Adam Green’s latest album can be summed up in two words: underwhelming and overloaded. Sixes & Sevens, Green’s fifth solo album, manages to pack 20 tracks into less than 50 minutes, and while I’m normally in favor of sweet and succinct pop tunes, there’s a slight problem with Green’s plan: the majority of the tracks make me want to light my stereo on fire and throw it off a cliff.

Perhaps it’s just the inevitable process of time taking its toll. On tracks such as “Morning After Midnight” the 26-year-old Green (one half of the Moldy Peaches) sounds as if he were a 45-year old crooner on the Reno circuit trying to work his way into the Las Vegas big-time. On certain cuts, like the opening tracks “Festival Song” and “Tropical Island,” Green transforms into a B-grade member of Jimmy Buffett’s Coral Reefer Band. However, what is genuinely terrifying is Green’s Tom Waits impression on “Sticky Ricki,” in which he drawls out, “Ricki, why so sticky? Why so affixed to every silly dancing man?”

Soulful back-up singers and horns make up the majority of the tracks on the album, and while this almost creates a sense of cohesiveness, these motifs also fall into the trap of stodgy complacency. The good old days of big bands and doo-wop, this is not.

The main problem with Sixes & Sevens is that it includes far too much filler and far too few gems. Green attempts to fit a whole slew of divergent styles into the album, and they just don’t mesh. It’s as if he took a bunch of non-singles from ten years of musical (de)evolution and packaged them together.

If this album is the result of what happens when you grow up, I want to stay young forever.