According to former Songs: Ohia songwriter Jason Molina, his first studio recording as Magnolia Electric Co. is a quasi-concept album loosely based on Hank Williams's 1950s hymn "I Saw the Light." But listening to What Comes after the Blues, the follow-up to this winter's live Trials and Errors, it's easy to imagine the Chicago musician listens to a lot less Williams than he does Neil Young. In fact, it's hard to believe he listens to anything but Young: joined by a Crazy Horse of his very own – including members of Okkervil River, John Wilkes Booze, and Jim and Jennie and the Pinetops – Molina has crafted a collection of country-rock dirges that could easily be mistaken for leftovers from Young's Harvest Moon sessions.

Except that Young would never have discarded a song as beautifully sad as Blues's opener, "The Dark Don't Hide It," in which Molina warbles about the toll pain inevitably takes on the human heart. From there, things only get starker: throughout the album he sounds increasingly sick with melancholy as he details his regret, heartbreak, and tendency to hit the road when the going gets tough. Such relentlessly depressing subject matter won't come as a surprise to fans of the equally bleak Songs: Ohia, but it does get repetitive. Because while Molina has long proved he can turn pain into consistently good art, by the time he sings, "I will take to my grave no heart at all," halfway into Blues, it's questionable whether he's ever even tried to see the light. Magnolia Electric Co. play Sat/30, Bottom of the Hill, S.F. (415) 621-4455. (Jimmy Draper)

British Sea Power
Open Season (Rough Trade)

New Order
Waiting for the Sirens' Call (Warner Bros.)

Shhh, Britannia. These days England sounds mighty . samey, making all-elbows ragamuffins on a jag like Bloc Party stick out like pogoing punters in a sea of sleepy, sleeper shut-ins. If not shoegazers. At least they're not all saddled with sound-alike monikers like Elephone, Elefant, Earlimart. Power, Order -- those are completely different words, skipperidoo.

On Open Season, the most baldly self-conscious of the lot, British Sea Power, power along on the gladly sad melodies and sailing reverb guitar of the Cure ("Be Gone") and the windy, romantic sweep and wistful vocal delivery of Echo and the Bunnymen ("It Ended on an Oily Stage"). Perhaps it comes down to vocalist Yan's breathy blows on the Brighton band's second full-length. But despite the occasional ebullient, up-tempo moments – dig those bird chirps! – radio-perfect pop ("Please Stand Up"), and lovely ballads wearing paisley on their sleeves ("Like a Honeycomb"), BSP like to dampen down the joy with nods to wet, fog, cold, and various Britpop forebears – never letting the potentially powerful pop get too outta hand. Hey, don't blame me – I didn't tell them to write an anthem titled "To Get to Sleep."

Before and after the rest are New Order, the alpha and omega of bracingly minimalist, danceable Britpop. Those who haven't fallen for the sweet straitjacket, the stingy beats and stinging melodies, of "Bizarre Love Triangle," "Blue Monday," etc. must check their heads at the arena door. The thrills on the band's latest, Waiting for the Sirens' Call, are less immediate – chalk it up to the bevy of producers, including everyone from the Smiths' Stephen Street to the Stone Roses' John Leckie to your sweet Aunt Sally. But kidding aside, the guitar solo on, say, "Hey Now What You Doing" does make you sit up and ask, hey, now, New Order, what kind of clichéd, wood-chipper axe-playing is that? Better to stick to the archetypal N.O. songcraft of "Krafty." Order, please. New Order play Fri/29, Henry J. Kaiser Arena, Oakl. (510) 238-7765. British Sea Power play Sat/30, Independent, S.F. (415) 771-1421. (Kimberly Chun)

Sole
Live from Rome (Anticon)

While most "true" hip-hoppers will overlook Sole's Live from Rome, it's worth hearing. True, there's something annoying about this guy – it's probably the "I'm an outcast who loves hip-hop even if hip-hop doesn't love me" vibe in so many of his songs. It gets old, and change is welcome. At the same time, that vibe probably helps him sell tons of records to high-schoolers and college activists.

But that's enough bitching about Sole's "Henry Rollins without the muscle" whiny style. On to the good stuff: Sole is an excellent writer. He comes up with great rhymes and lots of imagery, and he delivers his ideas with a variety of flows and cadences. His voice is solid, and Sole's buddy Odd Nosdam is one of the illest producers out now. He's mastered the big beat made famous by Run-D.M.C. and LL Cool J two decades ago and manages to make it sound fresh while thumping beneath an assortment of loops. His sounds range from lovely guitar progressions to static-ridden three-note progressions. Most of the beats on this record are decidedly dark, and all but one are legit: the song "Imsotired" tries too hard to be heavy. It should give up or just buy a fat suit.

