context of their back catalogue.

Irreverence and wilful expendability means quality control goes out the window. Denzel’s titular mischievousness and biting charisma can do a lot of heavy lifting, but with everyone from TiaCorine and A$AP Ferg (HOT ONE) to Ty Dolla $ign and Juicy J (COLE PIMP) piling in, it’s a turbulent flow. Fortunately, flashes of genius keep shining through.

Unquestionably the most proggy proposition on the album, this tune [L’Enfant De La Lune] shifts through different passages like a receptacle for all the musical touches Alcest have at their disposal. As such, it’s part of a listening experience which often feels like something of a journey, and if the specific destination is ambiguous, the direction is very much into the light.

Nonetheless, even if the follow-up to 2022’s Garageband Superstar isn’t wildly innovative, there’s a smorgasbord of catchy tunes fizzing with sugary energy.

Despite only clocking in at 42 minutes it feels like it drags on for ages. And the copious use of samples to remind you it’s an industrial record gets tiring.

EndEx doesn’t win many points for going where no band has gone before. The album, and its creators, do deserve credit for continuing the Fear Factory tradition, as an industrial metal band preoccupied with questions of how technological advancements adversely affect our lives. If you fear the future, this is the soundtrack for you.

Very occasionally, such as during the first half of the otherwise excellent Crashed Out Wasted, that compulsion to pour honey in our ears can lead to a little too much saccharine. But on the whole, Race The Night is a journey worth taking, deftly hitting all of the touchpoints that make Ash such a special band.

True, not all these 10 songs are gonna be fan-favourites, but this return at least partly captures the sense of catharsis brought so brilliantly to that stage in South Wales.

Alas, as with other City and Colour albums, this one suffers from moments of terminal blandness.

Dying Of Everything does not match or beat its predecessor, but that is not to say that it is lacking in any department, for it is a crushing slab of the dark’n’hard stuff executed with merciless precision and delivered with a killer mix.

The bad news for Disturbed fans, and unsurprising news for their detractors, is that Divisive is an average record. Hearing the first three tracks – opening single Hey You, the leaden Bad Man, and the forgettable title-track – one hopes they’re mere aberrations and that the quality high-octane arena fodder will arrive imminently. Alas, it never does.

It’s very pleasantly chill, but after a while it does start to get a touch samey. Still, for those looking for something with vibe firmly in place, as ever, Turnover deliver exactly what you’re looking for here.

As a big, glossy rock record that finds Bush aging both gracefully and garishly, The Art Of Survival is a success, even if it’s unlikely to win over any those who’ve remained immune to the band’s charms so far, and isn’t innovative enough to ensnare new listeners.

Opener The Funeral presents a far less cartoonish performer than he was on 2020's overly-cute second album Weird!. This alone makes the whole thing magnitudes more enjoyable. The energised electro-pop of Memories (a duet with WILLOW) and the brooding Sex Not Violence continue on a similar tack, showing a width of creative goalpost while actually keeping things together.

There are still elements of The Fall in the taut rhythms and the brief but potent guitar flashes are occasionally reminiscent of Jon Spencer or J. Mascis. As a whole piece, though, My Other People sees TV Priest continue to map out their own increasingly intriguing identity.

In truth not every track on BLEED HERE NOW quite justifies its inclusion. A trimmed down version would have been the best …Trail Of Dead album in 20 years, but this sprawling incarnation remains a comforting reminder of the warmth and weirdness of these perennial outsiders.

Not all of World Below lives up to this early promise. You can find songs like Poor Old Me – wonky guitar, jaded sarcasm – filling out landfill indie releases from the ’00s. However, late highlight Midnight twists heads with grinding industrial rhythms.

While DISCO4:: PART II isn't perfect, it's definitely worth your time.

John Frusciante’s performance is effective and restrained, and drummer Chad Smith shines when he’s let loose, notably on These Are The Ways. There are, however, way too many tracks that miss their marks, trying to supplant the old energy with wisdom; the magik with maturity.

The one thing holding Diaspora Problems back, save for its disappointing lack of hooks, is that it doesn’t exploit its strengths as fully as it might.

Machine Gun Kelly’s detractors will likely have you believe Mainstream Sellout is terrible. It isn’t, but nor is the fire burning as bright as it once was. There’s some fun to be had here, but ultimately, this is the weakest record of MGK’s rock era so far.

There are no crashing power chords, OTT theatrics or questionable haircuts to worry about on All The Truth That I Can Tell. Just an open-hearted, increasingly middle-aged man, his acoustic guitar, and the same brand of chest-swelling songwriting many of us have known since we were young.

Blood Incantation have definitely achieved what they set out to accomplish and it’s by no means executed poorly, it’s just lacking the instantaneous spark that their previous two releases encompassed.

Ultimately, there are enough ideas on display here to just about see Twin Atlantic right. While it may not be a clear-cut success, Transparency does prove once again that its creators have it in them to be bloody great.

