Souls is a sinewy beast, abundant with creativity, and while it ostensibly sounds like most other Maiden albums, there are subtle--or not so subtle--differences.

Beneath those perverted pop bounces, though, are some sadder, softer moments, and a reminder that Levi doesn’t just need discordant noise to twist your insides.

While the music may not always match up, the lyrics reaffirm The Libertines’ place as one of the most vital British bands ever and should usher a fresh generation of believers on board the good ship Albion.

It’s to the LA based quartet’s endless credit then, that they manage to not only make their revamping of the sound fresh and funny, but poignant too.

Whether dabbling in light or dark, the Nottingham trio are never anything short of exhilarating.

He may have softened his edge, upped the production and pulled in the stars, but The Weeknd remains an outsider.

He’s an impossible person, by all accounts--especially his own--but also an exceptionally expressive songwriter.

Miley Cyrus And Her Dead Petz is surely the weirdest album made by a massive pop star in recent memory, but more impressively, it's also an essential listen.

The Strypes maturing isn’t surprising or disappointing, but the loss of the identity that made their ascent so startling is. That it seems to have been swallowed up by an unoriginal and dated indie sound is all the more galling.

Yes, PiL have made better records. But it’s nice to know John Lydon still cares enough to rage.

An essential emotional pummelling as well as an aural one.

Foals [has the] potential to be the most inspired and inspirational band of their generation. All they need do now is let go of the safety rail and plunge.

Frustratingly, flashes of the wired energy that got them noticed in the first place are few and far between.

The expansive arrangements feel like unnecessary decoration. But on the billowing ‘You Got Me Time Keeping’ and sweet single 'Sometimes' Black's experiment works, injecting new flamboyance into his introverted songcraft.

One of the strongest punk debuts of 2015.

By the end, it’s more than enough noodling, but you can’t help but marvel as Drinks shred their fingertips.

It’s difficult to share the singer's awe when the musical backdrop sounds so tired.

The five tracks on M3LL155X feel like parts of a whole, musically and thematically connected in a way you wouldn’t necessarily expect from a between-albums EP.

The 10 [tracks] he chose form a supple, sedated record that's immaculate throughout.

With High, they’ve recorded an almost perfect 30 minutes of indie-punk. There’s no flabbiness, no million-dollar production that adds nothing to the songs, no bloated guitar lines or pointless drum fills and nothing that even comes close to seeming in any way meaningless.

The music itself, meanwhile, has become more brooding and lugubrious: in keeping with the old clichés Spector seem to live by, you could characterise 'Moth Boys' as their 'difficult' second album, the product of failed relationships, life on the road and more disposable income to spend on synthesizers.

Eyes Wide Tongue Tied is more testament to subtlety and getting the basics right.

They’ve honed their approach to a point where they can’t really sound like anyone except themselves. Mostly, though, this is the key to the deep likeability of Stuff Like That There.

The problem is, while the music is as violently powerful as ever, the rage, anger and lyrical bite are starting to sound seriously forced.

Overall, it feels like listening to a rocket preparing for take-off before shooting out into deep space, and if this doesn’t get you dancing, you’re probably clinically dead.

At 16 tracks long, it’s a dense, textured offering that--on numbers like the lush ‘Love Streams’--manages to shimmer with both nimble experimentation and languid pop finesse.

While Green Lanes doesn’t exactly break new ground, it does refine their warm’n’cosy formula enough to interest.

The record works as just five songs.