Several numbers clock in at less than two minutes: "Locust Farm" has a solid guitar loop backed by atmospheric drums and tones. Short songs are great – they prove that all songs don't have to be three minutes and forty-five seconds. The song "On Martyrdom" features a full-on electro beat. It sounds like a goddamned German disco, but toward the end of the track, the drums slow way, way down, just like slow parts in death metal songs, and because of that break, the song is fantastic: "When the going gets tough mothers will be boxing in the street / Kids will be cheering them on / The beggars will come / The models will fall / But no one will hold your hand when you walk the plank." A lot of rhymes on this album are impenetrable. It may be that they aren't meant to be deciphered and that they simply sound great and paint a compelling picture, and that's enough. The album's highlight: Sole quotes Chuck D saying, "Yo, bring that beat back – y'all wanna hear that beat right?" It's said with absolutely no passion or power – basically as opposite from the way Chuck D delivered it as possible. It's cute, weird, and funny. Sole performs with a band Wed/27, Bottom of the Hill, S.F. (415) 621-4455. (Nate Denver)

Strapping Young Lad
Alien (Century Media)

Canada's Strapping Young Lad are possibly the only extreme metal band in which the vocalist is actually the focal point of the music. Can you name another? I can't. Then again, not many folks can sing (or scream) like Devin Townsend, the charismatic, not-so-young lad who fronts this veteran band, which also includes ex-members of Death and Fear Factory. Townsend is a wall-to-wall virtuoso, kind of like Mike Patton minus the sarcasm and the annoying Tasmanian Devil tics and plus a heavy dose of Ronnie James Dio-Rob Halford histrionics. He's unapologetically over the top, which is absolutely necessary in order to project over his bandmates' frantic cybermetal onslaught.

SYL's sound is an odd mix of studio gloss and genuine post-death metal heaviness. They sound like pop next to the ultraheavy grindcore of Pig Destroyer or Nasum, but they're still a couple of notches heavier than your typical overproduced band on a "major indie" like Century Media or Nuclear Blast. Nearly everything on Alien is coated with a layer of semicheesy, vaguely sci-fi keyboards, and drumming hero Gene Hoglan's bionic percussion work is given a buffed, almost electronic-sounding sheen. Some purists no doubt scoff at this relatively polished product, but SYL make up for the occasional excess with a level of songwriting mastery and honest-to-goodness musicianship you're just not going to find in many other metal bands these days. Strapping Young Lad play May 10, Pound-S.F., S.F. (415) 826-5009. (Will York)

Mercury Rev
The Secret Migration (V2)

For a band that claim never to have intended to be a band, Mercury Rev seem to have fallen into the trap of expectations that most real bands face. I'd like to think of their sixth album in 14 tumultuous years, The Secret Migration, as an attempt to keep things interesting and not necessarily as an attempt to please fans of previous records who expect psychedelic explosions. It's not a remake of Deserter's Songs (V2) ; it is a beautiful, more straightforward album.

The band still have the ability to deliver the Polyphonic Spree's musical promise via the orchestration of the Flaming Lips, but they surpass both by giving you more of themselves. Whereas Wayne Coyne and Tim DeLaughter sing like helium-huffing acid reverends delivering scripture, Jonathan Donahue makes the music personal, with relatable lyrics and an I-am-you tone, albeit in a Neil Young-ish fashion. In "Across Yer Ocean" for example, Donahue sings, "And where we go from here is anybody's guess / These thoughts I've got inside ain't easy to confess / My hand upon my heart, I draw a little breath / 'Cause I've fallen down," with a sincerity that makes up for the potentially embarrassing directness.

The classic M.R. sounds are also here, but the strings and piano aren't vaporously drifting across the record. Those instruments are tied down with a rocking bass and drums that demand emotional involvement. The injection of immediacy is best displayed on tracks like "Black Forest (Lorelei)," with its DJ Shadow piano introduction, and "Secret for a Song," with its Sunny Day Real Estate drive. The Secret Migration perhaps offers less of a payoff to attentive followers, but requiring less of a listener is not always the crime mutinous fans claim. The Secret Migration comes out May 17. Mercury Rev play Sun/1, Fillmore, S.F. (415) 346-6000. (Keith Axline)