Two weeks ago, the long-running East Bay punk band AFI made an early bid for mainstream-rock breakthrough of the year when Sing the Sorrow (DreamWorks), their first major-label album and sixth overall, debuted at #5 on the Billboard Top 200. Like Nirvana and Green Day before them, AFI are a talented group with loads of underground cred storming the pop charts with a big-budget disc that retains the spirit of their hit indie releases. That’s the ultimate goal for any punk band with crossover dreams, and it hasn’t been an easy one to achieve in recent years. Which means that AFI’s commercial success isn’t just good news for them — it’s good news for DIY rockers everywhere.

Veteran punk bands don’t just suddenly score hit albums on their reputation alone, so it’s no surprise that AFI (which stands for A Fire Inside) have some of the biggest names in the history of alternative rock in their corner. Their label head (David Geffen) and management team (Gary Gersh and John Silva) were playing those same roles for Nirvana when Nevermind (DGC) broke. With that kind of industry clout in place, the band were able to assemble the ultimate cross-generational tag team of corporate-punk producers: Jerry Finn (Blink-182) and Butch Vig (Nirvana).

It’s tempting to describe " Girl’s Not Grey, " the first single from Sing the Sorrow, as an exhilarating cross between its producers’ two most famous clients: it’s got the anthemic sweep and skatepark rhythms of Blink-182, and its slick production compares favorably to the bubblegum grunge of Nevermind. But thanks to magnetic frontman Davey Havok, AFI are not so easily deconstructed. A seasoned screamer who also boasts an impassioned whine, he’s as much goth sex symbol as he is punk rabble rouser: his hair, make-up, and lyrics could easily be mistaken for those of Glenn Danzig or Cult frontman Ian Astbury (if not Marilyn Manson). And with lines like " All insects sing tonight/The coldest sound/I’d send God’s grace tonight/Could it be found " in the second verse of " Girl’s Not Grey, " Havok establishes himself as a worthy heir to the goth-punk legacy.

To say it’s been a long road to stardom for AFI — who are booked to play Avalon on May 9 — would be an understatement. Formed by Havok and drummer Adam Carson when they were still in high school in remote Ukiah, California, the band hit the East Bay punk scene around the same time Green Day started showing up on MTV. Rancid’s Tim Armstrong produced their first album, Answer That and Stay Fashionable (originally on Wingnut, now reissued on Nitro), and before long they got signed to Offspring frontman Dexter Holland’s Nitro label. Their current line-up (rounded out by guitarist Jade Puget and bassist Hunter) didn’t come together until the recording of the ‘99 disc Black Sails in the Sunset (Nitro), which began their transition from traditional skatepunk to something darker and more complex. The group started attracting major-label attention two years later, when The Art of Drowning (Nitro) cracked the Billboard Top 200 on the strength of the underground hit " The Days of the Phoenix. "

Now comes Sing the Sorrow, a contemporary punk landmark on which the chemistry between Havok and Puget (another Ukiah native, he played in the hardcore band Redemption 87 before joining AFI) reaches dizzying new heights. Giving themselves a full hour to work with, the poet and the melody man touch on everything from jubilant thrash to haunting ambiance with unbridled enthusiasm. " Nothing, from nowhere, I’m no one at all/Radiate, recognize one silent call/As we all form one dark flame/Incinerate, " wails Havok on the opening " Miseria Cantare: The Beginning. " Hardcore kids will be familiar with those themes, and the instrumentation is the spookiest thing this side of Misfits: Puget erects a doom-laden wall of guitars, then adds an extra layer of goth keyboards that pushes the song over the top.

In the wake of that ominous prelude, AFI pick up the tempo and enter a world where pop punk isn’t afraid to be moody. On " The Leaving Song Pt. II, " Havok’s emoting is answered by a rousing group chant, and Puget’s elegant guitar melodies shine a light through the darkness. " Bleed Black " is an uplifting anthem that breaks into a cathartic waltz out of nowhere and closes with a defiant sneer from Havok. " Your sins into me/Oh, my beautiful one/Your sins into me, " sings the frontman on " Silver and Cold, " a shimmering power ballad that falls on the heavy-metal side of the goth spectrum.

