A stinging reprise of ’93’s ‘American Jesus’ serves as a timely reminder that these perennial bastions of articulate dissent haven’t gone soft on us quite yet.

[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.

Merging brittle, jittery riffing, fraught tremolo-picked flutters with mesmeric drum patterns and tense, semi-spoken vocals the result is as resounding a success as ever and a reassuring testament to the ongoing fertility of the Louisville underground.

There’s no filler here, even the short instrumental numbers deserve their place as they break up the album into chapters. A surprisingly good follow-up, Life Is Sweet! Nice To Meet You is essential listening.

Beastmilk have created a seductively dark slab of post-punk which manages to not take itself too seriously, while still being brilliant enough for it not to become comical. And that’s a fine balance.

It’s impossible not to admire the scale and ambition of what Sleeping With Sirens are trying to achieve here, so don’t be too surprised if they’re swapping Warped Tour for arenas before too long.

Man Overboard have done a fine job of not only flying the flag high for DIY pop-punk, but also at emerging as the forerunners of the scene.

The elephant in the room though, is new vocalist Denis Stoff, and the questions over his ability to replace a gifted albeit difficult frontman. Largely, his quest is a triumphant one, and he turns in an admirable performance.

Closing with the smart anti-hymn 'Glory Hallelujah', England Keep My Bones never falters. The soundtrack to this summer? Screw that--these songs will be soundtracking many of our lives for years to come.

It won't be to everyone's tastes, but for those who like their metal both heavy and undeniably hook-laden, this is as satisfying an effort as you're likely to find.

Beach Slang’s second full-length does a stellar job of building on frontman James Alex’s knack for storytelling.

The fluidity is back, all the parts gelling easily into a whole.

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.

Loaded with heady guitar trips and crunching grooves, all topped off with flamboyant frontman Scott Weiland’s soulful vocal (which sounds all the better for his newly cleaned-up lifestyle), this is classic STP.

Gut-busting, heart-wrenching and captivating from vicious beginning to devastating conclusion, the likes of ‘Cannibals’, the jolting ‘Arkhipov Calm’ and beautifully excruciating title track capture the band at their most ambitious and dominant.

A fine new outing.

A brief but superb collection, this cements them as one of the most compelling acts in their genre.

It's good--really good--but only if you want it to be.

Alkaline Trio aren’t naïve punk rockers from the Chicago suburbs anymore, as a result this album fails to recapture that innocence but succeeds in creating another strong body of work that the group can be proud of.

All 10 tracks here bear such scars, adding up to a staggering work of honesty, beauty and artistic achievement. It’s hugely impressive on those terms alone... but even more so given everything PVRIS endured in its creation.

Say Anything have always been a hard pill to swallow for some, and while Anarchy doesn't change that, it shows that they have far more than just the one spanner in the toolbox.

Safe In Sound’ is clearly engineered for the airwaves; almost every song produced and polished to within an inch of its life. ... That’s not to say that Safe In Sound is without its triumphs – there’s still an abundance of riches to enjoy here.

A stunning opener to the album, its dynamic range, gleaming melody and driving anthemic nature exemplify what this band was always all about.

Though nowhere near the monolithic, bottled lightning of ‘The ’59 Sound’, this is a return to the Brian Fallon the rock world fell trucker caps over Chuck Taylors in love with.

Opener ‘Sponge’ leads off the cracking first half before a handful of (even) more introspective numbers add the expected emotional weight.

This brief addition to their canon might consist of just four songs, but it's a potent reminder of why we love them.

It's a gruff affair, yet Caruana's trademark gritty-subject-matter-meets-treacle-thick-melodies shines throughout, and marks a welcome return for I Am The Avalanche.

'No Answers' reassures any doubt that Thursday have taken a new direction, with Cure-esque moments creeping in amidst their hardcore backbone. And guess what? This is Thursday leading what they now do best.

All told, this is an almighty beast of a record--yet another in the now bulging Biffy Clyro canon. They’re well and truly settled into a creative groove now, making the improbable seem like a reflex, as easy and instinctive as breathing.

With no reason to buck the trend, Damage very much continues the Arizonan four-piece’s reliability streak.

With Brendan O'Brien (Pearl Jam, AC/DC) producing, Stephen Christian's vocals cry out louder than ever across closer 'Depraved' and it proves that five albums in Anberlin have moved beyond the light of 'New Surrender' to dabble with a more interesting, darker edge that borders on Circa Survive.

