For its ambition, The Black Parade echoes that other rock record of Oct., 2006, the Killers' Sam's Town: brash guitars, brassy horns and Gerard Way's adenoidal yelp drive a concept album about a cancer victim's ghost (or something). Unlike their Vegas brethren, though, MCR don't switch up styles in an effort to squeeze a little gravitas out of their glossy rock. On this follow up to their 2004 breakout, they're slam-dancing with the vaguely gothic, amphetamine-laced sound that brung 'em. See if you don't do a spit-take when the titular single storms the ramparts toward the end. Epic and gutsy.