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Like a West Coast beach-bum version of the Strokes, this Orange County foursome (with pro surfer Alex Knost on lead vocals) sing amiably about wearing one's hair in one's eyes and sitting in traffic on the 405 over poppy, sloppy garage-punk grooves that sound like they were written simply to score a fistful of drink tickets at Costa Mesa's Detroit Bar.

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This is the third time these brash Los Angeles bombers have released an album titled The Bronx, but don't think they're scraping the bottom of their metallic punk recycling bin: Here they dial down the Black Flag–derived chaos of The Bronx (I) and (II), unleashing sharper melodies and boogie rhythms that Axl Rose might've admired before getting cornrows.

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Anyone who's followed Ryan Adams' career during the decade since he left Whiskeytown might've wondered if last year's Easy Tiger was a fluke -- an all- too-rare instance of Adams wrangling his creative wanderlust long enough to craft a consistently compelling full-length.

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A trio of biz-savvy power-pop nerds from L.A., the 88 built a following the 21st-century way -- by placing songs in commercials for Target and Sears and TV shows like How I Met Your Mother.

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Though he's unlikely to encounter much trouble selling these romantic conceits to his female-heavy fan base, some of the scenarios on John Legend's third studio album could be fresher: In "Good Morning," for example, he attempts to convince his lady to skip work and spend all day snuggling.

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News flash: Coldplay aren’t the only dreamy British pop-rock band with an experimental streak. On album three, Keane trick out their pretty piano melodies with tasty synths ("The Lovers Are Losing"), booming rap beats ("Spiralling"), and fuzzy new-wave guitars ("You Haven’t Told Me Anything").