Overwhelmed by sudden success, Nirvana promised to take a harsher, more abrasive route on their second major-label release. Enlisting Chicago-based noise maven Steve Albini (of Big Black fame), Kurt Cobain and company succeeded in producing a record that was violent, disillusioned, and deeply moving. Every song reads like a commentary on the cost of fame ("Serve the Servants") and the unhealthy relationship between performer and fan ("Milk It"). Of course, they might all simply be about Courtney Love. Gossip aside, there is no denying the sheer power of Cobain's song-writing, his singing, and the band's amazing, visceral power. Cobain even manages a John Lennon-like mantra at the end of the heart-wrenching "All Apologies". "All in all is all we are," he intones repeatedly, only for Cobain that's no consolation. -Percy Keegan.

In Tales Don't Tell Themselves, Funeral For A Friend have penned their catchiest, most mainstream-friendly album to date. The band's previous album, 2005's Hours, saw Bridgend's emo-tinged rockers soften their sound slightly, hardcore breakdowns and shrieked metal vocals receding and a more tuneful, melodic edge coming to the fore. On Tales. , Funeral walk further down this road. There's little trace of the angry hardcore tykes who wrote songs like "The Art Of American Football", but songs like "Into Oblivion (Reunion)" and the Smashing Pumpkins-tinged "Open Water" are presented with the sort of anthemic widescreen that suggest My Chemical Romance should watch their back. Elsewhere, though, there's signs of a growing songwriting maturity that might one day spring F4AF out of the punk ghetto for good: Matt Davies' lyrics reach far beyond emo's typical boy-meets-girl concerns, individual tracks linked by a narrative about a shipwrecked fisherman desperate to be reunited with his family, while the violin peaks and mighty drum rolls of "Raise The Sail" suggest Funeral For A Friend are eager to extend their musical palette. An impressive evolution. -Louis Pattison.

The first instalment of a projected two-album set, Mezmerize sees System Of A Down, an American band of mostly Armenian heritage, further distilling their unique formula of thrash metal, socio-political rage, and Eastern European vocal melody into ever-more fiendishly complicated and white-knuckle exhilarating forms. Moreso even than 2001's Toxicity, this is a album of intense complexity: crammed with whiplash-inducing tempo-changes and a schizophrenic mood that sees sing-a-long, poppy choruses segued effortlessly into breakneck speed-metal, it's as bewildering on first listen as it is addictive after three. Like Rage Against The Machine, SOAD are a fiercely moral band, but they never let their message stagnate through po-faced delivery: see, for instance, "Cigaro"-ostensibly a song about abuse of power, but one which opens with frontman Serj Tankian yelping "My cock is much bigger than yours!" Musically, too, they're not without an occasional lightness of touch: see the excellent "Radio/Video", riding along on a bouncy ska rhythm. But it's perhaps inevitable that Mezmerize should climax on a note of epic disgust, in the shape of "Old School Hollywood" and "Lost in Hollywood" - two songs that rage against the glossy materialism of their Los Angeles hometown, taking down a regiment of Z-list celebrities and "maggots smoking fags on Santa Monica boulevard" in a firestorm of righteous fury. -Louis Pattison.

Tom Waits's hipster persona began to evaporate at the beginning of the 1980s, but not before he released the transitional- but eminently worthwhile-Heartattack and Vine, which contained "On the Nickel", a Dickensian tale of street life, and "Jersey Girl," a song Bruce Springsteen gave a far wider airing to on his Live 1975-1985 box set. You can hear hints of Waits's style growing more trenchant on songs like "Downtown" and the stark, bluesy title track, which contains the immortal line "Don't you know there ain't no devil / That's just God when he's drunk. " Indeed. -Daniel Durchholz.

When they exploded out of the gates on their 2004 debut, Contraband, Velvet Revolver were met with as much diffidence as appreciation. After all, supergroups have tended to detonate as often as succeed, and with vocalist Scott Weiland, bassist Duff McKagan, and guitarist Slash all vying to keep the lit match away from the fuse, the odds against this band ever seeing album #2 were even money at best. Surprise! Not only have Velvet Revolver survived three years with unreckless abandon, this album blows the doors off its predecessor. Save a pair of disinfected ballads ("The Last Fight," "Gravedancer"), Libertad is all about hand-grenade chords, drag-racing riffs, and circus-tent choruses. The ageless McKagan and Slash continually gun for the disorderliness of their former band (most notably on the punkish opener "Let It Roll" and its lewd brother "Spay"), while Weiland sounds-knock on wood-positively clean and like a voice of boisterous renewal on tracks like "Mary Mary," "She Builds Quick Machines," and the melt-in-your-mouth cover of ELO's "Can't Get It out of My Head. " Obviously egos have been checked at the studio door, as Velvet Revolver have already exceeded their anticipated existence. And now that existence goes back on the clock, trying to outshine a second album that's head-and-shoulders better than the first. -Scott Holter.

