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.

Fortunately, Even in Arcadia’s minor quibbles are easily dwarfed by the height of its peaks. It isn’t quite an album of all-timers, but it’s more than enough to bring in wave after wave of gleaming gold spoils all over again.

The highlights are plentiful, from the misanthropic maelstrom of People Person, to the lolloping The Digger You Deep and the Pixies-esque Hate The Polis, but you don’t need to pan for gold when there’s so much of it.

Who Will Look After The Dogs feels more intensely personal than anything the band have made before.

As sweeping final ballad Excelsis picks up where previous closing tracks Life Eternal (Prequelle) and Respite On The Spitalfields (Impera) left off, compelling listeners to live life to the fullest with one eye on the inevitability of death, there’s surely no-one else living quite so deliciously on the level of The Devil.

While only the heads-down opener King Of Rome is presented in a radio-friendly three-minute format, there is much here that could lure newcomers into the twisted soundworld of the Melvins – as long as they don’t expect the next record to sound much like this one.

It’s absolutely fantastic. Where previously their records had sounded like a moment captured, a document of a fire blazing away, this is more controlled and deliberate, where everything arrives with the confidence of a heavyweight champ.

The Velveteers strut across many different dimensions, whether that’s through the means of dreamy ballads like the title-track, the cinematic, swaying Heaven or the hulking blues rock of Moonchild (with a sassy coda that demands that listeners get up and shimmy). It leaves a remarkable impression, so much so that even after a couple of plays, these songs feel like they’ve been in your life forever.

There are certainly moments here where what Pigs… provide is primarily big, dumb fun. But Death Hilarious also finds them thoroughly exploring their sonic and emotional range, the result an album which digs its hooks in deeper than ever.

Only Dust Remains is a brave, powerful and uncompromising album that holds nothing back, either in terms of Ashanti’s own life, or her views about what’s happening outside it. Yet bleak and dark as it is, there’s nevertheless hope to be found here.

Dreams On Toast is spread to the corners with the familiar and the fresh, equal parts self-awareness and self-regard, resulting in their finest album of this, the second coming of The Darkness.

There’s a gleaming shine on everything that fills it all with vitality. Far from a step back, or attempt to redress something, a return to heaviness is simply the next piece of the picture. That you can hear them fair running towards it with refreshed enthusiasm for such things only makes it sing all the louder.

If you loved Eternal Blue, this is the record you’d want to hear next, on which Spiritbox, empowered by confidence, go bigger and (occasionally) stranger. If, however, you felt Eternal Blue wasn’t quite bold enough, then strap in for something choppier.

Immersing themselves in the sea of literature and comic books available to flesh out the story, truly hardcore fans may find a deeper connection to these 14 songs, but it’s to the album’s immense credit that they won’t find a better listening experience than newcomers hitting ‘play’ for the first time.

A band with a curious alchemy, an ensemble of stylistic contrasts, pulling together to make a record of understated pleasures.

Processing pain does not mean wallowing in it, of course. The only way out is through. Ultimately, The Bad Fire feels like an acknowledgement of that, burning out neither in scalding catharsis nor cold resignation, but the radiant glow of a future still unwritten.

They’ve done something even more audacious than dropping a track with an off-the-scale number of C-words in it. They’ve dropped an album of the year contender just 10 days into 2025. Big power move, that.

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.

As scattered as it can be, its hit rate remains high and it’s never content to just coast.

Sure, not every song is something to write home about, and not everyone is going to be on board with a new singer, but as a piece of work, it’s a clear reminder of why Linkin Park reached the heights they did and continue to influence multiple generations of artists. Welcome back.

Anguished and uncomfortable as it may be, Chip King and Lee Buford have constructed a brutalist masterpiece, here.

Evergreen is a reminder of what an effective, emotive songwriter she can be.

It perhaps didn’t have to be so lengthy, especially when it’s made dense by a surplus of delicate ballads that sound just a tad too similar. However, its concept, eloquence and even just its sheer emotional weight all serve to make this record special nonetheless, both for its quality and as a document of Halsey’s survival.

It’s an addictive yet antagonising listen.

Added together, it makes for an instantly irresistible album that – just like its opening line – is frank, fearless, funny and fucking fantastic.