Alternative Pop Rock, Britpop, British

Debut albums rarely arrive with as much expectation as Embrace's The Good Will Out – in Britain, at least. Arriving after the massive success of Oasis and the Verve, The Good Will Out was perceived as the heir apparent to the lad-rock throne. One listen to The Good Will Out illustrates why – the group ingeniously combines the anthemic hooks and monolithic roar of Oasis with the sweeping aural majesty of the Verve. That alone makes the album a bracing listen, but The Good Will Out doesn't quite have enough substance to compete in the big leagues. Danny McNamara simply doesn't have the charisma of Liam Gallagher or Richard Ashcroft, and his songs aren't as immediate or memorable as Noel Gallagher's or Ashcroft's. That's not to say they're bad songs – on the contrary, they're quite good, and they're performed passionately. It's just that in comparison to their peers – who really are their influences, as well – they lack that certain magic. Nevertheless, The Good Will Out illustrates enough promise and panache to make it a first-rate debut.

This compilation of 39 tracks, rather arrogantly titled The Album, offers a good mix of current guitar-based pop, rock and indie with the bonus of Fatboy Slim's housey "Star 69" and Roni Size's "Dirty Beats" tacked on the end. This is the sort of album you could expect to hear down the student union bar with a range of songs to cover all bases for even the most fussy of compilation critics. CD2 holds the indie-rock lighter in the air with Coldplay's "Trouble" and David Gray's "Late Night Radio" sandwiched between tracks by likely lads Supergrass ("Movin'") and Blur ("Coffee & TV"). Less obvious inclusions are alt.country masters Grandaddy ("The Crystal Lake") and gentle folkies the Kings of Convenience ("Toxic Girl"). CD1 is the less easy-listening of the two with some rock guitar riffing from the Manics ("You Stole The Sun…"), JJ72 ("Oxygen") and perfectly hip Placebo's "Taste In Men". If you're not into dance and the latest compilation from clubland isn't your cup of tea, then this could well be The Album before a good night out.

Following abortive collaborations with David McAlmont and Richard Ashcroft, ex- Suede guitarist Bernard Butler finally heeded his wife's advice and took centre stage for his solo debut. Not surprisingly, wide-eyed positivism is the presiding sentiment here–so much so, that, at times, People Move On seems to be about little more than itself. Save for that melodically slight Top 10 hit "Stay" though, it's hard to raise much objection in the face of such sustained inspiration. Highlights? Well, "You Just Know" will be better known to football fans as the plaintively catchy riff used during the 1998-9 season on Match Of The Day. "Change Of Heart" crashes along some beautiful George Harrison-style playing. Best of all though are "Autograph" and "Woman I Know"–not least for the way their gothic grandeur exposes the limitations of Butler's old band.

Always aware of the import of even their slightest movement, Manic Street Preachers place a lot of weight on their album titles and 2014's Futurology is designed as a conscious counterpoint to 2013's Rewind the Film. That record wound up closing an era where the Manics looked back toward their own history as a way of moving forward, but Futurology definitively opens a new chapter for the Welsh trio, one where they're pushing into uncharted territory. Never mind that, by most standards this charge toward the future is also predicated on the past, with the group finding fuel within the robotic rhythms of Krautrock and the arty fallout of punk; within the context of the Manics, this is a bracing, necessary shift in direction. All the death disco, free-range electronics, Low homages, and Teutonic grooves, suit the situational politics of the Manics, perhaps even better than the AOR-inspired anthems that have been their stock in trade, but the words – crafted, as ever, by Nicky Wire, who remains obsessed with self-recriminations, injustice and rallying cries – aren't the focus here. Unique among Manics albums, Futurology is primarily about the music, with the surging synthesizers and jagged arrangements providing not an emotional blood-letting or call to arms, but rather an internal journey.