Remember “The Seed (2.0)” from 2002’s Phrenology? Of course you do, undead young person, because it was fucking awesome, and the polar opposite of every other popular rap song of 2002. Most of the rock songs, too. Like any critic, ‘zine, or best friend down the street could tell you, Phrenology was fantastic, and definitely a move in a different direction from 1999’s equally excellent Things Fall Apart. The jump there was a favorable one, from a style of R&B-funk, which would be perfected one year later by previous Roots-collaborator Common on his Like Water for Chocolate, to an all-new ultra-experimental style of avant-rap that retained that soul and brought so much more. But if 2004’s The Tipping Point left you feeling empty due to its introverted style, you were not the only one. Though Trotter is a strong vocalist, he can’t carry a record on his own, which has long been a big criticism of the band. The Tipping Point left the experiment-heavy style of Phrenology too far behind to work as a proper follow up. But it’s not that the album was lacking soul – you’d be hard-pressed to find a Roots record without it – it’s just that, well, it wasn’t that interesting. Game Theory, their seventh and newest album, improves on The Tipping Point’s faults and comes up with a monster.

Melding some of the band’s most socially conscious lyrics with an expansion on ?uestlove’s signature tic-tic-SMACK drum pattern and the consistently tight Roots rhythm section, Game Theory shows the growth that was lacking on their last record. It begins with a very brief, swelling instrumental piece produced by the late J. Dilla and quickly segues into the dark, Public Enemy-copping “False Media,” a statement that concerns the truly fucked-up state of world affairs by musing on such situations as our “pimping” of nature, American war- and fear-mongering, and the absurdity of expecting kids to be able to keep their composure when things might not be working out so nicely for them in the future. The lacking first single, “Don’t Feel Right,” is sandwiched between two excellent songs featuring ex-fulltime Roots MC Malik B.: the airy-yet-razor-sharp title track, featuring one of Black Thought’s harshest, most emotive deliveries, and the stomping, cavernous drums and deep, slithering synths of “In the Music.” Where “Don’t Feel Right” plays a bit like a hot-right-now K. West knockoff, the other two rip like original Roots productions and better represent the budding tone of the record.

By the back-to-back punch of “Baby,” a subdued rhythm-and-blues lament, and the extra-hard “Here I Come,” it’s obvious that the Roots crew came at this record with the intention of finding a darker sound, one much more reflective of their surroundings. While previous records were sometimes exclusively focused on more personal issues or past struggles, Game Theory is all about being “in the moment” and making The Roots stronger-than-ever political messages heard in an age when every political message is reaching that stronger-than-ever level.

After those two central highlights, however, the record pivots and the last five songs follow old-school hip-hop and contemporary R&B paths. “Long Time” details the hardships of growing up in a tough town during constantly changing times. It also features a verse by up-and-coming Roc-A-Fella MC Peedi Peedi, whose delivery is heavily reminiscent of Lupe Fiasco’s verse on Kanye West’s “Touch The Sky” – pretty good, but it simply can’t touch the main attraction. Two of the best songs of this back half are also the two shortest of the entire record. In the slinking, Beck-esque “Livin’ In A New World,” Black Thought tells of a life spent in a constant state of paranoia due to the media’s unbalanced, fear-heavy presentation of daily life. “Atonement,” whose Radiohead samples might be hard to pick up on at first, feels like it’s creeping and crawling all over its own rhythms. Trotter struggles to slow down his delivery, but it pays off and every word hits hard, making the J*Davey-sung hook an even sweeter payoff. The record ends with one last piece produced by J. Dilla. Another old-school style track, “Can’t Stop This” ends up running long as a tribute to the producer.

Splitting the album up by offering the harder and more uptempo songs first and the quiet, contemplative tracks at the end makes for a bit of an awkward experience at first, but subsequent listens show this to be one of the most consistent releases of the Roots’ career, retaining that darker edge throughout. Unfortunately, it’s also painfully lacking some of the more awesome musical moments that popped up on previous records. On the other hand, by not overloading the record with musicality, the band only adds to the darker atmosphere. Game Theory is an album for the present, and the lyrical themes of rapid and negatively extreme change while living under a poor social climate reflect that perfectly. The rhythms are tight, the words are intelligent, and the production is smooth. The Roots clearly set out to make a dark, deep record that frankly addresses the modern backwards-ass America of 2006. And if that wasn’t the intent, then they sure fucked up big time.