'Helios'

In Homer’s “Odyssey,” Helios was the sun god whose island Odysseus and his men landed on after several years drifting at sea. In an audacious rebellion against their captain’s orders, the starving crew butchered and ate the sun god’s cattle, which earned them an awesome and catastrophic death from a divinely pissed-off Olympian.

“Helios” is also the name of the latest studio album by the Fray.

The Denver rockers are signed to the record label Epic, and you can note the obvious Homeric parallel because it is one of very few pleasurable ironies that one will find on “Helios.”

Like most everything else the Fray has done, “Helios” is neither audacious nor catastrophic because, unlike the crew in the “Odyssey,” it never ventures to go anywhere.

Perhaps this is why vocalist Isaac Slade is so confused when he sings “On the road to some place / Some place that we don’t know” on “Wherever This Goes,” a numbing march that marks time with a tambourine.

This is a step in the wrong direction for a band that, 10 years into its professional career, should have an idea of where it’s going by now, especially after managing earlier, bolder narration in something like “How To Save A Life.”

The lead single, “Love Don’t Die,” doesn’t fare much better, although it attempts to present an image of a catchier, more pop-oriented Fray. But spicing an upbeat and adding a chorus of claps only makes the tune sound like a half-hearted attempt to be current.

This is something the band has struggled with throughout their career. In 2004, by the time “How To Save A Life” was released, the pop rock world was dominated by moguls like Fall Out Boy, the Killers and Nickelback so popular that they have long since passed into parody. Snagging onto the pop/rock ballad trend while the going was good, the Fray lapped up the sentiment, modeled it on a theme by Coldplay, and churned it right back out in its generic debut album.

The difference between that first album and “Helios” is that Slade has pretty much dropped the piano. It’s a welcome change — the songs are a bit edgier, feelings aren’t quite so obviously on the sleeve — but it’s just not enough. “Hurricane,” flirting with distortion, electronic dance and a chorus of backup singers, is a splash in a kiddie pool compared to the musical redefinitions other bands have made this past year.

When artists grope for their sound on a debut album, cliché and false sentiment are to be expected. Ten years and four LPs later, when cliché has become the staple anchoring musical identity, a complete overhaul is necessary if the Fray doesn’t want a faceoff with obscurity.

“Helios” has no vocal authority, memorable melodies, or lyricism to boast of, relying upon its own musical tradition to float its 11 dismissible tracks.