The Roots, 'Rising Down' (Def Jam)

Philly crew masterfully reconcile their conflicted mission.

As a general rule, Roots albums don't offer immediate gratification. Their concept-driven themes demand repeat listens, which doubtless can be attributed to the complex, good-cop/Bad Lieutenant dichotomy between the band's founding members, drummer/producer ?uestlove and MC Black Thought.

Gossip, 'Live in Liverpool' (Music With a Twist/Columbia)

Despite Brits' adoration, punky belter could use a band boost.

If this CD-plus-DVD package included the tinsel wig and sweat-soaked leopard unitard that singer Beth Ditto wore at this July 2007 U.K. show, maybe it could've approximated the experience of Ditto dancing herself into a disrobing fever. Instead, it's her vocals that are left exposed -- neither the band's guitarist nor the drummer can match the intensity of her bellow.

Flight of the Conchords, 'Flight of the Conchords' (Sub Pop)

Despite appearances, New Zealanders also funny on record.

This New Zealand duo dignify the term "novelty band," whether spoofing Pet Shop Boys or decrying the high cost of sneakers made by "little slave kids" in a socially conscious soul anthem. Divorced from their HBO series, the songs have room to stretch a little, only occasionally sacrificing context.

The Kooks, 'Konk' (Astralwerks)

NME heartthrobs still in search of their "woo-hoo" moment.

These British phenoms' energetic pop-rock tunes are eminently listenable and sometimes downright joyous (album opener "See the Sun"), but nary a nanosecond of the Kooks' second album could be called original (the Strokes again, eh?). And for now, Luke Pritchard and Co.

El Perro Del Mar, 'From the Valley to the Stars' (The Control Group)

Swedish pop princess crafts her own icily morose Motown.

Aside from the bouncing ivories of "Somebody's Baby" and the girl-group harmonies of groovy gem "How Did We Forget?" Sarah Assbring's third LP ditches the Phil Spector styling behind her 2006 self-titled breakout. Instead, she goes for arty, sparse concepts and downcast instrumentation -- church organs, strings, xylophones, and flutes -- to accompany her tenderly angelic melodrama.

The Death Set, 'Worldwide' (Counter)

Transplanted twosome screech along like ecstatic punk pups.

Like seemingly everyone emerging from Baltimore's pogo-stick-and-glow-stick indie music scene, Australian natives the Death Set rock out à la Looney Tunes -- maniacal, colorful, and giddy. They're punks with lo-fi drum machines and keyboards, crafting spastic sing-alongs that channel the Blood Brothers and rarely top two minutes.

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