Sometimes it is a fine line between creating music that is honest and original versus music that treads the waters of mediocrity. Some bands can create their own unique sound that becomes their trademark but, inevitably, others will follow in their footsteps, cherry-picking the best or most commercially viable aspects of the music and recycling it under their name. Granted, no band these days is wholly original but there is a big difference between wearing your influences on your sleeve and imitating your heroes.

You may have guessed by now that London’s White Lies fall into the strain of band that waters down the brilliance of those who have come before them. To Lose My Life…, their debut album, is undoubtedly big in budget with a widescreen sound that sets them up as a potential stadium band, only a year since they played their first show as White Lies. The problem is that though they push all the buttons that will appeal to the masses, they show little personality or conviction to lead you to believe what Harry McVeigh is singing.

‘My Death’ begins like an Interpol song with throbbing bass and strings and it works sufficiently well until the synth stabs appear with chugging guitar and earnest words about ascending to heaven. “The sky set out like a pathway / But who decides which path we take / As people drift into a dream world”. ‘Fifty On Our Foreheads‘ comes across like The Mission and The Cure waltzing at a school disco and McVeigh can’t quite pull off the deep heavy voice that Ian Curtis mastered so well.

‘A Place To Hide‘, surprisingly not one of their first four singles, gives hope to the album. It doesn’t try to sink too deep and that keeps a lightness about it. Chiming guitars and a tight bassline underpin vocals that rest nicely on top. White Lies show some restraint and they build the song into a catchy chorus before the tumbling drums crash back in. It is their pop moment without the fake bluster and it works in the way the best Killers songs work, simple, rousing and infectious.

Elsewhere on the album the songs tend to pile on the pomp with Big Country guitars fighting for space in the music while McVeigh’s lyrics descend to high school poetry on ‘From The Stars‘ when he sings “He took a shower in the bathroom of his penthouse / Put the Do not Disturb on his door / When the maid came in the morning / She found him shivering on the bedroom floor”. The derivative nature of his voice ensures familiarity but it also forces you to play ‘pick the singer’ when he at various times sounds like Julian Cope, Tom Smith (Editors), Dave Gahan (Depeche Mode) and Tears For Fears in their less guitar driven songs.

White Lies have definitely produced an album that will see them reach the masses, especially in the UK. Outside England they will be hoping for success in the mold of The Killers but that may be a way off. They have the vision and hooks to do it but they first need to relax a little, loosen off the throttle and bring some of their own personalities into their songwriting. If they can do that then album #2 may be a more interesting proposition.