Still shrouded in mystery yet sounding clearer in their intentions than ever before, the familiar mix of strained vocals, propulsive yet unobtrusive instrumentation and haunted piano refrains serve as a perfect example of why we missed them so damn much in the first place.

Ultimately Immersion adds nothing new to the Pendulum experience, but still sees the band doing what they do best. Go immerse yourselves.

This is a superb record and WWPJ are one more example of just how spoilt we are by British rock music at the moment.

The riffs, breakdowns and complex time signatures thrown into 'Sleeping Giants' and 'Ghetto Ambience' lend the album a raw, live feel that's groundbreaking for any genre.

Beartooth are a band that truly deliver songs for the disenfranchised.

Though perhaps overly mechanical, Vengeance Falls remains compelling and staggeringly textured.

It’s the newfound multi-layered vocals of Mike Hranica and Jeremy DePoyster that give tracks like ‘War’ and ‘Sailor’s Prayer’ a compelling dexterity of textures and allows each track to venture into previously uncharted territory with the utmost conviction.

Every note here sounds like the logical conclusion to the evolution of each preceding record--a remarkable achievement.

Recitation finds the band at their genre-bridging best, sounding, if anything, even more euphoric and life-affirming than before.

Kaleide runs out of steam towards its close--heaven knows why the original, blustery version of "Smarts" has made way for a sombre reworking--but it's still an enjoyable, grown-up follow-up to the band's debut.

This album does ooze quality though and has enough flourishes of originality to keep the quartet moving forward, but perhaps even more importantly for the band, their fans (and us, for that matter), the wait is over.

The riffs remain as ample and hard-hitting as ever, and with Matt Bayles (Isis, Mastodon) handling the production, The Sword have never sounded better.

It may not be pushing the boundaries, keeping much of the stylisations of the band's debut, but the sum really is as great as all of its parts.

Partycrasher is still overflowing with singalong moments and air guitar opportunities that should remind you why A Wilhelm Scream are one of the best punk bands we’ve ever had.

As usual, chaos and consistency make for a winning combination.

The Menzingers' third album sees them take their slightly atypical song structures (they're not much into the verse / chorus / verse way of thinking) and make them catchier than ever.

A lofty debut effort indeed.

The Glaswegians' real USP is the way in which they inject everything they do with equal levels of joyous celebration and outright aggression, conjuring up a uniquely delirious sound throughout this disconcertingly unpredictable, but never less than utterly delightful release.

The Shadow Side contains some of the best material the man has been responsible for and proves Mr Biersack is one of the most captivating figures in music today.

Fever is unlikely to win Bullet For My Valentine more respect amongst their peers, but this could be the album to persuade non-believers.

This record is the result of Finn turning his hand to songwriting for the very first time and, yes, he's nailed it.

A great introduction to a band destined for very good things indeed.

Angry and scathing, Radke's return is welcome.

Without the hands of major label henchmen edging them into the most marketable direction, there's an overwhelming feeling that consumes you when listening to Don't Panic that they've had more time, more room to breathe, and more fun this time around.

This is perhaps BTBAM's most compact, streamlined effort to date, and despite the convoluted, sci-fi indebted concept which forms its lyrical foundation (Google it), this is a seriously aggressive half hour of power.

While it’s not the career-defining milestone that some were anticipating, this album still offers up enough melancholy mayhem to keep ADTR ahead of the chasing pack.

Chuck Ragan's third full-length solo release, oozes blue-collar charm.

An outstanding return.

Crossfaith’s debut full-length, Apocalyze proves more than worthy of the hype surrounding them.

American Capitalist announces them as the world champions at post-Black album piledriving riffs and soaring, US radio-friendly melodies.

Memphis May Fire are stepping it up with every release.

With power chord hooks and a newfound innocence, this is a side of The Bronx you’ve yet to hear.

Justifies the hype.

Lonely The Brave haven’t just succeeded in proving they were no one trick wonders here, they’ve gone and pulled another rabbit from the hat.

Super producer Ross Robinson has been given the unenviable task of bottling lightning, and he's certainly earned his money this time round; from Jonathan Davis' tortured, primal yelps to the pounding drums and a bass sound that ebbs and flows violently through your extremities.

