As the early-'90s alt-rock renaissance fades further into history, it's interesting to note which of its bands have spawned the most imitators: Pearl Jam has been an obvious touchstone for countless melodramatic rock acts, as have the moaning, self-lacerating dirges of Alice In Chains. Alongside the enormously influential likes of Descendents, Green Day has also helped inspire innumerable guitar-slinging followers, from Blink-182 to Sum 41 to various acts that don't include numbers in their names. Among the most promising newcomers is Something Corporate, a group of barely post-high-school kids who gussy up their familiar punk-pop template with everything from strings to earnestly angst-ridden thoughts about the state of the world. The band's major-label debut, Leaving Through The Window, even gets to have it both ways, affecting a social conscience on "Good News" while shredding a high-school antagonist in the sophomoric-but-cathartic "iF yoU C Jordan." (The climactic refrain "Fuck you, Jordan!" is surefire chant-along fodder at live shows, a side effect not likely lost on the group.) Something Corporate would have been well-served by a bit less ambition, as Window's bloated 57-minute running time and string arrangements make the whole affair seem a bit more substantial than it really is. But the album's promising, crowd-pleasing mix of pop, pomp, and populism is refreshing, especially without the distracting puerility of similarly tuneful forebears like Blink-182. Speaking of Blink-182, singer-guitarist Tom DeLonge and drummer Travis Barker have momentarily shed their day job's jokey proclivities for their side project Box Car Racer, tackling weighty issues like mortality ("Letters To God"), suicide ("Elevator"), and hopelessness ("I Feel So") while paying tribute to their punk-rock forebears. Rancid's Tim Armstrong even turns in a memorable cameo on "Cat Like Thief," but amid the homage-paying and message songs, Box Car Racer's self-titled debut sates Blink-182 fans' appetites with juicy choruses, the occasional gag (the 63-second "My First Punk Song"), and an appearance by the band's Mark Hoppus. The resulting record does a nice job of showcasing the songcraft and earnest intentions that often get overshadowed by Blink-182's lowbrow jokes. As DeLonge and Barker themselves begin to age into influential elder statesmen, it's refreshing to see them working to deepen their legacy. Countless bands may take the easy way out and co-opt their butt jokes and bombastic choruses—just as Eddie Vedder's guttural moans have been mindlessly aped by 10,000 awful knockoffs—but at least they're giving followers more to chew on these days.