AFI then up the aggression factor and make a couple of invigorating nods to their skatepunk/hardcore past. " Will you lend yourself to beauty that will horrify, " howls Havok at the beginning of the second verse on " Dancing Through Sunday " as the band drop out behind him. That song gives his lungs their hardest workout, and Puget joins him in the spotlight with a fiery barrage of old-school guitar histrionics. The melodic hardcore vibe continues on " Death of Seasons, " which plunges even farther into the abyss with a beat-grinding electronic breakdown.

It’s that kind of experimentation that sets AFI apart in the crowded corporate-punk field. Metal, hardcore, and goth are all fair game on Sing the Sorrow, but those disparate influences are integrated into a single-minded whole that never loses sight of its pop foundation. The most commercial track, " This Celluloid Dream, " is a fist-pumping hybrid of Nirvana’s " Smells like Teen Spirit " and Offspring’s " Self Esteem " that features some of Havok’s most evocative lyrics: " You land as lightly as the new snow/Cinematic/Onto the melting boy and melt away. " He takes the melancholy down a notch on " The Leaving Song, " a chilling ballad that’s stripped to his voice and Puget’s guitar.

An album this sprawling demands a big finish, and AFI deliver just that on the 15-minute closing track, which is actually three songs in one. Havok spills his guts on "  . . . but home is nowhere, " an angst-ridden meditation on his 26 years that yields one simple, screaming conclusion: " I remain alone. " The band get more abstract on the untitled spoken-word piece that follows it, a cryptic goth love story accompanied by an assortment of eerie keyboard melodies from Puget. By the time they come back to earth on the weepy finale, " This Time Imperfect, " it’s clear that AFI have taken pop punk into previously uncharted territory — and set a new standard for alternative rock in 2003.

AFI MAY BE THE MOST PROMINENT West Coast art-rock band with hardcore roots who made their major-label debut last month, but they’re not the only one. Seattle punks the Blood Brothers are also getting a shot at the big time with . . . Burn, Piano Island, Burn, their first album for Artist Direct and third overall. The group are the latest protégés of Ross Robinson, the renowned producer who made his name with Korn and Limp Bizkit but has recently thrown his weight behind more subversive acts like At the Drive-In and Glassjaw.

On the first single, " Ambulance Vs. Ambulance, " the Blood Brothers display a knack for surging dissonance that recalls At the Drive-In, but their penchant for white noise surpasses that of every Robinson band this side of Slipknot. Frontmen Johnny Whitney and Jordan Blilie trip over each other’s lines and don’t care much for melody, preferring to scream and yelp in various states of paranoia. Guitarist Cody Votolato dangles slippery chord fragments where most hardcore guys drop bombs; bassist Morgan Henderson and drummer Mark Gajadhar rarely stay in the same place for long. The band’s sound is difficult to wrap your ears around, but it’s also one of the most original in punk.

The first Blood Brothers album, This Adultery Is Ripe, came out three years ago on the hardcore label Second Nature. The band later hooked up with 31G, the label run by Justin Pearson of the infamous San Diego avant-punk group the Locust, for their second disc, March on Electric Children. That release earned them a reputation as one of the most intense outfits on the indie/hardcore circuit, and eventually it brought them to Robinson’s attention.

It doesn’t take the Blood Brothers long to make an impression here: on the 40-second opener, " Guitarmy, " Whitney and Blilie fondly remember wreaking havoc on a boring party while the groove disintegrates around them. " Fucking’s Greatest Hits, " the sarcastic ode to loose women that follows, recalls the preening chaos of the Jesus Lizard with its violent tempo shifts. The band aren’t all bluster, though: two songs later, on " Every Breath Is a Bomb, " they punctuate the noise with a slinky dub interlude. Whitney even contributes a quirky acoustic-guitar hook to " The Salesman, Denver Max, " a creepy child-abduction narrative.

The Blood Brothers’ music generally matches their foreboding themes, but their open-ended approach means they’re not averse to the occasional gesture of accessibility. On the explosive " Cecilia and the Silhouette Saloon, " the band drop out halfway through as Whitney and Blilie slip into a vocal trance that could almost be considered bluesy. They take things even farther on the final track, " The Shame, " which ends with a claustrophobic sing-along: " Everything is going to be just awful when we’re around. " Still, the disc is far from radio-friendly, and if a band this challenging can get a major-label deal, the alternative side of rock may not be dead after all.

AFI perform Friday May 9 at Boston’s Avalon; call (617) 423-NEXT.