or its title alone, Suburan Hymns piqued my interest. I am obsessed with many things, and one of them is suburbia, where mundane things can become magical, and where magical things can become mundane. A suburban teenager might find a dingy convenience store to be the most exciting place in the world, with the vast selection of sodas serving as a microcosm of all of life’s possibilities. But that same kid might shrug their shoulders at being forced to watch a majestic sunset with their family, upset about anything that interferes with downloading a mod off a Dutch website so that they might be able to view pornographic scenes on Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas. What a world.

Song titles like “Muscle Cars,” “Skateland,” “Running Redlights,” and “A Chorus of Crickets” are what caused me to hope that The Life and Times had crafted an excellent suburban concept album. I suppose I was destined for a letdown, but disappointment is never fun.

There are several problems with Suburban Hymns. Almost all are small, but one is massive. The use of vocal echo effects on this album is pointlessly excessive. Vocalist Allen Epley’s lyrics are nearly impossible to understand. This is partly due to his tendency to drag words out past their limits, which isn’t always a bad thing—it adds some moodiness to his songs—but when combined with the vocal echoes, the words ooze together and the message is lost.

All other problems pale in comparison, but still speak to the anonymity of the Life and Times’ sound. The band seems unaware of just what type of music they’re trying to make. “Charlotte St.” exemplifies this problem. It begins with sluggish mid-90s alt-rock verses. By the time the chorus comes around, though, “Charlotte St.” has morphed into an indie/dancepunk ditty circa 2003. Perhaps the Life and Times should be recognized for being the first band to craft a song that’s equal parts Candlebox and Electric Six. Or maybe not.

Hearing (at least I thought I heard) about signing someone’s cast during “Skateland” was an amusing moment, and “Mea Culpa” is the band’s “Moby Dick” of sorts, allowing listeners to hear that drummer Chris Metcalf is clearly the band’s most valuable asset. The Life and Times don’t have any nails-on-chalkboard songs; Suburban Hymns isn’t going to upset anyone. A younger listener might really like them. At one point I thought Dovetail Joint, to whom The Life and Times are strikingly similar, was going to be the next big thing.

But by the time the vocal effects were finally taken off for the closer, I’d long lost interest. Unfortunately, Suburban Hymns represents the nights wasted in someone’s basement watching Never Been Kissed as opposed to evenings spent pool-hopping, knocking things down in grocery stores, or any other way of making oneself a nuisance to old people. It really is hit or miss when you deal with suburbia, and this, my friends, is a miss.