Naming her long-awaited second album Trouble in Paradise might have been tempting fate if La Roux's Elly Jackson hadn't endured plenty of hardships between 2009's self-titled debut and its follow-up. Writer's block, the departure of collaborator Ben Langmaid, panic attacks that left Jackson unable to sing, and extensive recording sessions all delayed her return to the point that "where are they now?" stories seemed more likely than a second album. However, the lasting impact of La Roux's whip-smart synth pop -- which became a template for countless other '80s-worshiping acts during Jackson's absence -- proved her music could still be relevant five years later. She wastes no time reminding listeners of her charms with Trouble in Paradise's opening tracks: "Uptight Downtown" (which borrows starkly echoing guitars from David Bowie's "Let's Dance") and "Kiss and Not Tell" offer more of "Quicksand" and "Bulletproof"'s cleverly bouncy pop, minus some bite. Elsewhere, Jackson downplays the stiff electronics that made such an intriguing contrast with her emotive singing and lyrics on La Roux. She trades them for a warmer, disco and reggae-inspired sound that shines on "Tropical Chancer"'s electro-calypso hybrid (which also evokes Bananarama's similarly sunburnt and heartbroken "Cruel Summer") but often just isn't as distinctive as before; that a song called "Sexotheque" is merely pleasant is a dubious achievement. Jackson also uses this softer sound to explore more vulnerable songwriting territory: much of Trouble in Paradise teeters between independence and codependence, whether it's "Cruel Sexuality"'s stifled desire or the boundary setting of "Let Me Down Gently." Jackson's feisty side doesn't resurface until "Silent Partner," where the relentless bassline and expansive length seem to nod to the success La Roux's singles had as dance remixes. At other times, the album's rangy tracks just seem padded, particularly on the lulling ballad "Paradise Is You." While La Roux was so full of hits and should-be hits that almost anything that followed would pale by comparison, Trouble in Paradise might have fared better as an EP of the best songs here. However, the album's standouts also prove Jackson is still better than many of her contemporaries when it comes to making fizzy electro-pop. This may not be a thrilling return, but it's still a welcome one.© Heather Phares /TiVo

Sebastien Tellier has, as the British music mags of the '70s used to put it, heavy friends: in his native France, he's signed to Air's boutique label, and this, his fourth album, was produced by Daft Punk's Guy-Manuel de Homem-Christo. Previous records have been intriguing and fitfully great mergings of modern French electronica and sophisticated chamber pop, but Sexuality is built almost entirely on the Air/Daft Punk model of vintage synthesizer sounds melded to canny pop songwriting. Unfortunately, it hews so closely to that concept that most of Tellier's own personality is lost. Nominally a concept album concerning the titular topic, Sexuality is too chilly and cerebral to be particularly erotic: even on "Pomme," the requisite homage to Serge Gainsbourg's sleaze pop epic "Je T'Aime, Moi Non Plus," the anonymous female moans in the background are curiously overt in their utter fakeness. There are some very good tracks here: the light-hearted "Divine" is a brilliant homage to early-'80s synth pop built on sampled voice fragments (like most of Trevor Horn's productions for the Art of Noise, Yes, and others circa 1984) and featuring the album's most immediately arresting melody. The Art of Noise comparison is even more apparent later, on the languid "Manty," which is built on loops of wordless female harmonies and a woman's fetching giggle that make it sound like a close cousin of the epic "Moments in Love." Elsewhere, the album's first single, the seven-minute instrumental "Sexual Sportswear," sounds like Air's take on vintage '70s synthesizer records like Jean-Michel Jarre's Oxygene, and is as curiously irresistible as that description suggests, and the equally retro clavinet sound that drives the hushed closer "L'Amour et la Violence" is pretty swell too. But too much of Sexuality consists of rote dance-pop songs like "Kilometre" and the utterly average slow jams "Elle" and "Une Heure,": pleasant enough tracks, but with little of the wit and invention of Tellier's best work.© Stewart Mason /TiVo

After dipping his toes in the notion of using backing musicians on Talking With the Taxman About Poetry, Billy Bragg finally dove in headfirst with Worker's Playtime, but Don't Try This at Home was where Bragg first began to sound completely comfortable with the notion of a full band. With Johnny Marr (who helped produce two tracks), Peter Buck, Michael Stipe, and Kirsty MacColl on hand to give the sessions a taste of star power, Don't Try This at Home sounds full but uncluttered; the arrangements (most complete with -- gasp! -- drums) flesh out Bragg's melodies, giving them greater strength in the process, and Billy's craggy vocals wrap around the melodies with significantly more flexibility than on previous recordings. With the exception of the rabble-rousing "Accident Waiting to Happen" and "North Sea Bubble," and the witty "Sexuality," most of Don't Try This at Home finds Billy Bragg in a contemplative mood; the political tunes are subtle (and don't hector), such as the mournful "Rumours of War," and the songs about love tend to examine the less hopeful side of relationships, like "Mother of the Bride" and the lovely "You Woke Up My Neighborhood." But there's also an understated wit to many of the songs, especially the well-drawn "God's Footballer," and Bragg approached the work of other songwriters to splendid effect on Fred Neil's "Dolphins and Sid Griffin's "Everywhere." Don't Try This at Home isn't the sort of album that announces itself loudly, but slip into its understated textures and you'll discover one of Bragg's warmest and most thoughtful albums. © Mark Deming /TiVo

Like 1998's Rhythm-al-ism, Balance & Options is yet another star-filled joint for DJ Quik. Featuring appearances from AMD, Erick Sermon, Skaboobie, James DeBarge, the long-lost Digital Underground, and Raphael, Quik comes correct with tracks like "U Ain't Fresh" and "Do Watcha Want."© John Bush /TiVo

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