Ferocious and beautiful--Funeral For A Friend sound more like themselves than they have done in years.

True, at an hour-plus, only myopic fans would contest Forgiveness drags a little by the end, albeit brightened by penultimate Pavement-a-like ditty 'Water In Hell'.

The eagerly anticipated album from London based indie-rock three-piece The Joy Formidable far exceeds all expectation.

Is ninth record ‘Everything Will Be Alright In The End’ in the same league as 1994’s Blue Album or its follow up ‘Pinkerton’? Not quite, but it gives it a good go.

Ixora is an impressive revival that shows there’s life in these stalwarts yet.

It adds up to another deft, mature and utterly addictive release.

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.

Rave Tapes is a diverse and supremely confident record.

Unfocused and indistinct, this is an awkward transition that skews towards by-numbers radio-rock.

While hardly what you’d call commercial, ‘Oversteps’ contains some of the pair’s most approachable material for aeons, with their usual alien and sometimes hostile soundscapes peppered with vibrant melodies, particularly on the swirling brooding ambience of ‘Ilandrers’ and bright, fizzing ‘Treale’.

The melodies are huge, the hoarse vocals are fairly infrequent – but this is probably one of the most punk rawk albums Rise Against have recorded.

Front-loaded with jagged riffs and the squalls of Matt Shultz, this is storming.

It's a frenetic, hugely entertaining and inventive genre mash-up full of punk rock aggression and rock 'n' roll swagger that blends inventive chaos with a real ear for melody.

For all the album’s heart and scope it does suffer from a lack of fire and fun that made their earlier releases such big successes.

One of punk’s few great constants, the Chicago four-piece are back and as furious as ever with this eighth album. As you’d expect, they don’t fumble the ball.

This is music that creates a vortex in your brain, sucking the entire cosmos in through one ear and out the other, leaving behind only the secrets of the universe and the unerring tranquillity of space. Yes. It really is that good.

It feels like they've truly accomplished what they set out to do.

Glasgow’s finest nerdtronica--in the sense they’re slavishly dedicated to unveiling ever-intricate ways to make us shake a leg – quartet have returned with a second album that takes the charm of their debut and cranks up the rave factor.

Whatever's being said, though, what's great about The King Blues is that they're always unashamedly frank; with a frontman who wouldn't dream of diverging his accent or over-developing his message, they've set storming music to a totally concise, relevant stream of consciousness.

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 noticeably darker than '09s Attics To Eden, but they've strategically kept their arrangements succinct and tight to keep their signature catchiness.

While the majority of tracks like ‘FML’ and ‘The Weigh Down’ continue in a similar vein, with crushing slabs of aggression offset by sing-from-the-rooftops choruses, the Aussies venture into less formulaic territory with ‘Forest Fire’ and ‘Give It All’, allowing Let The Ocean Take Me to work out its own identity.

e – BSC are at their best with a sledgehammer riff and Magic Mountain is full of them.

Replete with ramshackle tales of bar brawls (‘I Had A Hat’) and barely scraping by (‘Sandlot’), this ninth album feels warm and familiar--but there’s more beneath the surface.

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

[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.

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

It sees the band sounding tighter and more confident than ever on the likes of ‘Reading Youtube Comments’ and probable live favourite-to-be ‘Donny’s Woods’.

This is a difficult album to love... the overriding impression is of a not entirely pleasant sugar rush.

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

Recent records have seen the band veer dangerously close to the saccharine. Thankfully --and despite its dubious title--For My Parents manages, for the most part, to avoid these pitfalls.

While it doesn’t quite compete with the very best their genre has produced this year, There Used To Be A Place For Us slots comfortably into the folder marked Perfectly Acceptable 2013 Pop-Punk.

Their sound, now more than ever, is a paradox: despite the Cure-ish grey waves of guitar and Spencer Krug's morose vocal tics, Wolf Parade can't conceal the fact that being in a band is clearly terrific fun for them.

Like every true outlaw before them, The Icarus Line haven't mellowed with age; they've gotten gnarlier.

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.

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.

Songs For Singles is unmistakably a Torche record; primal, punishing, yet irresistibly sweet. It may make a mockery of the traditional album format, but then again, would you expect anything less?

While tracks such as Broken Home still deliver the crushing might (albeit in a more subliminal fashion) to his other outfit, the recently resurrected Godflesh, there's a sense of hope in the levitation-inducing riffery. Stellar.

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.

While forward movement isn't a prerequisite of greatness, Unearth have moved sideways with only partial success.

You figure they should know what they're doing by now and the former members of JR Ewing and Amulet certainly illustrate their capabilities.

The likes of 'The Resist Stance' and 'Someone To Believe' burn with righteous anger and the energy of a band half their age. Only the closer, the toothless 'I Won't Say Anything', isn't up to scratch. A fine addition to their cannon.

Gareth’s vocal is less shrill these days, his lyrics are less desperate (though just as despairing), and the band’s soundscapes are increasingly diverse....A big step forward.

