Third Eye Blind: Ursa Major

"This is some Benjamin Button stuff going on". We're not usually ones for pop culture references but it seems rather apt on this occasion.

Instead of being born old and growing younger though (as does the character in the priorly mentioned book/film), this album is born sounding so dated it could have starred in Gone With the Wind. It then precedes to have a stroke at the ripe old age of 89 (or 2, depending on how you look at it). You get the impression that had this baby reached 88, you might have seen some serious *coughs*... stuff, but alas, it possess all the charm, melody and wit of a premiership football team charity single.

The predominant issue is the complete lack of synergy between the lyrics and the music. Lead single "Don't Believe A Word" is supposed to be an irate anthem devoted to the venting of repressed rage. Thanks to the awkward half-rapped vocal delivery and one-hundred-percent unsuitable sparkling guitar riff it instead sounds like a party political broadcast for the Muppet Babies party. By the time the mid-song pantomime falsetto and half-hearted scream-section comes around, you're more likely to be rolling in the aisles than storming the Bastille. It's like setting the music of "I Will Always Love You" to lyrics dealing with necrophilia.

When Ursa Major isn't being plain ridiculous, it's usually being ridiculously dull. The vast majority of the tracks will likely leave you with the thought "Man, I don't even have an opinion" lodged in your mind. "Bonfire" is just by-rote vocals with the standard guitar tone which renders any kind of chord or note changes moot due to its over processing. Or perhaps Tony Fredianelli, the band's guitarist is simply using the same riff over-and-over again: it's hard to discern.

The we have "One in Ten", a song with the sexual politics of a Viking attack. In it, front-man Stephan Jenkins describes his crush on a lesbian and his attempts to "flip" her. His line of reasoning? "What's the difference / When it goes down? / If it's a girl or if it's guys / Can't you just close your eyes? / Baby, close your eyes". Try that one on your mates in the pub next time, that should thin the cost of the next round for you.

When he's not Chasing Amy, Jenkins is also concocting drum 'n' bass rap sections ("Water Landing") which show of his love of reggae. White men, rapping, reggae and pan-pipes? Feel free to summon the Cenobite Pinhead and chain us to the wall, it would be a relief.

What else is likely to engage the gag reflex. How about children's choirs ("Monotov's Private Opera"), horrendous wah-wah-guitar during serene passages of music ("Carnival Barker"), or perhaps the ruining of the one genuinely decent song on the album by pointlessly adding distortion and overlaying a guitar solo so hackneyed, you may as well lamp yourself over the head with Bay's Big Book of Cliché dipped in Parmesan. "Sharp Knife", that one was, in case you were wondering.

Since they've fallen down in every single department of ensemble musical composition, we feel compelled to issue the rules of Third Eye Blind. The first rule of Third Eye Blind is: you do not talk about Third Eye Blind. The second rule of Third Eye Blind: you do not talk about Third Eye Blind.

If they're very lucky, we'll still remember them with fondness as the band who did the "do do do, do da do doo" song as opposed to the band who gave us this huge pile of Yes Dear.