Within the happily stagnant realm of contemporary pop-punk, there are two sure-fire ways to deviate to the point of novelty: 1) Cover kitschy songs (TV theme songs seem to be the most perennial of the favorites) 2) Drop the electric guitars, retain the power-chords, and go acoustic. The former can only can be taken at face value; there's not anything seriously artistic in singing, "Where the kisses are hers and hers and his/ Three's company, too" over a punchy stop-start guitar riff. The latter, though, seems to demand seriousness from both the artists and the listeners. Without their frenetic drums or their amps cranked up, the boys of pop-punk turn reflective and aim for being downright deep.

Anyone that's heard Davey Von Bohlen's Vermont project knows that the move to acoustic-based material tends to be ill-advised. Soft music played by what we're supposed to believe are "hard guys" is easily likened to watching "Springer" in its post-fist-fighting incarnation. It is, in a word, pointless.

The New Amsterdams is the Get Up Kids' Matthew Pryor unplugged. And the heavily "emotional" tone of Never You Mind isn't a far cry from typical Kids fare as that band's sound has much more to do with punk than hardcore, and much more to do with pop than either of those. To be fair, this record is a bit more credible than expected, as it reveals this transition to be a mostly natural and organic process. The New Amsterdams are simply not as god-awful as they could be, regarding the circumstances.

Love 'em or hate 'em (and if you're browsing the Pitchfork, chances are you fall into the latter group), it's undeniable that the Get Up Kids revel in three-chord catchiness. The solo-acoustic opener, "Every Double Life," is as catchy as the Kids' best, and perhaps even slightly better due to its stripped-down, no-bullshit approach. "Proceed with Caution" bares the most infectious melody Never You Mind can lay claim to, though after the solo-acoustic intro, bass and drums ring in, turning the song into banal, commercial alternative filler.

Pryor's voice is convincing enough to portray him as a wounded young man, and his brand of restrained catharsis is more palatable than the expected whiny angst. Still, it's hard to sympathize with someone who strings lyrics out of cliches into gaudy, faux-pearl necklaces of songs. "Idaho" is a prime example of Pryor's full-on audacity. He has the nerve to sing, "Old friends and lovers/ Turning to blows/ Cry me a river/ If you're misunderstood/ For all ever after/ I knew that you would." The song's triteness is emblematic of the lyrical style that plagues the album. Attempts at metaphor and imagery like "I'm passing through the atmosphere like smoke" in the musically sound "I Won't Run Away," are too laughable to incite sympathy to the seemingly sensitive boy.

The trio of "Make Me Change My Mind," "When We Two Parted" (an Afghan Wigs cover), and "Never Treat Others" represent the absolute low point of Never You Mind. The three tracks serve as an "experiment" with alt-country to which the term "heavy-handed" simply does not bring justice. If the stretch from electric to acoustic isn't entirely contrived, this bit of dabbling is, and puts the record over the threshold of human endurance.

Never You Mind is no catastrophe, though. For the most part, it's a mediocre, rarely pleasant 30 minutes bereft of insight that ultimately does much to demolish the boast of the Get Up Kids' last album title. In simpler terms, it's nothing to write home about.

-Richard M. Juzwiak