Caleb makes his O face. Now you can never unsee that.

It seems that Science has decreed that you must pick a side in this battle: either you like Kings of Leon now that they're proper megastars, or you liked Kings of Leon before they got a bit rubbish but  now can't hear "Use Somebody" without feeling an odd compunction to murder a fellow with some scissors. I'm hesitant to lump myself fully in with the latter camp, but must confess that I found the blatant pop-charty strides that dominated parts of Only By The Night quite offensive to my delicate ears, and infinitely preferred the Kings back when they were more hair than man, and were fronted by unpopular comedian Glen Wool, but that's probably just me lying because I love silly moustaches when I actually think "Knocked Up" is the best thing the Kings will ever write.

If you're the kind of hideous creature who buys into ridiculous notions like "indy cred" (yes, I'm talking to you, with the silly hair and the tight trousers. No, don't look at me like that, I'm not going to humour you by listening to your favourite Vampire Weekend song. No, you most certainly can not send me your demo CD. Now shoo, I'm in the middle of something) you might say that, in years to come, we'll look back at Come Around Sundown as the point where Kings of Leon had choose whether they were pop stars or "proper musicians". I've got good news, and somewhat predictably, bad news.

Good news: they've chosen not to be pop stars, although I'm not sure if they actually made that choice knowingly.

Bad news: they've done this by releasing what seems to be a collection of b-sides from their last two albums. Which isn't necessarily to say they're bad songs, but considering their growing reputation as one of the laziest and least friendly rock groups around, it might have been nice to see a little bit of effort put in here.

Nathan, noticing an unsettling, winged fluttering somewhere right of stage.

But wait! I'm not being entirely fair, and now I'm breaking out in hives because of it, so I should set the record straight. They've put in exactly "a little bit of effort". Just enough effort to make Come Around Sundown a servicable album, with precisely one stand-out track, and two or three rather nice highlights, and then a lot of what seems to be "Generic Kings of Leon Song 37" these years, and without spending a single second longer than absolutely necessary on it. Tsk, eh? They were probably afear'd of the pigeons nesting outside the studio, or something similarly topical and witty.

It's simply impossible to avoid the fact that most of the thirteen tracks presented on the album sound like a cross between "Ragoo", "Revelry" and "Arizona". "Arizona" was a fantastic track thirteen, but it's not such a strong thirteen tracks, if you follow(ill). So "Pickup Truck", this album's track thirteen, is an ostensibily splendid closer, but then the deja vu sets in, and you realise that it's the same finish they gave Only By The Night with "Cold Desert" and Because of the Times, and its lustre becomes somewhat diminished. They hit upon a formula on BotT, and its stretched to breaking point here.

On the bright side, if you found yourself assaulted from all sides by the huge chorus of "Sex on Fire", you may be pleased to discover that there's no refrain so inescapably huge or memorable on offer here. On the cunningly contrasting downside, it means the generally unspectacular, forgettable songwriting becomes even more noticable, and even after a good fortnight, I'd be hard pushed to name any more than four of the thirteen songs. This is A Problem.

It looks like the promo shot for a new E4 sitcom. It is not.

Inarguably the album's best track is the utterly gorgeous "Back Down South", an old fashioned Tennessee romp, complete with fiddles and obligatory "Yee-haw!", except without the "Yee-haw!" and with more encouragingly unhurried grace. It's as close as the band has come in recent years to their supposed roots (ie, southern mainstays like the paradoxically Canadian The Band and similar country touchstones), and stands out a country mile because of it. (Clever wording, I acknowledge.) If people tended to be a little brighter, and the Followills tended to be a little less frowny, this would be the lead single, rather than the vexingly bland "Radioactive".

Not reaching quite the same lofty, rarefied heights, but certainly worthy of mention, are "Mary" (which is a pleasingly 50s-tinged dancehall song, boasting some splendid vocals and a rollicking guitar solo, and almost certainly the second best song entitled "Mary" of this young millennium, craftily bested by the Scissor Sisters several years prior) and "No Money" (which is q. similar to "McFearless", but benefits from a great second half where they simply power the remaining 90 seconds on a tremendous droning riff).

As ever, the rhythm section is far more inventive than the songwriting would seem to allow, with stuttering beats and melodic basslines in abundance. Unfortunately, they're supporting songs which refuse to linger in the memory for any amount of time, or sometimes, seem to linger, then you realise you're actually remembering a song from a previous album which sounds confusingly similar, and a-ha! the cads, they've not put much effort into this at all, have they?

No, they have not. Which means that while this isn't the teen-chasing chart-topper you fear it might have been following on from Only By The Night, it's not a great album either, settling for clinging lazily to mediocrity's mighty beard. Just download the empeethree of "Back Down South" from the illegal source of your choice and leave the Kings alone to think about what they've done.

Al Byrne