Without warning, bands can and do often say, "and now for something completely different." With an excruciating 10-year, unofficial hiatus separating "Third" and the eponymous second Portishead studio release, one should naturally expect massive change. As such, a first listen to the unimaginatively titled "Third" can be a little confusing or even off-putting. The static laden samples and sluggish scratching are gone, and most electronic effects have been pushed into a warmly analog Moog and Theremin role. However, patience and a little faith reveal Portishead's third LP to be a work of sublime subtlety and dynamic depression easily on par with its critically adored predecessors. Building on the second album, this is their most "live" studio work yet, as well as their most obviously diverse effort. "The Rip" is a fine piece, starting off with a humble Theremin howl and a finger-picked acoustic guitar. "Plastic" is probably most like the mid-'90s Portishead we came to worship. "We Carry On" has an up-tempo, tribal beat and steady moaning keyboard. Overall, "Third" appears to give jazz guitarist Adrian Utley more reign in songwriting, while turntablist producer Geoff Barrow has put his coffin away in lieu of outboard analog gear. Yet as always, the unsettling lounge singer stylings of Beth Gibbons is the focal point. - Filmore Mescalito Holmes

The title of the Roots' eighth studio album, "Rising Down," is taken from William T. Vollmann's book "Rising Up and Rising Down: Some Thoughts on Violence, Freedom and Urgent Means," originally published as a seven-volume tome in 2003. That connection to a literary/cultural consciousness is what defines the band as a contradictory force in the thick of an otherwise trend-hungry pop culture. While the album may not be the minutia-racked equivalent of Vollmann's 3,352-page opus, "Rising Down" does prove to be a provocative peer of cultural riot-acting and pragmatic contextualization - though, as contemporary pop music, it provides a much more immediate delivery of social ethics from a street-level perspective. This sort of thematic tack is old hat for the Roots, who have been making music of "urgent means" and concern for years now. "Rising Down" serves up an infuriated and uneasy take on a well-trod methodology that transforms mere fin de siecle paranoia into point-of-no-return panic. Throughout the record, the Roots (with a seemingly endless reserve of guests that includes Dice Raw, Peedi Peedi, former Roots member Malik B., Common and Talib Kweli) touch upon global warming and the hypocrisy of the American healthcare system, police brutality and the provocations of crime, life during wars of absurdity and principle, and, ultimately, how the only way out of it all is access to ridiculous wealth and/or industry. - Zeth Lundy

Robyn's fourth album, simply entitled "Robyn," is her most honest and infectious outing to date - or was in 2005 when it was released in Europe. Walking a dangerous line between relevance and exclusivity, she whisks away any and all pretensions and presumptions associated with her persona, replacing them with instances of child-like playfulness, suggestive sexuality, "off-colour" humor and a genuine wisdom gained through persevering as a strong woman in a very male industry. What works so well on "Robyn" is how perfectly wrapped up all of these ideas are in a pop album so riotous, so unrelenting and so bold that you almost don't truly get what you've just experienced until you start it all over again. The most impressive thing about "Robyn" is just how timeless it is proving to be. In the world of pop, a musician's shelf life is all too often linked with their ability to move units. Robyn has defied this logic and has been kind enough to give us all a second chance. You'll find that "Robyn" will not only provide that snapshot of popular culture, both biting and apt, but also put forth a perennial collection of sonic splendors and surprisingly visceral conceits that just might (and rightly should) catapult Robyn into the canon of pop geniuses. - Daniel Rivera

Jamie Lidell's "Multiply" might have faded from our minds and iPods since 2005, but the British blue-eyed soul singer is back in a big way. A big, romantic, retro, soul kind of a way, that is. His second solo album on Warp (not counting the collection of "Multiply" remixes released in 2006), "Jim" picks right up where the earlier record left off... almost. Lidell's new collection of songs is both more polished and more genre-limited than "Multiply." But because the Berlin-based singer is such a consummate professional, this material is an absolute pleasure to hear from start to finish. In an indie music atmosphere that's leaning (this year) decidedly towards the folk and psych ends of the spectrum, Lidell's retro style provides a welcome contrast (as indeed it did in 2005). Nevertheless, a quick comparison: return to "Multiply" after you've just heard "Little Bit of Feel Good," and the older song sounds staid, contained, understated. But maybe that's unfair, because "Little Bit of Feel Good" is the funkiest, most exuberant song on the album. It's impossible to resist. If not Best New Music, it's Best Music That's Being Made Right Now. - Dan Raper

Recorded over two late December nights, "Live at the Fillmore East" is a homecoming of sorts, a triumphant return to the band's home city. The performances are strong. David Johansen's voice has a huskier tone than in the "70s, eerily embodying the white bloozemen he once winkingly parodied. Sylvain Sylvain, the only other original member, still wields a furious axe. The newbies cannot replace their deceased forebears, and they wisely don't try, staying in the background and not stealing thunder from the main attractions. Speeded-up versions of "Personality Crisis" and "Puss "n' Boots" are urgent and raucous. And yet, as has been the case with the Dolls' previous official and bootleg live discs, "Fillmore East" is ultimately a letdown. The sequencing and song selection seems haphazard and safe. Uptempo numbers are disproportionately emphasized-nine in a row, in fact. Given that Broadway-ready showstoppers have highlighted the Dolls' new material, the dearth of ballads is particularly disheartening. The collection omits entirely the vast repertoire of non-album cover songs, largely pre-Beatles rock numbers, that have long been Dolls show staples. For a worthwhile, true-to-spirit recording of the Dolls' blazing onstage prowess, the wait continues. - Charles A. Hohman