As I strive to find the proper words to describe Lloyd Dobler Effect’s self-titled album, I find myself at a loss. My fiancé defined the album as “folk alternative.” I figure if you throw in a slight tang of casino lounge music, then you’ll just about have it.

Oddly enough, I remember nothing about this album. I know I listened to it. I even recall putting it in the CD player. Still, I have absolutely no memory of it -- which leads me to choose just one single solitary lonesome adjective to describe the sounds of the Lloyd Dobler Effect: “forgettable.”

You know, it’s like that strangely talkative and rather creepy guy that sits down next to you in a bar with no warning or significance. He starts talking to you for no reason, but you never really listen to him. You don’t even bother to turn your face to actually see what he looks like. You put up with his driveling out of kindness, despite the fact that you want to yell “Would you shut the fuck up?” and repeatedly smash his face in with the nearest heavy object!

Alas, the unseen man continues to speak. Before you know it, the bar is closing up and you’re amazed at how quickly the night went by thanks to his incessant verbal diarrhea. And yet, you have no idea what he was talking about. The next day, you’re riding on an elevator and the same man starts talking to you about last night. You have no idea who he is, nor do you really care. You simply ignore him.

The Lloyd Dobler Effect is a lot like that.

Do like I should have done with this review, and skip it.