Ozomatli, 'Don't Mess With the Dragon' (Concord)

Longtime Angeleno progressives decide to get retarded in here.

No doubt inspired by the massive success of the Black Eyed Peas (their former peers in Los Angeles' '90s anti-gangsta rap underground), these proudly multicultural groove merchants downplay the hip-hop boom-bap on their fourth studio disc, in favor of busy pop jams that mirror the overstimulation of 21st-century city life.

Willowz, 'Chautauqua' (Dim Mak)

Former teen phenoms are at that awkward stage.

As the favorite band of French director Michel Gondry, and as probably the truest spiritual descendants of Jack White's impetuous early years, Willowz have both a leg up and something to live up to. Coyly ambitious and in-the-moment exciting, their third album still revolves around jumpy, trashy guitars, but also tries, unconvincingly, to integrate moments of winsome reflection.

Grinderman, 'Grinderman' (MUTE/Anti-)

Nick Cave desperately wants to spread his bad seed.

Attention, ladies: Nick Cave's got the "No Pussy Blues." "I sent her every type of flower / I played her guitar by the hour / I patted her revolting little Chihuahua," the blues-punk bard howls on the debut of his new band, Grinderman. "But still she just didn't want to.” Cave's cold comfort of choice?

Palomar, 'All Things, Forests' (Misra)

Sad ladies build a Brooklyn tenement wall of sound.

Like the Bangles with a death wish, this indie-rock girl gang (and a token guy) begin their fourth CD with Shangri-Las harmonies on a song about being buried. And though they aren't afraid anymore of sounding bigger than four kids in a rented room, singer Rachel Warren still comes off as disenchanted.

Kings of Leon, 'Because of the Times' (RCA)

Enigmatic family act still struggling to connect.

Despite their well-publicized evangelical upbringing, I have no idea what religion Kings of Leon practice. I suspect they'd make lousy Buddhists -- because repetition, when it's feeding meditation, is supposed to lead to deep thoughts, and no matter how many times you repeat, "She said call me now, baby / And I'd come a-runnin'," it doesn't quite cut it.

The Academy Is…, 'Santi' (Fueled By Ramen)

Promising Chicago rockers try to fix what ain't broke.

Ah, the career makeover. It's always a risky move, especially when you're onto something that doesn't really need improving. Unfortunately, the follow up to this beloved emo troop's outstanding 2005 debut ditches the band's instantly memorable hooks and embraces a new group of apparent idols.

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