Whether it’s Africa, Black Sabbath’s Paranoid, a-ha's Take On Me, their hamfisted Billie Jean or (say it ain’t so) No Scrubs, every cover is unnecessary and pretty much unwanted. Cardigan-toting, alt-rock covering R&B was played out before it ever even happened.

Boring grooves that last a couple of minutes before ending abruptly just don’t cut it. What a letdown.

Even Linda Perry, Swizz Beatz, Nellee Hooper and the Neptunes have their share of duff tracks, and it appears that's all they had to offer when Stefani came calling.

Instead of moving forward with a bold new sound, they seem lost and confused, eventually reverting to the sprawling space rock jams of their early years, which may be their comfort zone.

The newest disc from the once-innovative Vancouver group assaults you with 18 contrived, lazy tracks. The best is a seven-year-old re-release, 'Red Dragon,' from when Moka Only gave this outfit some class.

Despite their brevity, the songs are repetitive, wanky and almost impossible to differentiate. They make you yearn for the days before genre cross-pollination.

The album wobbles between Timberlake-style sexy-time R&B, Bublé-light standards and flat attempts at sincere John Legend-type balladry.

In real snap-music fashion, everything's repeated to death over tinny, cellphone-tailored little synthesizer riffs with snares.

Lulu sinks to almost unimaginable lows.

There's nothing musically redeemable about My God Is Blue.

Not sure what's more embarrassing: the Good Charlotte/Atreyu sleaze rock take on Dr. Teeth's Night Life or the idea that this tribute's hope is to make adults want to feel like kids again. Either way, the whole thing deserves a Miss Piggy karate chop.