On Motorheart The Darkness’s timekeeping is impeccable and with songs about shagging droids their virility proven beyond doubt. As for staying on the right side of that fine line, give the boys credit; two outta three ain’t bad.

Bottom-heavy power dynamic shines on tracks like Dark Horse, a parade of colossal bass drums and Demi’s pseudo-organ effects wizardry, which then reveals its true colours with a flourish of doomy, speaker-blowing riffs.

Despite Tom’s superlative guitar playing tying it all together, the way it switches genres and atmosphere so chaotically ultimately makes it too uneven to really work as an album. Still, there are plenty of gems here, and – given how disparate it all is – probably something for everyone, no matter where your musical tastes lie.

In general this is a more reflective, far darker album than we’re used to from the former god of partying.

At no point is it bad, and sometimes it’s rather good, but nothing here is particularly essential.

Hideaway could perhaps have done with a few more leftfield moments, then, because while it’s breezy and over before you know it, that’s largely because the majority of it is in one sedate speed setting.

On the whole, they should definitely be commended for their ambition in mixing things up at this stage of the game, the result making for a compelling, quite fascinating collection.

Atreyu’s act of streamlining has sanded many of their edges clean off, leading to moments that sound like they’ve been made by anyone but the actual authors.

You can’t help but feel that some creative tension and idea-bouncing in there might have led to some more invention and exploration in the album’s midsection. Nevertheless, though, this is still an impeccably delivered slab of hard rock fun.

The band’s desire to suffuse their sound with new tones and textures is admirable and frequently pays dividends, but there are moments when that drive to evolve leads them to either cleave too close to other bands or stray too far from their own fundamentals.

BUMMER is an album where cleopatrick excel more than they struggle. Their sound could do with a little streamlining, but for a debut LP, this is a bold and at times very enjoyable effort.

As it is, the highlights just about mitigate the lack of surprises, making it a Red Fang album with a bite that doesn’t grip quite as much or as hard as we’ve been used to.

There are times on Scaled And Icy where things just feel a little safe. Overall, though, Scaled And Icy is a good record which balances out the occasional underwhelming moment with flashes of brilliance that could only come from its creators.

A composed and well-thought-out record, Life In Your Glass World doesn’t exactly shatter expectations, but what it does showcase is a talented band operating with a fully-fledged confidence and faith in their craft, and that’s more than fine by us.

So far, so good then. It’s a takeaway reinforced by most of the album, in fact. ... Where Let The Bad Times Roll will likely divide opinion is in the mid-point, three-track swing of the aforementioned, ice-hockey-goal-music swagger of Coming For You, the bookending, rocked-up cover of evil orchestral classic In The Hall Of The Mountain King, and the embarrassing dad overshare of We Never Have Sex Anymore.

While the first half of Is 4 Lovers takes a jackhammer to old, if still relatively fertile ground (hey, why have one song called NYC Power Elite when you can have two?), the second half dials down the pulverising and amps up the pulsating on less frenzied, more electronic songs such as Love Letter and Glass Homes.

There are no surprises here, it simply feels as though they’re picking up from where they left off from seven years ago; if you’ve ever listened to one of their albums before then this will feel instantly familiar.

The Lunar Injection… is too long and could easily be trimmed of material most diplomatically described as ​‘non-essential’, particularly the little instrumentals/sample-laden wig outs between tracks. The rub is, of course, that these short sonic mood boards are often the bits where Zombie tries something new.

Trauma Factory’s straight-up rap moments are more hit-and-miss, with the likes of exile and upside down feeling coherent enough but lacking in bite, demonstrating how nothing,nowhere. sounds best when the musical backdrop is thicker and leans more into the heavier side of Joe’s sound.

While at some points their aversion to easy melody and obvious structure hoists them by their own petard, there’s more than enough strange stuff here to quicken the pulse and capture the heart.

FLOWERS for VASES / descansos continues what Petals For Armor started in showing just how much of Hayley Williams we still have to get to know as an artist. The Paramore question mark continues to hover, but here Hayley has once again shown that there’s more to her than one band.

Mr Wilson has travelled all over the musical map, but appears to be more direct in wanting bigger results this time around. Is it better than what he’s done before as a result? Not always, but it’s the next blockbusting step from an artist who’s always done things on his own sonically strange terms.

After a while the hell-raising wears thin, though, and Luke’s jugular-bulging yells start to sound indistinguishable between songs. But when the Nil’s no-holds-barred approach comes good, it’s glorious.

Neither Boris nor Merzbow are particularly known for their music being concise, and of course this opus is no exception — clocking in at almost 90 minutes it takes its sweet time making its point. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing, as they unhurriedly pick apart their previous material it provides fresh perspective and an opportunity to rediscover.

Weird! is a collection of good moments disappointingly hidden under an avalanche of sugar.

NOTHING, a band noted for their none-more-dour demeanour using a black hole as inspiration might be a little too on-the-nose for some tastes. At a time when hope feels in scant supply, wade into the blackness of these waters at your own discretion.