It’s a clutch of sharp, abrasive punk anthems, underpinned by tight, funk-tinged rhythms.

This time around there’s more screaming and distortion a la ‘Jupiter’-era Cave In (‘The Refusal’), which somehow compliments the more melodic tracks here and only adds to what’s on offer.

Its delicate, sparse build-and-explode approach is largely typical of what Last Young Renegade has to offer--anthemic yet atmospheric songs that are subtly affecting.

On The Flood the transitions are so effortless, so seamless, that what emerges is a near-perfect example of how to marry potentially ill-fitting musical elements in stunningly effective fashion.

The Final Frontier might sound alien at first, but Iron Maiden's DNA is splashed all over it.

MCR have made an album that is as fun as it is meaningful, as experimental as it is familiar. Let's see the Daily Mail hijack this one...

Never pandering to trite post-rock tricks, I Was Here... is pretty damn special.

Far from being an inter-album stop-gap, this EP represents nothing less than the fruits of a musical brain that simply doesn't know how to stop creating goodness.

Pop sensibilities like these make some of the rhymes in the lyrics a bit predictable, but as they also result in choruses like those on 'The Joyride' and 'Circle Of Lies', it's forgivable.

While certainly an accomplished progression from 09's "Union" in terms of tempo, it's still a bit too midlevel and the band might stand out from their contemporaries if they were a bit more rough around the edges.

The album's extended title track take the catchier parts of their newer material (vocalist Chris Conley's infamous Beatles influences seem to mesh much better with their punk rock sound here), and then deliver it so tightly and concisely that it would be a total waste to rehash their glory days.

An impressive third effort indeed, designed to compel you to throw your fist skyward and indulge in a good old sing-song.

While Sean Slug Daley's heartfelt lyrics, reflecting humorously on fatherhood, love and loss, are given full vent by producer Ant, the addition once again of keyboardist Erick Anderson and guitarist Nate Collis brings Atmosphere's trademark sound to another level.

The Summer Set have conjured up a bubblegum-stained blast of modern pop rock that sounds just as good at the start of the weekend as it does at the end.

Phantom Anthem is an awful lot to stomach in one sitting, but those prepared to strap in and take the ride from guttural beginnings to dramatic conclusion will be rewarded with an album of intense grandeur and unmatchable ambition.

While Afraid Of Heights may fail to break any new ground, if you love this band’s idiosyncrasies, there is plenty to enjoy here.

Those of thinkers Catherine Keller and Gaston Bachelard--are more complex than you might at first imagine, making Asleep On The Floodplain an album whose surface you can lazily drift upon or one into which you can dive as deep as your lungs will allow.

While they’ve ramped up the production values on this follow-up, its nine tracks retain the reckless zest for life that have defined their creators’ output.

Although there are storming successes amongst the album's 11 tracks (such as 'Slaves To Substance' and 'You Only Live Once') The Black Crown falls a fraction shy of the pack-shedding statement it needs to be.

More than a decade on from ‘Orchestra Of Wolves’, Frank is still singing from a different hymn sheet to everyone else, and that’s well worth celebrating.

There is a sense of funk and bounce characterised by RATM on display here that gives the songs an underlying sense of conviction on top of Morello's already biting vocal approach.

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.

While none quite make it all the way, they do end up nestling rather nicely among the planets.

Asylum won't set the world alight, but it's certainly not monotonous enough to send anyone to the madhouse.

Born of isolation and introspection, Stomachaches is hugely likeable, and leaves everything on the table.

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 nothing revolutionary, but it’s nevertheless a formidable collection of songs by a formidable gathering of musicians.

The five-piece's dramatic Orient metal (their words) might not brace consistently but when it does it's unstoppable.

There are strings, spoken word sections and sweeping solos, so while the themes and melodies may sound familiar, the overall tapestry rarely wears thin.

This is still above average dude rock from the Canadian five-piece.

From the barbed, Blink-182-esque pop-punk of ‘A Million Miles’ and grouchy, tongue in cheek call-outs of ‘Am I Deaf’ to sun-drenched ska numbers like ‘Don’t Let Me Go’, this is a mix of music for lounging by a pool, and tearing up a sweaty basement venue.

This album is a perfect representation of what this band has and always will be--brave, real, and resolutely striving for something different.