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Calling all crazy ex-girlfriends: If you’re gonna keep up with Florence Welch, you might need stronger meds.

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Two years ago, this Swedish trio scored an international smash with "Young Folks," an indie-pop sleeper so relentlessly upbeat that everyone from Kanye West to Budweiser whistled its refrain. But now, as fans await another breezy hit, PB&J take a dark turn, as if consumed by success-story guilt.

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Call it Songs in the Key of Death. Written from a corpse's perspective, these Portland, Oregon punks' fourth album celebrates the joys of being young and alive: drinking, snogging, and writing three-chord odes to drinking and snogging.

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With the economy tanking, homes being lost, and folks switching to survival mode, America may need Neko Case's back-to-nature fantasias more than ever. On 2006's gothic classic Fox Confessor Brings the Flood, she belted out soaring country rock, Southern gospel, and power-pop hymns about lions, sparrows, and two-legged creatures living outside civilization.

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The bummer about boy geniuses is that they feel ancient so soon. One day Conor Oberst is a teenage Dylan, scribbling metaphors while his friends' band-camp orchestras weave daisy chains around him, the next he's a 27-year-old J. Alfred Prufrock, singing, "I got old in an instant / Now I'm all on my own."

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If there is comfort in being sad, Elliott Smith knew it once. The late singer/songwriter's early four-track recordings were about the good kind of loneliness: wandering through the city just before morning, waiting for a train to come or a drug to kick in, hoping that something might happen.