TP.3 RELOADED BY R. KELLY / JIVE

On R. Kelly's last album, "Happy People/U Saved Me," which was released after he was hit with child pornography charges, R. Kelly chose a family-friendly, spiritual vibe — praising the joys of God instead of his usual wild sexual shenanigans.

With his new disc, Kelly will have plenty to repent for.

If you thought the man who came up with such freaky songs as "Bump 'N Grind" or "Ignition" (on which he compared lovemaking to driving a car) couldn't come up with anything wilder, listen to "Sex In the Kitchen."

"Remote Control" continues his penchant for comparing sex to machinery — "baby push enter, then fast forward," he croons on one delightfully naughty track. "Put My T-Shirt On" sounds like a reply to Destiny's Child's pillow-talk slow jam "T-Shirt," but of course Kelly ratchets up the foreplay and a whole lot more (take that, Jay-Z!) — never has a white T sounded so erotic.

The disc is weakest when Kelly tries to appeal to the fellas with thug anthems like "Players Only" with The Game. But for all the sex talk, Kelly's best effort is the five-part serial drama "Trapped in the Closet" (a bonus DVD includes the music video). The songs tell a dramatic story about an episode of infidelity that has a ricochet effect, touching several different people and leading to dramatic confrontations that are hilarious and riveting at the same time.

Even after hearing the "Trapped" songs a dozen times, they're still stirring, demonstrating Kelly's amazing ability to draw in listeners with either raw sex grooves or musical cliffhangers.

It's hard to imagine any other artist, in any genre, with such a gift.

"Mighty Rearranger" by Robert Plant and the Strange Sensation; Sanctuary

Robert Plant's post-Led Zeppelin albums have been a patchwork of experimentation, with bits of new wave, roots rock and Eastern accents inflecting his music.

"Mighty Rearranger," his latest, synthesizes those elements into a cohesive collection of songs made whole by the talented group of musicians backing him. Plant dabbles with a speedy blues shuffle on the title track, plays with exotic Middle Eastern tones on "Takamba" and rocks out Zeppelin-style on "Shine It All Around," which features an imposing drum part worthy of John Bonham.

A mammoth guitar riff erupts toward the end of "Tin Pan Valley," on which Plant takes a few lyrical pokes at the entertainment industry: "My peers may flirt with cabaret, some fake the 'rebel yell'/Me — I'm moving up to higher ground, I must escape their hell," he sings. Rod Stewart, are your ears burning?

Although he's 56, Plant can still summon the otherworldly howl of mid-period Led Zeppelin. He's also grown into ballads that once might have been outsized: "All the Kings Horses" is mature and reflective, with an acoustic guitar part reminiscent of "The Rain Song."

— Eric R. Danton, Hartford (Conn.) Courant

MASTER OF DISASTER BY JOHN HIATT; NEW WEST

Conventional wisdom among music observers holds that John Hiatt's albums have suffered in quality since he found domestic bliss in the late '80s.

It's a load of manure, of course: Hiatt's rootsy 2000 album "Crossing Muddy Waters" is one of the finest of his lengthy career.

It is true, though, that his most recent records haven't exhibited the same powerful songwriting that makes his best work essential. Even re-summoning the Goners, the ace Louisiana band Hiatt furloughed after his "Slow Turning" album, couldn't compensate for the patchy focus on 2001's "The Tiki Bar is Open" and 2003's "Beneath This Gruff Exterior."

There are occasional sparks on "Masters of Disaster" such as the dark, sardonic celebration of automotive ingenuity on "Thunderbird" and the harmonica-laced ballad "When My Love Crosses Over." Mostly, though, lackluster tunes scarce on memorable lyrics or melodic hooks are the order.

Hiatt has been better, though, and the real disaster (maybe just disappointment) here is the contrast between now and when he wrote everything with the touch of a master.

— Eric R. Danton

NOBODY'S DARLINGS BY LUCERO; LIBERTY LAMENT

On "Nobody's Darlings," its fourth album, the Memphis outfit Lucero continues to establish itself as one of the finest purveyors of dusty, twangy rock 'n' roll. Granted, the band — singer and guitarist Ben Nichols, drummer Roy Berry, bassist Glen Stubblefield and guitarist Brian Venable — once again follows the same blueprint for album-building: Mix lonely, introspective ballads with brawling rockers and anchor them with Nichols' whiskey-throated rasp. It's the same formula the band has used on its previous releases, but it's hard to find fault when the results are so consistently good. And given how few people have heard their first three albums, even newbies will be able to follow the Lucero style.

The quiet tunes, such as "Sixteen," "All the Same to Me" and the weary title track are informed by small-town ennui and loneliness; thanks to producer Jim Dickinson's laissez-faire approach, the songs sound lived in. So do the rockers: Nichols and company raise hell on the opener, "Watch It Burn"; get in a bar fight on "Bikeriders"; and drink till dawn on "Last Night in Town." There's not a weak tune in the batch.

On earlier albums, Lucero proved it was a top-flight alt-country band. Now, with "Nobody's Darlings," the musicians make a case for being simply a great band, regardless of genre. The album title is a misnomer.

— Stephen Haag, Hartford (Conn.) Courant