Lights and Sounds Yellowcard (Capitol Records) It's tempting to write this album off; give Yellowcard the red card as it were - and not just for the purposes of editorial smartartistry; slickly produced 'punk' made for MTV will always jar when heard through these jaded ears. But perhaps a red is a bit harsh. Lights ... is the sound of a band trying to grow in the wake of unexpected success - previous album Ocean Drive has sold 2.5 million copies - but being too cautious to pull it off. You've got the muscular emo ones ('he-mo', has that been coined yet?), such as the title track, which, as it revs up, contains the only real moment of exhilaration on the disc. Then you've got your dirgey, heartfelt ones (City of Devils, Martin Sheen or JFK), most of which sound like a pop-punk Keane - and are as unappetising as that implies. That singer Ryan Key's voice is non-descript doesn't help; rendering the likes of Two Weeks from Twenty, which is otherwise an early Squeeze number without the wit, forgettable. In promotional material, the band trumpets their use of a violin - an extraordinary instrument in this kind of set-up, we're told - but, when it comes to the crunch, they ensure it plays second-fiddle to the regular guitar and bass, disappearing in the mix on all but the most turgid tracks; a trick repeated with the bulk of a 25-piece orchestra on How I Go. The record begins and ends on a strange note; with a 'lush string' piece (Three Flights Up) that has surely been lifted wholesale from that 'Big Big Girl in a Big Big World' song you couldn't escape from a year or two back. Maybe it's an in-joke. Perhaps not a red card, then, but certainly a yellow for lack of artistic achievement, although Lights and Sounds will probably score big with the kids, meaning, as far as Capitol and its accountants are concerned, Yellowcard will have played a blinder with this one.