It isn’t rare for legendary punk bands to turn out a boring album after more than a decade of playing. It’s hard to blame them — we all grow up.

Avail might blame them, though, because “Front Porch Stories” is one strong album.

Even though it has had years to create a niche sound to call its own, Avail’s real strength is the ability to bring together many musical ideas into one song. The base is hardcore—influenced punk, and on top of that pretty much anything rock — and in the case of “West Wye,” twangy country — is layered into the mix.

The most ear-catching song, “Done Reckoning,” is pop worthy of a Me First and the Gimmie Gimmies cover song. It’s not the “pop” people think of when Good Charlotte’s name comes up — it’s the timeless song writing that is punk’s greatest asset. All within a minute and 42 seconds.

Two songs later, ’80s hardcore juxtaposes with classic rock at breakneck speed changes in “Versus.” With a chorus of, “We burn out before we fade away/ Losing time and not saying anything/ Burn out, we isolate/ Rather stand alone than divided,” Avail’s piss-and-vinegar fuel is stronger than ever.

In “The Falls,” Avail captures another side of the band, this one a rocky ride from powerful, chugging rock to beautiful, noisy harmony. It’s a transition that obviously took a lot of work and a life’s worth of emotional experience.

The whole album is soaked in personality, emotion and hard work — hey, the band even slowed the production time for “Front Porch Stories” down to a whole month.

Nope, Avail’s not dying down yet. Like Barry says in “The Falls,” “Oh it just goes to show, to desert friends like these streets I would be crazy.”

— Jeff Mitchell

When SR-71 put out its debut album “Now You See Inside,” the first few thousand copies were pressed with liner notes half the size of normal, allowing the consumer to see the disc through the door of the jewel case. Now you see inside — get it?

This ploy only served as an annoyance. The notes slid around and often times got in the way of closing the case. It was just plain awkward.

The same can be said for the band’s sophomore album, “Tomorrow.” There aren’t any clever packaging ploys this time around. But the record is still annoying, contrived and bothersome.

On the first record, the group showed a sliver of potential. The standout track on that album, “Right Now,” was co-written by Butch Walker of The Marvelous 3, a band who knew how to do this kind of music right.

Sadly, nothing even close to the caliber of “Right Now” exists on “Tomorrow.”

Lead singer and songwriter Mitch Allan is obviously appealing to the lowest common denominator. For crying out loud, the man rhymes “stronger” with “longer” on the title track. When Allan’s lyrics on “Hello, Hello” are belted at break-neck pop-punk speed, something’s lost in the translation.

On “Tomorrow,” the band adopts more of the hard-rock stylings that rule the radio these days. The instrumental tracks do rock, but what for? All pretense of purpose seems lost on this album.

If it Blink-182 mixed with Linkin Park sounds appealing, then “Tomorrow” might be for you. Also, your mom called. She said to remind you Driver’s Ed starts next week and you have an appointment to tighten your braces on Friday.

— Jesse Stensby

How does Nirvana, one of the most influential bands in the history of rock music, put together a greatest hits album? The long answer is through painstaking song selection and an ear for what both mainstream and hardcore fans will appreciate.

The short answer is that it can’t be done.

With a total listening time of just under 50 minutes, it would be easier to bring Kurt Cobain back to life than it would be to encompass all of Nirvana’s influence on a single-disc greatest hits compilation. Surprisingly, the producers of this album attempted the former rather than the latter.

“You Know You’re Right,” recorded just months before Cobain’s suicide, is the only previously unreleased song on the album. Hearing Cobain’s trademark growl, paired once again with Krist Novoselic on bass and Dave Grohl on drums, transports the listener back to the heyday of grunge, rather than the other way around.

Anyone who remembers flannel and torn pants will drool over the other tracks chosen for this album. Nirvana’s first recorded song, “About A Girl,” makes an appearance, as does “Smells Like Teen Spirit.”

Even “Pennyroyal Tea,” a song that Cobain admitted was released too hastily, has been remixed, giving an underappreciated song a brand-new feel.

The real downfall of “Nirvana” has nothing to do with what is on the album, but rather with what isn’t. While some of these deleted songs may not have been as commercially successful, the absence of tracks like “Aneurism” and “Polly” leave a gaping hole in an otherwise solid album.

A brief glimpse into the pain and angst that shaped a generation may be enough for the casual listener, but there’s too much story to tell in just 14 short songs.

— Aaron Ladage

Jay-Z “The Blueprint 2:

The Gift & the Curse” (Def Jam)

Compare to: Notorious B.I.G., Nas, Beanie Siegel

Rating: 6

On “The Blueprint 2: The Gift & The Curse,” Jay-Z is looking to build upon the success of “The Blueprint,” his best release since 1996’s “Reasonable Doubt.” However, sometimes even the best-laid plans can go awry, and Jigga’s sturdy lyrical bungalow has been remodeled into a sprawling, ugly mansion on this two-CD set.

Jay-Z delivers a mixed bag this time, starting with the contrived Notorious B.I.G. anthem “A Dream.” Just as the listener grows tired of Faith Evans’ mournful hook, Jigga conveniently drops in the entire first verse of B.I.G.’s “Juicy,” minus the line, “Born to get paid/ Blow up like the World Trade” — Biggie’s reference to the first World Trade Center bombing in 1993.

All Sept. 11 sensitivity aside, if Jigga’s got the audacity to lift an entire verse from a B.I.G. classic, one would think he’d have the courage to leave the controversial lyrics intact.

Not to say “Blueprint 2” doesn’t have its high points.

“Poppin’ Tags,” a high-speed opus based on a vintage Marvelettes sample, features the lyrical talents of Big Boi, Killer Mike and Twista. Surprisingly, Jigga’s verse is the weakest — as if he’s making a guest appearance on his own song.

Another highlight of the album, “Bitches and Sisters,” is destined to be one of those tracks the listener hates to love. Jigga carefully illustrates the fine difference between a “sister” and a “bitch” with the lines “Sisters give up the ass/ Bitches give up the ass/ Sisters do it slow/ Bitches do it fast.”

If you’re a Jay-Z fan, you’re going to buy this album and be disappointed — after all, you probably bought the horrendous “Best of Both Worlds,” too.

— Megan Hinds