Sometimes overlooked by public and critics alike (though never American radio), this best-of confirms Thin Lizzy as one of rock's greats. Their string of hits, including the wonderful "Dancing in the Moonlight", "The Boys Are Back in Town" and "Jailbreak" remain classic music. The band deserve a place in the pantheon of Irish greats alongside U2, Van Morrison and the Cranberries. Thin Lizzy were very firmly a good-time group, perhaps strange for a bunch that emerged from both sides of Ireland in a troubled time. But with Phil Lynott's excellent vocals over heavy guitar riffs they never failed to give value for money. This is raucous hell-raising music that straddles, in leather star-spangled pants, 70s monster rock and 80s punk. The live versions are a testament to the band's fantastic live power. On stage they were in their element, spitting, fighting, shouting and singing. There's also a tinge of sadness under Thin Lizzy's feelgood, ready-for-a-rumble stomp. This was confirmed when Lynott died from a drugs overdose two years after the band folded. [+]

Formed in Germany in 1994, this industrial rock six-piece gained notoriety when they were found to be fave raves of the Columbine High School killers. Mutter is the studio follow-up to 1998s platinum-selling Sehnsucht, and a very menacing beast it is too. Vocalist Till Lindermann delivers growling German lyrics over a melange of explosive guitar, pared-down bass and juddering drums. But these 11 tracks are not all nu-metal stomp rock, as every so often the aural assault is broken by quivering flights of fragile pop melody. Songs like Spieluhr and Mutter are reminiscent of early 1980s synth-pop merchants such as OMD, proving that under the Teutonic Nine Inch Nails exterior lies a streak of lofty romance. -Lucy O'Brien.

Those frustrated by metal's alleged role in the dumbing-down of popular music should be forced to listen to Toxicity, the superb second album by System of a Down. Raising the bar for an entire generation of metalheads, Toxicity is an album as clever as it is loud. Weaving together influences as diverse as the dark thrash of Slayer, the ranting political frustration of the Dead Kennedys, the melodic alternative metal of Faith No More and the Eastern European music of their heritage (the four band members all have Armenian roots), this is an album unlike any other-with the possible exception of their own debut. Erratic time changes and staccato riffs are complemented by vocalist Serj Tankian's outstanding voice, which can switch from a high-pitched nasal warble to the darkest of metal growls instantly. Even the songs themselves set System of a Down apart from their nu-metal peers, running the gamut from socio-political themes ("Prison", "Deer Dance") to social observations ("Needles") to cocaine-addled groupies ("Psycho"). And, lest all this seriousness get a bit much, SOAD demonstrate their wittier side on "Bounce", while the three-and-a-half-minute epic "Chop Suey!" is the cleverest metal single heard since Faith No More decided to call it quits. Infact, like FNM's rightly regarded classic Angel Dust, Toxicity marks a major step forward not just for a band, but for the entire genre of heavy-metal music. -Robert Burrow.

All the voices in Tom Waits' head come out on this album: the growler (of course), the crooner, the preacher, the screecher, and the Vegas cheese ball. The instrumentation is equally eclectic. (Yep, that's Waits himself playing the "rooster" on the album's best song, "I'll Be Gone". ) More memorable moments: "Innocent When You Dream" (both times), the vocal howling at the end of "Blow Wind Blow", and the lovely coughing fit after "I'll Take New York. " Frank's Wild Years is the musical remains of a theatrical collaboration between Waits and Kathleen Brennan, originally staged in 1986. It contains nuggets of important practical advice, sure-"never drive a car when you're dead" (from "Telephone Call from Istanbul")-but mostly these songs are fantasy freaks. Frank's is big-time dreamer. It's a dreamy album. Sweet dreams. -Dan Leone.

Dutch rockers Within Temptation have surpassed themselves with The Heart of Everything. Never a band known for understatement, this is by far their biggest and best album yet, 11 epic tracks that are impressively grandiose and proudly hyperbolic. Where other bands would be content with a string section, Within Temptation incorporate an entire orchestra (plus a choir). In addition, they also sample the sounds of machine guns, explosions, car crashes and even Winston Churchill. Complemented by Sharon den Adel's impressive vocal range, it all works spectacularly, evoking imagery of men on horseback wielding axes. Each song is a mini-saga, from "The Howling" with its suggestions of Middle Earth battlefields to the anti-war "Our Solemn Hour", which features a Latin chorus, "Sanctus espiritus," taken from Roman Catholic mass. Only the radio-friendly and relatively understated ballads "All I Need" and "Forgiven" sound out of place, (though the orchestra still features on the former). Fortunately, everything else on The Heart of Everything sounds like barbarian soundtrack music. Which is to say that this is a proper heavy metal music. -Ted Kord.

