This has presumably been a strange and exciting decade to be a member of Depeche Mode: Seven years during which dark, blustery electro-pop has come back as a mainstream force, especially in their native UK, and sometimes in exactly the terms they were supplying it 15 or 20 years ago. They've noticed this, surely. Perhaps it's why, after sidetracking into a minimal, techy sound on 2001's Exciter, they ran right back to blaring, grainy bombast on 2005's Playing the Angel. And perhaps it's why, after a solo debut that differentiated itself from DM by putting a guitar up front, singer Dave Gahan has veered back toward the drama you expect of him.

The problem is that while Hourglass has Gahan sounding a lot more assured and competent as a songwriter, it's also too much what you'd expect of him. Holed up in a New York studio with Depeche Mode's touring drummer and guitar player, he's constructed a Pro-Tooled set of dark rock grooves and electronic buzzing that won't shock anyone who's heard him or his band since, say, Songs of Faith and Devotion-- it's tasteful, professional, and as sophisticated as you'd expect from veterans. But it's also the kind of rote music that has very little purpose on its own. It's the kind that needs a very good singer-- and a very good songwriter-- to give it a reason to exist.

Gahan isn't that guy right now, and his presence here seems as rote as the music. He's addicted to the grand, prophetic register he's been singing in for years now, but he's not so good these days at making it seem like there's a reason for him to stay in that place. Lyrics about religion and self-doubt may be Depeche Mode's stock in trade, but none of them necessarily support the sinister breathing and chest-beating drama Gahan goes for-- drama that seems awfully routine here, like a product he's manufacturing.

It's a feeling that infects a lot of the tracks here, among which even the better ones can be too transparently professional, faultless but inessential. "Endless" looks to recapture the 00s with a minimized glam beat, the same T Rex shuffle that's put acts like Goldfrapp on the charts-- but Gahan seems to be copping his hook from Depeche Mode's "I Feel You", and all the sensual atmosphere he's pumping out feels more like branding than substance. The single, "Kingdom", sounds limp and listless, a big melody in a song that feels like it came out of a box. The tracks here that actually surprise-- the ones that take risks, jump out of the realm of expectations, or at least push Gahan's usual persona to the point of self-parody-- just wind up underlining the lack of spark in the songs around them. "Deeper and Deeper" is great precisely because it's so potentially embarrassing: Gahan is growling, play-acting a little monster, anteing up and putting something in the game. It's too rare of an occurrence here, and a little more of it would have provided much better context for the tracks-- "Down", "Miracles", "Saw Something"-- where Gahan does what Gahan does perfectly well.

It's possible to give albums like this a sense of risk and vigor, as proven just a couple months back by another 80s-alternative mainstay, someone Gahan has surely sat next to in a whole lot of record collections: Siouxsie Sioux burst out with exactly the same kind of deep, dark, guitars-and-electro solo pop record, and it was packed with all the verve this one's missing. I don't doubt that those who have followed Gahan and Depeche Mode for years will find things to like in Hourglass and enjoy hearing him continue to struggle with the topics he and his lyrics always do; he's eloquent and interesting, and I have no doubt that he's feeling every word and note here. But I'm guessing that for most, on this record, hearing Gahan feel it will be as exciting as watching any other professional perform the task he's a pro at, whether it's chopping down trees or rebuilding car engines.