I have, from time to time, bought a compact disc for the sole reason that it had a cool cover. And actually, this hit-or-miss method has worked out well for the most part.

But The Origin's latest album, Bend, gave me a reality check. Ooh, it looked so promising: the art-deco sleeve, the little red sticker fixed to it that listed the disc's highlights but also said, "The other songs on the album are really good, too."

And considering the coolness of The Origin's first self-titled album, I expected this thing to become a regular fixture in my compact disc player.

Let's just say I sold it back one week later.

Bend somehow falls short of The Origin's usual quality. The elements are all there: the strumming acoustic guitars, lots of piano melodies, Michael Andrew's mellow, subdued voice and lyrics about lost love, happy love, bitter love, no love.

But on this album they've added an organ, which instead of giving the songs a spooky, dreamy feel, reminds me more of rollerskating rinks and burly hockey fans roaring the cry "CHARGE!" Needless to say, the organ, which graces most every song on the album, gets a little old.

The Origin's first release, void of the aforementioned instrument, is full of upbeat melodies that hit sharply, the kinds of songs you'd feature on mixed tapes for your friends.

The Origin's music drifts happily in that gap between mainstream alternative-pop and the grind of MTV buzz-clips, where groups like The Trash Can Sinatras, The Connells and The Lilac Time strum lightly for limited audiences. Although no indication of their talent, it's a sound that somehow never gets past the college charts onto B-103.

But Bend just doesn't make it, void of songs that stand out and grab you -- songs like "Growing Old" from their first release, which could possibly be the catchiest song I've ever heard. Bend is instead a collection of, at best, background music.

Only a few songs on Bend are reminiscent of the band's past sounds. "Never Again," is a bitter tribute to a bad relationship. Crooning lines like "Roll yourself into a ball/climb into the armor of alcohol," Andrews relays the disappointments and realizations of love, and actually, there's no organ in this one.

In "Racing With the Moon," the roller-derby organ somehow works, and "Waiting" -- although not comparable to "November Days" or "Set Sails Free" from the first album -- does have its catchy moments.

But numbers like "Candymine," which drone on for eight minutes and 18 seconds, repeating the words "open, hopin', open, hopin'," made me jump up, yell "all right already!" and skip to the next track.

About the only thing Bend has over the first album, besides the cool cover, are the lyrics. With Bend, the lyrics seem a little more complex, verging on surreal. But I'll take, "This life is so ambitious, superstitious, most of all it's so malicious" backed by upbeat melodies over Bend's ambiguous and nondescript sound.

Buy The Origin's first release. But unless you become a die-hard fan or go to hockey games only for muscial enjoyment, leave Bend for the shelves.