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As the only band who might show up at this summer's Warped Tour with a glockenspiel, this Long Island-based troupe is obviously more sophisticated than your average emo act. But in the past, they've struggled to find a balance between co-songwriter John Nolan's dramatic piano pop and his sister Michelle's sultry balladeering.

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Sure, "Vocal A meets Music B" DJ blends are tossed-off gimmicks most of the time, but in those rare moments when the gimmick clicks, the party immediately kicks into another gear.

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After nearly a decade of summoning Buzzcocks and Daniel Johnston, this drums-and-guitar duo has finally mastered the art of insulting our intelligence with sweetness and charm (esteemed critic Richard Meltzer decries all rock bands in the liner notes, naming the Bugs the "lone exception").

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On James Jackson Toth's (allegedly) final album under the Wooden Wand moniker, the New York singer/songwriter mewls that he's been a "busy honeybee in a bucket of tar" (and considering that he's recorded 20-plus records with the freak-folk collective the Vanishing Voice already this century, that's a lot of goop).

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On their second album in less than two years, this melodic Tennessee foursome deliver everything that a group of new-school mall punks angling for the big time should -- massive guitar riffs, sweetly infectious choruses, and soaring power ballads that are sure to get some play at this year's winter formal.

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In the tradition of any good country troubadour, Rocky Votolato knows his muse lies at the bottom of a highball glass. His fifth and most graceful album nurtures the hushed, wispy harmonies of 2006's Makers (yep, named after the whiskey) in somber tales of nights spent drinking alone, missing his family, and staving off the weariness that descends long before last call.