Dismal Dave

That's right, a big fat "F."

After dominating the college scene throughout most of the 1990s, the Dave Matthews Band was poised to head to Nirvana and Radiohead territory-to become the type of generation-defining act you tell your kids about. When a band like that releases a record this poor, it warrants a reaction that would normally be reserved for the most extreme musical mishaps.

I confess: I was once a die-hard, tape-trading, tour-following Davehead. True, that doesn't gel too well with my current indie-rock snobbery. But over the past two years, I've at least tried to make an amicable separation from the DMB, rather than completely disavow a body of music that, while stagnant and numbingly ubiquitous, is still superior to much of the mainstream. Everyday, however, sours my fond memories and the tentative peace I'd made with my embarrassingly unhip musical background. Listening to Everyday wasn't a blast from the past-it was painful.

Few albums get worse with every play, but Everyday's blatant mistakes only magnify with repeat exposure. My reaction morphed from disappointment to horror as I realized that those soaring melodies and playful quirks that had made DMB such a joy were gone for good.

The collapse begins immediately, with the band's first single "I Did It" rehashing "Too Much" with much less. At first, it's just mediocre, but immediately upon hearing Boyd Tinsley telling me "You got love, don't turn it down, turn it loud," I gagged as if cold tube cheese was poured down my throat.

It only gets worse from there. From the clumsy and lurching "When the World Ends" to the sappy and limp "If I Had It All" to the wimpy gospel of "Everyday" that butchers the old, simple fan fave "#36," Everyday sputters without aim or conviction. Songs that could have been exciting and fresh like "Fool To Think," "Dreams of Our Fathers" and "So Right" aren't allowed to breathe and are instead rigged with sugar-coated production from studio svengali Glen Ballard (of Alanis and Aerosmith fame) that sounds more like a mix of Peter Gabriel, Sting and bland '80s anthems than a refreshing mix of jazz and rock.

The final version of Everyday actually represents DMB's second attempt. Matthews introduced some great songs last summer like "Grey Street" and "Bartender," which ranked among his best work. But even respected producer Steve Lillywhite couldn't rescue those classics from the mediocre efforts they were recorded with, and the fledgling album was shelved. Then came hot shot Ballard, who commandeered the band with his own vision of a "new sound."

Change is good, but it can't be possible that Dave and the band are so out of touch that they would have made this album on their own. The group has more collective talent than most top-40 acts and their best moments have always been ensemble work. Aside from the fact that these songs were shat out in a mere 12 days, Everyday's most unforgivable offense is the elimination of the "B" in DMB. Leroi has one measly smacker of a solo, Carter Beauford is reduced to playing straight rock signatures (a waste comparable to using a Ferrari as a golf cart) and that "rap" by Boyd Tinsley in "I Did It" is his most noticeable nod on the album. Instead, Matthews' coarse and banal vocals are left way up in the mix, leaving him to spout inanities like "Mother father please explain to me / why our world's so full of mystery / a place so bitter and still so sweet / so beautiful and yet so full of sad sad." It might as well be a solo album.