Electric Wizard are arguably the most revered band of the doom metal genre since Black Sabbath themselves, and on Time To Die, they remind us why.

The record is truly a fine piece of artistry that has the power to hypnotise the listener into questioning their inner demons.

It’s to [Kevin Martin's] credit, then, that Angels & Devils does such a stellar job of blending the old and the new, and has the stones to shove Martin’s sinuous new ideas to the forefront. It’s that courage and singularity of vision that makes The Bug stand triumphantly apart.

The result isn’t just Moore’s finest solo album: this is some of the most remarkable music he’s ever been involved in.

Sudan radiates confidence on Athena, uniting distinct musical elements as if they belonged together all along. It’s an album that sounds like nothing else.

Ultimately Need To Feel Your Love is an unashamedly retro flavoured affair, but it's one that’s worth tasting.

Despite its many strengths, the rest of the album can’t help but feel like a gradual comedown from such a monumental start, but the sincerity and warmth of Glenn-Copeland’s deceptively simple songs is never in doubt.

Be warned: a full appreciation of this album requires numerous listens - it offers little at first glance, but the moment you surrender yourself to this fate, all becomes clear.

Although more than half of the songs on Cellar Door also appear on Massey Hall, there are plenty of fresh-sounding goodies here for the casual listener, let alone the Young buff.

The distant foginess of nostalgia creeps in the background but doesn't overwhelm the record. A hopeful undertone allows that era to be reflected upon with acceptance and the old feelings to shine as clearly as they can through the mist of memory.

Throughout the album, the duo’s sound stretches and bends like pliable dough, somewhat unmoored from any solid foundations, subject to abrupt and unexpected – yet still cohesive – contortions with little advance warning.

It’s the contrast of sparkling melodic effervescence and Mould’s obsidian soul that drives the tracks on Patch The Sky. Here, Mould has turned up the contrast between anger and melody, and found some sense of enlightenment.

It’s so cohesive in its theme that it can become overwhelming.

Following Marissa Nadler from one album to the next is like scraping away at the forearm with a scratch awl, each outing going progressively deeper, and we’re finally at blood and bone.

Though it lacks in the experimentation of Atrocity Exhibition, it compensates with cohesion and undeniable quality. As a presentation of Brown as an exceptional rapper, it ticks all the right boxes.

Lament is testament to the power held in each new day, and the moments to be discovered within, delivered with crushing passion by a band worth standing behind.

Y Dydd Olaf is a marvellously magical mixture of elation, anger and sorrow and is very lovely indeed.

With strong songwriting and stronger melodies throughout, this album is likely a one-off (minor) disappointment, and PUP will equally likely bounce back from it.

They continue to forge gripping narratives and confrontive declarations, their verses ensconced, often straitjacketed, in industrial, hardcore, and metal sonics. In fact, there’s not much “mock” here, just well-crafted juggernaut mixes and volatile cum apoplectic vocals, with touches of pop sensibility thrown in for good measure.

Ultimately, however, the highs triumph over the occasional coasting, even if it's hard to entirely shake off the feeling that there's a killer 12 or 14 track record to top off Wilco's return to studio form on 2019's Ode to Joy lurking amongst this bumper crop of Jeff Tweedy’s songs and Wilco’s telepathic dynamics.

LoneLady has reimagined herself as the star of a glitter laden dancefloor, the lasers excitedly pinging from the mirror balls hanging from above. By doing this, she’s gone and made the finest pop record of 2015 so far.

With its focus on covering most of the canon and the scintillating pace that it moves at, though, Live in Paris won’t just satiate the fans--it could well provide a new access point to one of the great American rock bands for those yet to be converted.

Harry’s House is a good album because it doesn’t care if you think so. It's not trying to appease the male critics chained to the altar of classic rock, and it isn’t showering you in glitter and hauling you onto the dance floor (even though you are still cordially invited).

Not all of it works. .... But the ease the band have in each other’s presence is infectious. Balbi’s propulsive drumming drives the record but never overpoweringly so. Letting those atmospheric synths have their moment in the spotlight, or allowing Hoff’s agile basslines to bring their own mood.

Fucked Up’s personal narrative draws an uncanny parallel with that of Dose Your Dreams. In creating a tale of dreaming big and clinging on to hope they are living out their own script, refusing to be bound or compromise in the creation of their art. The importance of dreams cannot be understated.

Old provides expository context and an origin story of sorts for that voice.

Rather than let heartbreak render the band static and immobile, Superchunk has thankfully turned to their faithful creative outlet of music once again, and the memories and spirit of their lost friends will resolutely live on in the stirring songs they have written to honour them.

Trust is every bit as impressive as The Comet Is Coming's debut. Which is pretty high praise indeed.