THE FOUR members of The Fray couldn’t really get any more Christian. They’re former Christian college students, churchgoers and worship leaders. They grew up listening to Steven Curtis Chapman and dc Talk. They spend the nights of their rock star lives hanging at the hotel with their wives. But somehow, as a local favorite in Denver, they saw the light at a crucial moment in Christian music history, and decided to avoid Christian record labels. (Lead singer Isaac Slade: “This is my job. We’re not pastors. We’re not preachers. We’re not even missionaries.”) And that decision made them the textbook example of the “new” Christian band, propelling them to Christian superstardom faster than an INO record deal ever would have.

The Fray
The Fray
Rating: 3.9/10
Epic/INO, 2009

After three years promoting the last album, their return signals peace with this double life: The Fray was released simultaneously by Epic and INO, and the lead single is loaded with enough evangelical code language to ensure approval in all markets. The music is just as calculated, inoffensive, and forgettable. The record shows I have no objection to music that’s decidedly mainstream, but the Fray’s problem isn’t that their name is all over New York City taxis when they’ve only produced two hits. The issue, I’m afraid, is that they were never terribly talented in the first place, and even a bottomless budget and nationwide promotional blitz can’t cover that up.

The opening line of the coyly-titled “You Found Me” forecasts the lukewarm temperatures and tepid rainfall on this boulevard of broken dreams: “I found God on the corner of First and Amistad.” It sounds snappy enough, until it dissolves into milk-and-water spirituality that waffles between dejection and redemption. (The chorus is all about the titular event, but later we hear that “the call never came” and “everyone ends up alone.” Well, which is it?) Despite its contradictions and stockpiled angst (“lost and insecure!”), “You Found Me” is one of the better pieces here, with the closest thing to a memorable melody we’re going to get.

Elsewhere, the shadows have deepened since How to Save a Life, with a few more minor keys and lot fewer hooks dragging out the detached, focus-grouped forlornness. It’s the CCM formula without the Jesus: pre-bottled concoctions (strings, astral guitar strumming) slathered on to enliven a fatally soulless mix (see “Never Say Never,” the most blatant offenders on these counts). Slade’s voice—a smoky, average-guy tenor that’s equal parts Dan Layus and John Rzeznik—is pleasant, but only adds to the climate of lethargy and disinterest. Only at the writhing climax of “Say When” does he show he can do more than sing like he’s lying down.

Considering the mass appeal of this sort of mid-tempo fare, there’s no way the Fray are going away. They might even stick around long enough to have a love-‘em-or-hate-‘em stature like the Goo Goo Dolls. (Though a better comparison would be the relentlessly unimaginative, inexplicably popular Matchbox 20). But The Fray leaves little doubt that we’re never going to hear much genuine inspiration from their corner of the market. There’s more passion and creative energy to be found on a OneRepublic album. It’s a shame that such down-to-earth, earnest guys can’t do more to make us feel alive.

Correction, February 7, 2009: This article originally stated that Isaac Slade sings “Ungodly Hour.” The song is performed by Joe King.