A lot of it is quite earnest, dealing with subjects like rejecting the mainstream (‘Run Boy Run’) and, on ‘I Love You’, unrequited love.

A Thousand Heys reeks of wrong-side-of-the-pond, washed-out lo-fi revival as much as the vocals.

The formula wears pretty thin towards the end--bee-stung emoting in the verses, splashy catharsis in the chorus--but Glorious is no failure.

Rival Schools have finally returned from an inexplicably long hiatus to demonstrate why they're such luminaries for today's post-hardcore hordes.

Listen once, chuckle lightly, rip 'Together,' then run a fucking mile. [9 Oct 2004, p.57]

‘Eyeshadow’ treads more familiar ground, thrillingly injecting the Welshmen’s knack for an anthemic chorus with Thursday’s pulsing, wide-eyed intensity. Rickly fans may be uneasy with No Devotion's softer synthpop moments though.

Taking inspiration from the best seems to have paid dividends, but it doesn’t half make you wonder what the real Harry Styles sounds like.

Ultimately, the album is weighed down by its very gentleness. [30 Apr 2005, p.64]

Sawdust reveals a band with a healthy blueprint for success, sure, but "The Masterplan" it ain't.

Sure, there's the odd thoughtful spot of violin, like on "Give Me Shapes," but the record's relentless rawness eventually bleeds into a murky burble.

While it’s heartwarming to see Lauv’s newfound openness, the album is – ironically, given his most persistent theme – missing a little something.

Some other stylistic choices prevent ‘New Last Name’ from being the disruptive moment it clearly wants to be – ‘Flex’ and its nod to ‘Mr Brightside’ (“now she’s calling a cab”), doesn’t quite land – but the album’s overall vibrancy doesn’t dim on repeated listens.

His new set is disarmingly jaunty, occasionally odd – as on the scratchy electro-folk of ‘Don’t Want To Sleep Tonight’ – and frequently lovely, chiefly on the parched reverie of ‘Ballad Of Fuck All.’

More than anything, annoying for the fact that in its moments of brilliance, it's the catchiest, danciest jangly guitar pop you'll hear this side of the summer. Sadly, those moments are few and far between.

Had the entirety of ‘Brassbound’ been as polished as these final two tracks, the Boys would be closer to the promise they exhibited on their debut. Instead, they’ve produced – and have the frightening candour to admit to – their “second debut”.

So 'A Bigger Bang' is no masterpiece. As a loss leader to allow them to continue touring, it's not even as good as 'Don't Believe The Truth'. But it's the best record they were going to make, and a world with the Stones is better than one without them.

But just before sheen threatens to turn to smarm, The Research acknowledge twee works best when a dark side lurks just beneath the surface.

Australia’s Chet Faker has a pretty big hole to dig himself out of on his debut. Singing no faster than 2mph doesn’t help either, but there’s an unexpected range in his schtick that’s disarming.

Pure melodic thrills for a while, but those with low twee tolerance should steer clear.

Ultimately, we’re left wondering: have Liars lost it, or found themselves?

Happily, it makes a good go of bucking the trend here and there, with singer Bill Janovitz's full-throated delivery investing his words with the kind of gritty undercurrent of self-loathing and inner torment that makes Skins jolt with bursts of fresh energy.

It’s good to hear Sprints develop on ‘All That Is Over’, but to do so without extinguishing that fire is the fine line they walk.

This is more entirely predictably absurd bludgeoning death metal silliness from the kings of its kind.

It takes a while to work out what an absolute waste of 21-year-old Londoner Naomi McLean-Daley's incredible talents this album is.

The album lacks that bouncy, bratty energy of old, while never really nailing a more grown-up emotional register. Even so, glad that they're still there.

Perhaps its issue is that it’s quite hard to feel anything throughout its running time beyond a sense of general malaise.

With a comeback pitched between the indulgent love-metal of HiM and the pubescent pop-punk of Fall Out Boy, AFI's hiatus looks increasingly less like laziness and more like a marketing masterstroke.

'Endless Wire' isn't quite as awful as it should be. [28 Oct 2006, p.33]