With the release of the much anticipated rock opera “Hazards of Love,” indie rock superstars The Decemberists now sit with some of the greats.

The album is the great rock opera of this generation.

Rock operas are often experimental albums that generally develop cult followings.

The songs are best played in succession and generally flow into one another, following a plot line.

Not to be confused with concept albums, where songs have a similar theme but not necessarily a plot line, like David Bowie’s “Ziggy Stardust,” rock operas may or may not also have plays or films to accompany them.

Filled with enough crazy props, sets and guest stars to rival a Superbowl halftime show, the rock opera film is generally one that is so absurd; we can’t help but fall in love with it.

Pete Townshend, guitarist for The Who, invented the term and the genre with the over the top and wonderful rock opera “Tommy.”

“Tommy” was released in 1969 and spawned the classics “Pinball Wizard” and “See Me, Feel Me.”

In 1975, the already absurd plot line took the incarnation of a film staring Roger Daltrey as the deaf, dumb and blind kid himself and a crazy looking Ann-Margret as his mother.

With cameo appearances by the likes of Elton John, Eric Clapton and Tina Turner, the film is a mine of acid-filled ridiculousness.

The Who released their second rock opera with 1979’s “Quadrophenia,” which replaces acid and pinball with emotion and schizophrenia. 

The rock opera has now been expanded to include other spin-off genres.

R. Kelly referred to his multiple-part debacle “Trapped in the Closet” as a “Hip-hopera.”

Green Day called their album “American Idiot” a “punk rock opera.”

By far my favorite is Ciara’s 2008 album “High Price,” which she calls a “crunk opera.”

But even Andrew Lloyd Weber took a chance and wrote a rock opera with “Jesus Christ Superstar,” which is a refreshing change from a play about leotard wearing space cats.

The story of Jesus has never been, and will never be, quite so catchy.

It is also remarkably true to the Bible, if the Bible were set in the 70s to some infectious, intense guitar riffs; and, if King Herod was a snarky, yellow-sunglass and gold chain wearing man performing choreographed dance with women in neon bell-bottoms.

Regardless, rock operas are, by nature, over the top, epic and very sing-a-long-able.

Plus, they give even the most avid haters of spontaneous singing and dancing, late rent payments and mountaintop spinning an excuse to love musicals without ridicule.

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