Apocalypse is a song cycle that places the usually extremely inward-looking Callahan in the unlikely role of observer and interpreter of various American myths; myths both externally held and culturally self-referential, that inform the interior world of the protagonist.

Mondo Amore may work best as a companion piece to Neptune City--the fast 'n' furious yang to that album's soft, pleasant yin--but it's got more than enough raw emotion to hold its own weight.

Keys to the Kingdom may have been recorded in response to death and birth but it is, more than anything else, a celebration of all that Jim Dickinson held dear in life and music, which are, after all, the same thing.

Capo is scattered and scrappy, which for Jones is a comfortable landscape where oddball, sprawling, day-in-the-life numbers can sit next to stay-on-the-grind tracks, and Black Eyed Peas-parodies with no apologies required.

Ultimately, it feels as much like an exercise in self-justification as it does in personal revelation.

Young's unconventional lyrical inclinations mesh nicely with the warm, organic, mostly acoustic feel of the arrangements, creating a craftily produced but endearingly off-kilter sound with echoes of bands like the Fruit Bats and Lost in the Trees.

Blood Pressures is a darker, slower ride than Midnight Boom, but it shows the Kills can make subtle innovations as well as bold ones, and make them fit their signature sound to boot.

With a varied group of artists ranging from established names (Moby, the Crystal Method, Paul Oakenfold) to up-and-comers (Com Truise, Pretty Lights), the collection offers eclectic tangents on the retro-futuristic musical world Daft Punk created.

Raven in the Grave may not be what you expected going in, but by the time it's through the powerful emotions transmitted through the words, voices, and sound will win you over completely.

Songs like the dreamily punchy pop of "A Walk" and "Different Heart" and the cascading, descending swirl and sonic moan of "Keep Still" don't reinvent wheels but do serve as good general exercises in the field, lovely, tender, and loud.

It's all quietly dazzling, a sinuous fusion of jazz, dub, and techno that pulls from German, African, Jamaican, and Latin forms without the slightest hint of stuffiness.

Since Dan Deacon is a personal friend of Boeldt's, it's no surprise that club music would rub off, but even when the wheels start spinning and electro funk is cross-referenced, the all-too-cute, retro '80s aesthetic is ever present.

A tribute album starring the man of honor himself, who also curated the whole affair, See My Friends is a bit of a curious creature.

Heidecker & Wood have the pop culture fluency and musical skills to pull off this homage in gloriously cheesy detail. Starting from Nowhere may be odd, but it's also very enjoyable, especially for anyone who has a soft spot for soft rock.

If you're looking for some great lo fi fun, WWII delivers, but anyone who wants to hear some top-shelf pop-centric rock & roll really owes it to themselves to give this a listen.

A Dream a While Back is an essential additional document in Higgins' legacy and adds to, not diminishes, Red Hash's legacy.

The Sleepwalking Society is a stunner; a jazz-pop record with brilliant R&B and folk undertones woven throughout.

At times, the extra grit quotient in Chesnutt's songs seems in turn to inspire a tougher approach on the part of the Junkies, but more often, the late songwriter's quirky, agreeably crooked structures are given a fulsome, flowing quality that would probably never even have occurred to Chesnutt as a possibility.

It's true that Tre3s still finds Chikita Violenta seeking a sound completely their own, but they're closer than ever, due in large part to the improved quality of the songwriting and arrangements.

It's a stronger and more satisfying piece of work than most of his other post-millennial albums, and it's the closest thing he managed to a truly effective rock & roll collaboration; it's an impressive finale to a genuinely remarkable career.

All in all, Stay Home is a step up from the Beets' debut, though it's hard not to imagine they're going to have to face the choice of either learning to play or hitting the creative wall some time in the future.

Last of the Country Gentlemen is a demanding listen; its wandering pace, startling, emotionally jarring terrain of uncalculated honesty, and obsession can be uncomfortable. That said, it is a recording of surprising originality and great beauty.

Ultimately, by pushing the dance beats and the slabs of synth to the foreground, the Sounds have increased their pop appeal and delivered an album that pleases your ears while also demanding that you leave your blood on the dancefloor.

They may not have as much depth as their influences, but at their best, their shiny surfaces are a lot of fun.

Like the trio's eerie, 2010, eponymous debut, 2011's Nightingale feels like a relic that's been spruced up, remixed, and then planted back in the earth for some future generation to stumble upon, crack open, and germinate a scene with.

They deliver thrilling song after thrilling song that'll have you hyping them to all your rock & roll friends as soon the album stops spinning.

Even if there's a fair amount of affected British accents and overdriven guitars, it's a far cry from the mall-punk rebellion of Underclass Hero, the melodramatic bombast flavored with metallic flecks and solipsistic acoustic pity, all giving Screaming Bloody Murder a grander, richer palette than any other Sum 41 record.

Thanks to the hooky and familiar songs, the exciting performances, and the perfectly executed aesthetic, Too Young to Be in Love is simply and truly a great rock & roll record.