Like Mayer gone wrong, Barnes bores

Dave Barnes’ Me + You + The World is the album that your mom – oh, sorry, I mean Santa -… Dave Barnes’ Me + You + The World is the album that your mom – oh, sorry, I mean Santa – bought you for Christmas. You thought to yourself, “Sweet, a real CD, maybe a little John Mayer-type chill-out mix.” But then you listened to it. After about a minute you decided that you don’t like it, but for the benefit of Santa, you listened for the rest of the album. Then you scratched out your ears, took out the blowtorch and lit up the Christmas tree, yelling, “Damn it, Santa! Next time bring me underwear!”

Me + You + The World Dave Barnes Razor and Tie Rocks like: a bad John Mayer

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Barnes’ style is a fusion of bland, Christian pop and John Mayer. He blends in some nice harmonies in a few gospel-esque tracks, but his lyrics are so preachy that no amount of soul can engage the audience.

Before we get into how terrible these tracks are, let’s discuss the pretentiousness of this Tennessee turkey. In his biography, Barnes dares to compare himself to one of the most influential characters of our literary generation: Harry Potter. Furthermore, he speaks as if he owns a lyrics license, some sort of degree that assures his ability to compose sensible songs. Then, he has the audacity to insinuate that the only reason that iTunes is carrying his bonus track is because Barnes “loves ya.” I’m sure it’s just love that is filling your pockets with royalty revenues.

I am positive that Barnes put 126 words in a hat and plucked them out for “Believe.” Instead of wailing “chances are, four could turn to three, that’s one less than this was meant to be,” he could have just said that the girl should not have broken up with him. It would have saved us all a lot of trouble. That’s Barnes’ biggest problem: He is not a poet, and his lyrics show it.

After this album, Barnes should give just up and stick to church choir. That’s where his real skills lie. In the one gospel song on the album, “Carry Me Through,” I enjoy his soulful recreation of Sunday service. A religious sermon is expected in a gospel medium – that is partially why you listen to gospel music. Herein lies the problem of the record. Barnes wants to be both a mainstream pop-rock artist while balancing overly preachy, childish lyrics. This is the album John Mayer may have put out in third-grade Bible study.

In “10,000,” Barnes tries to tie his missionary work in Africa to his musical genius. He discusses his “house full of possessions” and a feeling of guilt and shame for the poverty of children around the world. The song sounds like a cheap knock-off of “Life Support” from the musical “Rent,” with its acoustic picking providing a soft background for vocals. The ideas in the song seem good – “Hey look, give some time, money, energy to decreasing poverty.” Something, though, is missing.

It doesn’t matter if it is on an urban street corner or on a CD – stop making hollow and vague, hopeful promises in your hollow, vague music.