By Paul V.

Singled Out

Pink -- Stupid Girls -- Arista

Pink rocks on so many levels. She's a freethinker, she's fierce, she's butch, and the girl can sing. And now she bounces back with a genius, reggae-tinged pop rock diss for vacuous hack bimbos like Paris Hilton and Jessica Simpson. Color me impressed!

Morrissey -- Ringleader Of The Tormentors -- Sanctuary

Now that we've learned that not even $5-million can coax The Smiths out of retirement, is there any consolation? The answer -- packed into 12 glorious new tracks by the Moz -- is a resounding yes! And it might have something to do with the fact that his longtime "self-imposed celibacy" is over. Morrissey's getting some now, and you can hear it all over the place. One doesn't write a confessional song like "To Me You are a Work of Art" for just any old friend. Also worth noting is legendary producer Tony Visconti, who really gives this album a fantastic sheen, engulfing the tunes with a thicker experimental sound; it's a sweeping and cinematic listen. Morrissey's obsession with those stuck in dysfunctional family life starts on "The Youngest Was The Most Loved" and resurfaces during "The Father Who Must Be Killed" (very British, and makes good use of an Italian children's choir). The sound of falling rain kicks off over seven minutes of "Life Is a Pigsty," whose title completely belies its beautiful and haunting melody. The smash single is clearly the rollicking "I Just Want To See The Boy Happy." Morrissey was even able to enlist another legend, Ennio Morricone, on the thrilling "Dear God, Help Me Please" and the album's quiet, but potent sendoff, "At Last I Am Born." All told, Morrissey's signature triumphant agony, harsh faultfinding, pitiless wit, and tormented crooning have never sounded better. Viva La Moz!

Mellowdrone -- Box -- Columbia

Mellowdrone is the brainchild of a guy named Jonathan Bates, an L.A.-based prodigy who first picked up the guitar at age 16. Somewhere along the way he learned his way around synthesizers, too, and on his band's first proper album release, he lets his talents unfold into a variety of polished sonics and expansive moods. He also possesses one of the most underrated gifts a musician can have: a bratty sense of humor that bubbles up whenever the music threatens to become laboriously dark or too experimental. Jumping freely between trippy ambient grooves, strummed guitars, and edgy energetic dance rock, Box is a multi-faceted listen. Lead single "Oh My" is one of 2006's finest sounds-like-Britpop sing-alongs, where Bates' swooping falsetto grabs you instantly (and check out that wild guitar solo he snuck in there). On the other end of the spectrum, the whispered power/subtle swoon of "Fashionably Uninvited" -- this disc's crowning achievement, inspired by Twin Peaks composer Angelo Badalamenti -- or "F**k It Man," both waft around your ears long after the songs end. With sly, smoky lyrics set to lurching sex groove drum-loops, points of reference might lead one to The Eels meets Beck meets Muse, with a dash of Franz Ferdinand -- and even Jeff Buckley, in terms of Bates' tender voice. To say this record is dense and brooding is only partly correct, because glints of sunshine pop smarts inhabit this too, marking this buzz worthy band's arrival.

Sparks -- Hello Young Lovers -- In The Red

With a 35-year-long career and a place on rock cognoscenti "influenced-by" lists (seriously, listen to Queen, Franz Ferdinand, Kaiser Chiefs, Scissor Sisters, The Darkness, Morrissey, and Dresden Dolls to hear what we mean) brothers Ron and Russell Mael still think they're Valley teenagers obsessed with existential mischief-making -- all the while confounding listeners with a sound that is, seriously, pretty unclassifiable. Yet, groovy tracks like lead single "Perfume" (which drops a recitation of brand name scents, a la Black-Eyed Peas' "My Humps" did, but stupid on purpose) can only be described as catchy new wave spaghetti-western opera. Meanwhile, disc opener "Dick Around" is a synthesized orchestral opus that gives way to a piano-driven pop bridge and a soaring, heavy metal finale. And how to describe "(Baby Baby) Can I Invade Your Country" -- which recites the actual lyrics to the "Star-Spangled Banner," bounced over a staccato guitar line and a wash of harmonies. Somehow this would sound right at home in a "South Park" episode. On "Waterproof" you can't beat a cheeky lyric like "I see you crying, but I'm not buying / Your Meryl Streep mimicry / It's misdirected, your voice inflected / For maximum sympathy." Sparks present a grandiose adventure and a briskly camp farrago that avoids rock clichés at every turn, while somehow managing to embrace every one of them. They protest predictability, obliterate the ordinary, and demand extra brain cells to "get them." And bless 'em for it!

Catch Paul V. spinning tunes in Silver Lake: Dragstrip 66 (second Sat. each month at The Echo), Spit (third Sat. each month at Faultline), and Smash! Fridays at MJ's. Tune in for his "Smash Mix" on Indie 103.1 FM Fridays at 5:30 p.m. For information, e-mail www.dragstrip66.com.