The most remarkable thing about Richard Kelly's directorial debut, Donnie Darko, is its sheer tenacity. After suffering the fatal blow of a post-September 11 release date, the ominous film, which features the destruction of a sleepy suburban household by a falling jet engine, was pulled from theaters. Its subsequent release on video garnered a rabid fan base that elevated the movie to cult status, spawning hundreds of websites devoted to untangling its spidery threads of time-travel logic and spiritual chicanery. Rookie composer Michael Andrews, whose only previous work was for television's Freaks and Geeks, captures the underlying dread and unsettling beauty of the film by remaining reverent to it. Clocking in at just over 30 minutes, the heart of the piece is a pulsing, hypnotic waltz that transports you to the alternate-reality Middlesex, VA where the film takes place. His use of period (1980s) synths and a voxophone, tastefully punctuated by sparse choral arrangements, evoke a Danny Elfman score leached of bombast and quivering in its naked form. Like Air's soundtrack to The Virgin Suicides, Andrews' songs create such a specific sense of place that an entirely different film would emerge in their absence, robbing the consumer of its dizzying afterglow -- the soft, walking pianos on "The Artifact and Living" and "Rosie Darko" tiptoe through your subconscious for weeks. Due to the sparse, six-million-dollar budget of the movie, the producers had to decide whether or not to include celluloid-only tracks like "Killing Moon" by Echo & the Bunnymen and "Under the Milky Way" by the Church or pay for the special effects. They wisely opted for the latter, threw in an extra quarter and allowed Andrews and singer-songwriter Gary Jules to construct the heartbreaking re-working of Tears for Fears' 1983 hit "Mad World," that delivers the last play on Donnie Darko's haunting, apocalyptic jukebox.© TiVo

The Killers' great gift is that they -- and in particular their frontman, Brandon Flowers -- have utterly no recognition of the ridiculous. More than that, they're drawn to the ridiculous, piecing together sounds that don't belong together, reaching far beyond their grasp, aiming for profundity and slipping into silliness. All this weighed the band down mightily on Sam's Town, their convoluted Americana theme park of a sophomore album, all false façades and paper-thin pretension, but on its 2008 sequel, Day & Age, the Killers shrink the canvas and brighten their palette, opting for a big sound over big themes. Since the Killers are at their core poseurs and not prophets, style over substance is the right move and Day & Age has style for miles and miles, exceeding even their debut, Hot Fuss, in its stainless steel gleam. If anything, Hot Fuss was a little too monochromatic in its obsession with '80s synth rock, a criticism that can hardly be leveled at Day & Age, a record that stitches together sounds with an almost blissfully idiotic abandon. Anchored in dance-rock though they may be, the Killers no longer sound like mere disciples of New Order and Duran Duran: emboldened by the left turns of Sam's Town, no matter how misguided they may have been, the Killers will try anything, goosing "Losing Touch" with growling saxophones, creating a Strokes disco for "Joy Ride," flirting with worldbeat à la Vampire Weekend on "This Is Your Life," dancing the bossa nova on "I Can't Stay," and riding a tight soulful rock & roll groove on "The World We Live In," bringing it close to a mad fusion of Steve Miller's "Abracadabra" and Hall & Oates' "Private Eyes." Like before, it's impossible to tell if such improbable juxtapositions are intentional or accidental, but given the overall tightness of Day & Age, it feels as if the Killers do indeed mean to create these odd, often pleasing, pop pastiches. And the emphasis damn well should be on the sound and melody, for Flowers remains a downright goofy lyricist, whether he's misinterpreting Hunter S. Thompson on "Human" or recounting an alien abduction on "Spaceman." Ridiculousness is much harder to stomach in words than it is in music, but the nice thing about Day & Age is that not only is Flowers' voice relatively buried, the Killers are unwittingly comfortable with their ludicrous, outsized pop, which turns the album into terrifically trashy pop. Not the serious rock they yearn to be by any means, but these fashionable threads fit them better anyway.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

Space Is the Place provides an excellent introduction to Sun Ra's vast and free-form jazz catalog. Typical of many Sun Ra recordings, the program is varied; earthbound songs, like the swing number "Images" and Egyptian exotica piece "Discipline," fit right in with more space-age cuts, like the tumultuous "Sea of Sounds" and the humorous "Rocket Number Nine." Sun Ra fuses many of these styles on the sprawling title cut, as interlocking harmonies, African percussion, manic synthesizer lines, and joyous ensemble blowing all jell into some sort of church revival of the cosmos. Throughout the recording, Sun Ra displays his typically wide-ranging talents on space organ and piano, reed players John Gilmore and Marshall Allen contribute incisive and intense solos, and June Tyson masterfully leads the Space Ethnic Voices on dreamy vocal flights. This is a fine recording and a must for Sun Ra fans.© Stephen Cook /TiVo

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With the release of Wow in 2007, Superbus offer up another selection of tracks perfectly suited to radio play and dancefloors, but with a little edge. While lyrically Superbus won't catch anyone by surprise, there's no denying the group's energy. Sometimes compared to No Doubt in their home country of France (perhaps because of the gorgeous frontwoman?), Superbus remain on the softer side, as demonstrated by the single "Butterfly."© Celeste Rhoads /TiVo

As the longest-tenured member of the Arkestra (55-plus years and counting as of 2014), there is no one with a deeper understanding of the music of Sun Ra than Marshall Allen, and that's part of what makes In the Orbit of Ra such a special collection. The Arkestra's long history is often divided into musical/geographic periods or spoken of as a progression from inside to outside playing. This set spans from the late '50s to the late '70s but the non-chronological sequencing shows how artificial those stylistic boundaries are. The tracks chosen show how many of the elements of their more outside material were present even back in the late '50s and there was quite clearly a strong, coherent musical vision in place from the beginning (but most audiences probably weren't ready for it yet). There are a few signature tunes here, but this isn't really a greatest-hits collection. Instead, it's a guided tour from Marshall Allen deep into Sun Ra's music. Each track leads the listener a bit further so by the time Art Jenkins' space voice enters at the end of disc one, it makes perfect sense instead of just being "weird" in a different context. "Solar Differentials" is the perfect setup for the second disc (starting with the hypnotic "Astro Black," replete with industrial drill sounds), which continues the journey with more of a focus on vocal pieces over the years, ultimately leading us back full circle to the beginning in Chicago. In addition to the unreleased tracks "Reflects Motion, Pt. 1" and "Trying to Put the Blame on Me" (a wonderful solo piano piece), there's an unedited "Islands in the Sun" and a bunch of great photos by Val Wilmer. Then there's the remastering: this is easily the best sound most of these tracks have ever had before, on CD or LP. There are any number of great performances here, but Ronnie Boykins' work on bass really stands out with the new remastering. Despite the fact that most of this material was already available, In the Orbit of Ra is close to essential for fans and a pretty good place to start for the curious Sun Ra novice. He really was writing music for the 21st century. © Sean Westergaard /TiVo

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