"Fell on Black Days", indeed. Seattle sludge slingers Soundgarden made a living out of cathartic, woe-is-me wailing (we're talking the banshee vocals of Chris Cornell and the crypt-creaking guitar of Kim Thayil), but this wallowing in grim depression ironically proved to be the band's most uplifting career effort. When the reclusive Cornell ventures out of his shy-guy shell, it's typically via a primal scream of cathartic emotion-he might camp it up with a sophomoric "Spoon Man", but most of this vicious disc leaps straight for your jugular. Generations in the post-millennial future will one day refer to this record to discover exactly how 1990s rock & roll was done. -Tom Lanham.

The orchestral-pop hit "Iris" (from the soundtrack to City of Angels) proved the Goo Goo Dolls were no one-hit wonder with 1995's "Name". One listen to "Slide", the crafty, yearning second track off their sixth release, suggests the streak continues for Buffalo's finest. Not surprisingly, aspects that make the aforementioned songs memorable-warm, acoustic stylings; strings; heartrending hooks-also make Dizzy come alive elsewhere. Ultimately, the effort documents the band's continued migration from indie rock toward the mainstream. Thus, while "Slide" and the reprise of the wondrous "Iris" might shine for weeks (or even years) of repeated listens, attempts to keep alive the group's power-trio past often have a been-there/done-that feel. -Neal Weiss.

With their daft facial hair and questionable fashion sense, tank-top sporting Brooklyn supernerds We Are Scientists resemble those eccentric mathematics lecturers one use to see on Open University in the early 1970s. Do not be deceived by this veil of foolishness for With Love and Squalor is a splendidly dexterous debut, a lubricated salvo of trim pop-punk cramming 13 songs into an honorably waffle-free 36 minutes. Obvious touchstones include Franz Ferdinand (on fun setting) and the wit, jerk and pop inclination of XTC circa Drums And Wires and Black Sea. Exploding into action with the adrenalin swoop of "Nobody Move, Nobody Get Hurt" and "This Scene Is Dead" and taking in such other fine moments as the reggaefied "Can't Lose", the Terrorvision-meets-Buzzcocks "Callbacks" and nods to the mope-rock of The Cure on the philosophical experience-is-the-best-teacher procrastination of "Textbook". With Love And Squalor places "We Are Scientists" in line for this years Nobel Prize for punk-pop novelty. -Kevin Maidment.

Prior to the release of The State, grungey Nickelback won a Juno Award-the Canadian equivalent of a BRIT Award-for Best New Band. Named after an expression often used by bassist Mike Kroeger when serving coffees for $1. 95 each in Starbucks, Nickelback have toured alongside Creed and owe a similar debt to the anthemic rock and articulate soulfulness of Pearl Jam. The State is consciously dramatic, with sweet strums constantly overwhelmed by crashing waves of distorted guitar. Singer Chad Kroeger (Mike's brother) meaningfully croons and wails his tales of life in a small town, with its complex relationships, claustrophobic underground culture and uncomfortable struggle between easy comfort (staying) and invigorating adventure (leaving). Yet Nickelback are at their best when escaping the Pearl Jam influence, as with the heavy, ponderous Billy Squier-style riffing of "Deep", the dirty 70s grind of "Not Leavin' Yet" and the slightly more experimental "Worthy To Say", where a near-Oriental ambient guitar is suddenly hammered by a burst of big rock and Chad Kroeger delivers a bluesy rap recalling prime-time Paul Rodgers. Nickelback are good, but still growing. Once they achieve their own clearly identifiable sound, they may well be great. -Dominic Wills.

In an age where phrases like "selling out" and "dumbing down" are bandied so freely, it takes a brave band to make a wilfully commercial record. On Liberation Transmission, however, Lostprophets tackle the inevitable cries head on. Those '80s influences that have always simmered under the surface - Duran Duran, The Clash, Depeche Mode - sound more explicit than ever, infused into a sumptuous, glossy rock dynamic seemingly tailor-made for the world's stadiums. Luckily, the songs are good enough to justify their platinum-plated production: triumphant outsider anthem 'Rooftops (A Liberation Broadcast)' will inevitably become a lighters-out encore favourite, while 'Everyday Combat' and 'New Transmission' confirm the 'Prophets haven't lost their hard edge, rumbling with shrieked battle cries and jagged, addictive guitar riffs. Perhaps the record's most impressive achievement is the massive vocal presence, frontman Ian Watkins merely the conductor to impressive layered harmonies or war-chant choruses - see the mighty 'Can't Catch Tomorrow (Good Shoes Won't Save You This Time)', an entertaining assault on fashion-victim mentality that might be the catchiest track here. Says a lot about Liberation Transmission, though, that it's up against some strong competition, on what's undoubtedly the band's strongest album to date. -Louis Pattison.