After enduring painfully mediocre exports like Jet and the Vines, we welcome another Aussie retro-rock trio with some trepidation. Not to mention the near criminality of showing up to the party late with "wolf" in your band name. But fortunately, Wolfmother succeed where their countrymen fail, simply by not trying so hard. While Jet get daily haircuts and Craig Nichols pretends to be more fucked up than Kurt, singer Andrew Stockdale is too busy growing an afro and wailing about white unicorns, pyramids and whatever other weird, Jethro Tull medieval imagery he can dream up. Although his White Stripes-meets-Black Sabbath riffs can be a little off-the-shelf, his shape-shifting falsetto lights the spark needed to turn over Wolfmother's rock engines on standout tracks like Mother and Dimension. The shelf life of this stuff can be fleeting (ask the Darkness), but for now it sounds pretty good.