Lifehouse

Lifehouse is one of those bands we couldn’t pick out of a police lineup, yet somehow half their catalog is instantly familiar when it comes on the radio. Their stock-in-trade until now has been vaguely inspirational post-grunge anthems that rarely rocked hard enough to upset soccer moms. For their third album, though, they’ve actually turned down the volume. It’s not a terrible idea: Rather than be ashamed of their soft, corny side, they embrace it. “You and Me” is a string-draped acoustic love ballad that would sound appropriate soundtracking some Drew Barrymore romantic comedy. Frontman Jason Wade sings in a smoothly scarred baritone that will make Pete Yorn fans wobbly-kneed, but the songs often hew too closely to formula. “Blind” picks up the pace a little, but only in order to build some momentum for a soaring chorus that, by the time it comes, seems a little too inevitable. It’s pleasant stuff, no doubt, just maybe a little too pleasant.