The Lashes do not, despite their album’s title, “get it.” They thought they had all the pieces of the puzzle to a hip indie band — trendy haircuts, thrift store clothes and that crucial band name (you know, the one that starts with a “the,” followed by some clever noun or verb). But all the hard work they put into squeezing into those jeans would have been better spent on the music.

The 12-track record, coming in just shy of 30 minutes, finds the Seattle group meandering through dull melodies, the same goddamn guitar chords, and lyrics that could have been written by a 9-year-old (“Sometimes the sun goes down / Sometimes it goes back up”). Even the lead singer, Ben Clark, sings in an unemotional drone, as if he knows he’s just going through the motions.

In trying to appeal to the same fan base responsible for Fall Out Boy’s radio ubiquity, the Lashes still don’t quite get it: Their drummer sounds excruciatingly bored and grossly underused; the teenage angst to go along with the whiny lyrics is nonexistent; and the tracks aren’t even danceable, the one redeeming quality that might have saved them from fading into hipster oblivion.

Most likely, the Lashes were picked up by Columbia because they’re unthreatening to any demographic — that is, except to those people that enjoy interesting music.