Nina Nastasia & Jim White, 'You Follow Me' (FatCat)

Haunting, minimal singer given a boost by drummer partner.

Renowned for his swashbuckling swing with the Dirty Three, Aussie percussionist Jim White also plays behind White Magic, Nick Cave, and PJ Harvey, and now shares top billing with neo-gothic New York chanteuse Nina Nastasia (whom he also backed on her last three albums). Call it a duet, with White encouraging the dour singer to turn back toward the light.

The Pipettes, 'We Are the Pipettes' (Interscope)

For all the love given to classic, built-from-scratch girl groups - even Rhino's 2005 B-list box set, One Kiss Can Lead to Another, received almost universal acclaim - it's surprising that they're so rarely manufactured successfully (except when they're pseudo strippers like the Pussycat Dolls).

Odd Nosdam, 'Level Live Wires' (Anticon)

Atmospheric art-rap producer emerges from his spooky lair.

Odd Nosdam's David Madson -- also known as beatsmith for the avant hip-hop threesome cLOUDDEAD -- finally gives his dark, dense instrumentals room to breathe on his fifth album.

Manic Street Preachers, 'Send Away the Tigers' (Red Ink)

Welsh agit-rock lifers attempt to accentuate the positive.

Treated like deities in the U.K. but ignored Stateside (guitarist Richey Edwards' tragic disappearance before a 1995 U.S. tour was a devastating setback), Manic Street Preachers have spent a career combining meaty protest rants and slick stadium hooks.

Junior Senior, 'Hey Hey My My Yo Yo' (Rykodisc/ Crunchy Frog)

"Move Your Feet" duo return with dance-pop celebration.

On their follow-up to 2003's D-D-Don't Don't Stop the Beat, this Danish duo condense pop's last 45 years into the pure, simple essence of an early Jackson 5 single. In word, style, and sound, they exude cross-cultural idealism with scratchy soul guitars, joyous bubblegum hooks, shape-shifting harmonies, stuttering rhymes, and live beats.

Mavado, 'Gangsta for Life: The Symphony of David Brooks' (VP)

Jamaica's hottest gangsta is bummed - profoundly.

It's a good thing Mavado sounds so miserable. If he didn't, the dancehall don's debut -- a barrage of drum-and bass-heavy tunes about guns, guns, and more guns -- might become just another bloated, repetitive exercise in glorified clichés.

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