Even at its most meandering points (‘Nowhere Lullaby’), the tangents on ‘There Is No Enemy’ feel purposeful. Martsch’s lyrics remain wry and erudite, but he’s back to expressing himself in a more whimsical fashion and, more importantly, writing actual melodies.

Overall, it’s an impressive progression on all counts.

The results are shufflingly majestic, loaded with blissful truths and, it must be said, startlingly close to perfect.

Possessing a grandeur that never descends into pomposity and a restraint that could never be mistaken for bland aural wallpaper, this is undoubtedly one of the most beautiful releases you’re likely to hear over the coming months.

Production-wise, the vocals could do with sounding more 'live' (they are note perfect)--but the musicianship present is enough to justify the polish.

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

At just seven tracks The Beautiful Stories is a touch slight, but whether it’s the ’80s guitar tones or quiet insistence of the quintet’s lyrics, it’ll leave a much longer impression.

Motionless In White’s third full-length sees them firming up the sound they settled on with last album ‘Infamous’, but with varying degrees of success.

Everything’s here from a band that still pack arenas, whilst there’s enough progression to ensure they’re ahead of their peers.

This album seamlessly flits from one brilliantly bold idea to another with no dips in quality.

Justifies the hype.

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

This album sets the band on their surest footing for years and proves that Anthony Green and friends can still hang. After all this time away, that’s more than enough.

Even if it doesn’t all hit the bullseye, at least they’ve dared to stray from the beaten path.

It’s nowhere near as hot as the real prime stuff the early ’80s gave us (Poison Idea, Void, Tar Babies, that sort of thing) and still lags behind the young ‘uns who’re keeping the genre fresh and vital.

As a whole, Close The Distance is a touch lacking for our ears.

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.

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.

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.

The Human Romance is how metalcore should be: layered, dynamic, passionate. Easily the best Darkest Hour have been since "Undoing Ruin."

This preposterously technical mish-mash of progressive metal, full-throated hardcore, operatic female vocals and lounge jazz interludes triumphantly evidences a band taking an absurd amount of joy in kicking against the pricks.

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.

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.

At times the results are exhilarating, as on the superb ‘Moth Into Flame’ and doomy death-march of ‘Confusion’--written from the perspective of a soldier with post-traumatic stress disorder--but there’s a smattering of filler, too. Too many tracks outstay their welcome by a matter of minutes.

It’s an album dripping with class, craft, heart and soul and Deaf Havana’s most accomplished to date--a step out of their comfort zone and a step up in every regard.

The frontman sounds great as ever, as on the powerful ‘Fabuless’ and ‘The Witness Trees’, but his usual conviction isn’t as present and the album feels largely colourless.

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.

Throughout, the highs are tinged with sadness and the lows with hope, making Simple Math a complex and rewarding album that soars above the pack.

While this may not be the straight-up punk that fans of 2012’s ‘Two Year Plan’ know and love, Such Gold are showing a thirst for progression, and that’s not something to be sniffed at.

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.

This record will reward repeat spins generously.

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 resulting sound is one of wistful melancholia, designed for dark rooms, loud headphones and the flickering feeling that while life can be shitty at times, there’s always a chance to find happiness.

While several tracks would sit comfortably on a Best Of ...Trail Of Dead playlist Tao Of The Dead certainly feels like their most consistent collection in years.

There's no let-up, no pretty acoustic interludes, just full-on musical onslaught.

ATB have found a collective cutting edge that’s both extreme and versatile.

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.

Wade through the filler, and the New York stalwarts haven’t sounded this fun in ages.

There are enough special moments and poignant observations here to recommend a peek into the gloom.

While they continue down a more measured, accessible route--calling to mind everyone from The Clash to Rancid--there’s a freshness to the anarchy this time. Here’s a welcome beacon of hope.

This is a worthy follow-up. Its 12 sultry, sumptuous songs see Brennan Greaves and Britty Drake swap turns singing over a wash of fuzzy, forlorn guitars.

We also love to party and this third effort from Cobra Starship screams ‘party’ right from blast off.

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

It does mean that their eponymous third release for Thrill Jockey can be rather prosaically boiled down to: if you like whooshy spacerock, you’ll like this.

They've not lost their ability to craft subtly alluring, idiosyncratic songs in that time.

Earworms are decidedly less abundant than normal, though, sad to say.

Pure metal it ain’t. Pure fun, it sure is.

By the time the closing brass-driven sequences of the 3D-fronted ‘Almost Air’ ebb away, Massive Attack feel like a living, breathing vital force once again.

The Texas crew have created a piece of art that probes into what it means to love and be loved with real intent and passion. If you’ve slept on this band up until now, it’s time to change that.

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.

Stunning.

Not good, not bad, just is.

Featuring two members of the late great Jay Reatard's band--the towering garage rawk that defined his sound is tangible with Wavves too but here left to bathe in the sun and taken for a quick dip in the ocean.

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.

This full length contains all of Bleeding Through’s hardcore malice only now it’s encased with a perfected, extremity-heavy formula.