The most entertaining thing about Some Truth & A Little Money, the debut album from The Bloody Lovelies, was disappointingly not found on the album, but rather on the press release which came with the CD. In a touching display of hubris, these self-described "4 rockers"-bassist Eric Holden, drummer Craig Macintyre, guitarist Lance Konnerth, and vocalist and pianist Randy Wooten-claim to have come along to help anyone who is "disheartened by the current state of MTV rock... [to] revitalize [their] faith." Exactly what kind of faith is supposed to be revitalized by the sole act of listening to this music is never explained. After giving the CD a spin, I must honestly say that the only "faith" The Bloody Lovelies managed to revitalize was my faith in the theory that any non-Tenacious D band which repeatedly proclaims its awesomeness will be quickly proven to be very, very mistaken.

To be fair, there are some bright spots on the album, particularly in the melodies. The instruments are well-played, the music is often arranged in a classy manner that far surpasses the average skill of similar modern young bands and occasionally, the tunes venture off in creative directions. The Middle Eastern riff of "You Don't Love Me" stands out in particular, as it has that much-desired potential for getting stuck in the listener's head all day long. Also of note are the last and second-to-last songs, "A Million Years From Now" and "Rosarita." The former is a mellow, gentle ballad; the latter an upbeat jazzy number.

Nevertheless, these songs make up the exception rather than the general rule as far as the album goes. Most are either bland and unmemorable, or sound suspiciously similar to previous tracks. "The Money Song," which comes relatively late in the CD, seemed so familiar to me, despite the fact that I had never heard it before. Soon, however, the reason for this odd sense of dj vu became clear-the verses of "The Money Song" were set to music which was a direct takeoff of "You Don't Love Me." The only thing that this self-borrowing accomplishes is setting into deeper relief the fact that the band only has a few good melodies to work with.

When a band starts stealing musical themes from itself, no matter how hard it tries to inject them with a dose of originality each time, you instantly know that group has a very rocky future.

To make matters worse, though the music is simply adequate, the words are even poorer. Even the better songs among the bunch suffer from uninspired lyrics that often don't fit the melody they've been grafted to. Take "Hologram," the first song on Some Truth & A Little Money. It has a beautiful piano opening, a guitar twanging away in full-blown surfer music style throughout and a killer drum beat. But all of this goes to waste as soon as lead singer Wooten-who possesses the misfortune of that same nasal, flat voice which afflicts far too many indie rockers these days-howls out the dreadfully terrible chorus, "Grab my guns/I'm in love again/Life is fun/I'm in charge again."

That's about as brilliant as it ever gets, folks. It's really a shame, too, since some of the music is decent enough that the album might have led a more successful life if it actually had something to say and a little more imagination.

So what, then, is the delightfully deluded band's opinion of its own work? Unsurprisingly, it's quite high. "The goal for our music," Wooten says, "is to create something people can come back to again and again-hopefully finding something new and vital each time." Funny, I don't recall finding anything particularly new or vital the first time.