When critics are at a loss for words, they often fall back on comparison. So-and-so sounds like so-and-so meets so-and-so. Sometimes it’s lazy, but oftentimes it helps paint a clearer picture for the audience. In this day and age, it seems that there’s little new under the musical sun, so no matter how original an artist sounds, most likely there’s going to be traces of those who came before. We’re going to call artists on this, and either applaud them for their homage, roast them as thieves, or more likely something in between. That’s what we do.

What immediately raises the red flags is when an artist tries to do our job for us. You’ve seen the record covers that say, “If you like [insert trendy band name], then you’ll love [insert poseur band name here].” I see it in press releases all the time, and I can’t help but wonder if these artists even attempted to stake out some new territory.

And sometimes, the comparisons reek of wishful thinking. Swedish duo AK von Malmborg and Mattias Olsson, who have released their debut Return to N.Y. under the name AK-Momo, sound less like Joanna Newsom-meets-Goldfrapp, an intriguing assertion by their label PR folks, and more like a paint-by-numbers, generic trip-hop act. Sure, von Malmborg’s childish voice is reminiscent of Newsom’s, but there is no quirky, folk lyricism. And there is next to none of the hot and bothered sex-infused production of Goldfrapp. Essentially, what AK-Momo has concocted goes down like a collection of scrapped demo B-sides from Protection-era Massive Attack.

This record was supposedly written and recorded in five days, which sounds about right. Most of the tracks feel rushed and unrealized. On lead-off track “Greasy Spoon”, von Malmborg sings dreamily over a crackly lo-fi beat and quiet symphonic synths. While not too original, it succeeds in creating a dreamy mood in its brief two and a half minutes. It would be a good tune if placed in the right context—as a simple, interim sleeper among more fleshed out songs. The title track, which follows, isn’t too bad either, with its groovy bossa nova backing smoky barroom vocals. While neither song is remarkable, they are unfortunately the best this record has to offer. Every track that follows is a lesser version of the track that precedes it. Crackly lo-fi in this case is only effective when used sparingly. As the album drones on, it slides from predictable to monotonous in an alarmingly short timeframe.

The beats are so muddled and forced into the background that they feel more like afterthought. All focus is on von Malmborg’s vocals, and while she begins the record with some decent melodies, she seems limited in what she’s capable of. This problem is commonplace in trip-hop, but most producers make up for it with stunning samples and beats you can feel as well as hear. Anything musically interesting on this release, however, is tossed by the wayside.

With beat and rhythm—the ultimate fuel for sex—lost in the void, it’s all on von Malmborg’s shoulders to bring some heat, which she fails at time and time again. The record’s only other redeeming track, “Only the Stars”, is almost sullied completely by the line, “I fucked you, and you fucked me”. Edginess is generally a good quality, but in music that relies heavily on mood, innuendo, and lyrical sensuality, such bluntness is a cold bucket of ice to the crotch. At best, it’s listenable weirdness. At worst, it’s discomforting.

In more up-beat genres, one can be more forgiving of repetition because volume and intensity alone can often sustain a full-length. Chill-out music, though, is all about invoking a mood. It’s for thinking and feeling, suited more for introspection than extroverted catharsis. It’s a lot more demanding of the personality, and thus those who listen to this sort of music are likely to be pickier about what they invest their time in. I predict that AK-Momo will be the proverbial last kid picked on the playground, if they even hang around that long. You just can’t paint by numbers and expect anyone to give you a second listen.