The main selling points of this album are a sleek production job and the technical performance of vocalist Conor Mason, who once again proves himself to be in possession of some serious lungs. The problem, however, is that despite the surface sheen, too many of Moral Panic’s songs fail to really go anywhere.

A reminder of how fun music can be. Sure, it’s not as joyous as Morbid Stuff, but for a stopgap to keep fans going in these bewildering times, it does the job nicely.

It’s a fun, if not unusual listen, that ploughs deeper into the band’s flirtations with synth-pop and electronic experimentation. It’s lacking in the enormity expected of a celebration of 25 years of existence and this is not necessarily a bad thing, however, as it’s a further example of Ulver’s ability to push the envelope and keep their music fresh and exciting.

NOFX’s take on Frank’s tracks turn them into turbo-charged So-Cal workouts without really having to do too much to them beyond playing them really fast. Frank’s contributions, meanwhile, see him doing a raucous version of Bob and Perfect Government in his own charming manner, while his take on reggae number Eat The Meek is smart and sharp.

Ultimately, Bush devotees who lived through the alt.rock ‘90s will find much to love about The Kingdom. But it is also an album delivered with Rossdale’s customary style and panache, not to mention tunes that sit elegantly alongside the likes of Everything Zen and Swallowed.

A sensory overload that doesn't let up. [28 Mar 2020, p.51]

At its best, Hvman:||:Natvre has the impressive magic that has made Nightwish one of Europe’s biggest bands. But there’s a feeling this time that for such a big concept, things haven’t gone quite far enough.

Much of the album is minimalist in its approach, allowing Jonas Renkse’s vocals to guide the way against a kaleidoscopic soundscape of soft melodies that feel almost ethereal.

A strange, unruly offering. The momentous, squalling dissonance of the curtain-raising Reducer seems to signpost where they’re going, but then they spin off into a twisted, eight-track labyrinth.

Across 12 tracks, it does get a little samey, but then again, individual songs aren’t the entire point here. This is a record that creates an atmosphere around itself, a world of its own, without sounding twee or like something from a real ale festival. A curio, maybe, but a heartfelt and skilfully realised one from a genuinely unique artist.

They deliver a raw brand of garage-punk that isn't exactly new but remain fresh in these hands. [14 Mar 2020, p.73]

For the most part, Ice plays with middle-age, cranking up the grumpy-old-man persona he established on 2014’s Institutionalized with tongue-in-cheek glee and riding it through the exploitation movie excess of Thee Critical Beatdown.

Frequently bursts with the impactful emotion now expected from its creators. [11 Jan 2020, p.57]

This new solo album is at its strongest when Greg finds new ways to express himself. Where there are traces of the Whigs’ soul power, as on Sempre and The Tide, it’s hard not to compare the songs unfavourably to his day job.

Humanist finds former Exit Calm man Rob Marshall crafting a brooding songbook fuelled by echoing post-punk guitars, steely beats and electronic embellishments.

The music itself is minimalist, but still manages to conjure an intense darkness, aided by the haunting drawl of guitarist Reid Bateh. [15 Feb 2020, p.55]

Frontman Tyler Connolly spends a little less time moping than previously, and throws in subjects such as domestic violence, racism and politics, but when the musical backing is this over-polished and ultimately mundane, it’s hard to care what he’s singing about.

Finding new ways to bring the heavy. [1 Feb 2020, p.55]

10 tracks that are easily the weirdest, the boldest and – yes – most powerful material that the group have stuck their name on.

Occasionally, Thin Mind lacks the energy to truly achieve lift off, but maturity has given Wolf Parade room to roam. [11 Jan 2020, p.57]

As ever, the line between sincerity and mawkishness is down to the ear of the beholder, but maturity is creeping into Beach Slang’s songs of eternal punk rock youth, and here their bleeding heart is in the right place.

While it’s not a classic of the Corgan canon, it does feel like he’s enjoying himself immensely doing it. And we’re happy enough to hear that. [7 Dec 2019, p.53]

Get The Money might not set the world ablaze like the rock bands to which it is clearly indebted, but it sounds like Taylor burning one while rocking on. Which means there’s still plenty here to put a smile on your face.

While Daemon is not without its evil edge, there's a bounciness to it that makes it an interesting and, oddly, occasionally fun listen. [2 Nov 2019, p.55]

It's a pleasant enough record, but not one that will rouse or inspire beyond Dallas' already charmed following. [12 Oct 2019, p.55]

Eccentric in all the right ways, No Home Record is just poppy enough to be accessible, yet edgy enough to satisfy even the pickiest of old school noise-rock fans. [12 Oct 2019, p.55]

It’s a good album, though not an Opeth classic. It occasionally meanders and feels in need of a few more truly golden moments to tie its various eccentricities together into a brilliant whole.

Corpse Flower is an album for completists. [15 Sep 2019, p.55]

As good as Heavy Fire? Nope, but it's another superb shot of classic-spirited heavy rock from masters of their craft. [7 Sep 2019, p.55]