Think of The Thorns as a less famous version of The Traveling Wilburys, the supergroup Bob Dylan, George Harrison, Roy Orbison, Tom Petty and former ELO frontman Jeff Lynne formed in 1988. Instead of rock legends, The Thorns consist of some of the B list's best singer/songwriters: happy-go-lucky pop guy Matthew Sweet, underground rocker Pete Droge (best know for his 1994 single "If you don't love me, I'll kill myself") and folkster Shawn Mullins (pretty much only known for his 1998 hit "Lullabye").

What would happen if Matthew Sweet, Shawn Mullins and Pete Droge joined forces to rule the universe? If The Thorns' self-titled debut is any indication, the only result would be a band that sounds a whole lot like Journey.

Any group made up of established musicians is going to be compared to the Traveling Wilburys, the most successful rock supergroup in history. And that comparison isn't fair in most cases. Aside from their commercial success, the Wilburys all happened to be on parallel creative wavelengths. But there's one thing the Wilburys did correctly that The Thorns totally miss -- they had the sense to allow each of their vocalists to perform solo and, for the most part, only harmonized during refrains.

The Thorns opt to harmonize throughout their first album, and as a result they discard three of their most potent weapons: their individual voices. Gone is the earnestness of Sweet's voice, the droopy, world-weary wisdom of Mullins' and the Droge's rock frontman appeal. Every so often, on songs like "I Can't Remember," Sweet's higher, more nasal voice breaks free of Mullins and Droge. That's when the listener starts thinking "More than a feeliiiiiiiing...."

The overly sentimental lyrics don't help. There's no rasp on this album, no biting emotions. Instead, The Thorns pack tracks like "I Can't Remember" with the kind of soft regret that goes with meeting an old girlfriend for a drink a few years after the breakup. The line "I can't remember / A way to make you cry" sums up the extent of the band's angst. "Blue" shifts to the sort of anxiety that crops up when a high school reunion looms with the lyrics "Always thought I was someone / Turned out I was wrong."

The band's instrumentation reflects their sensitive, nice-guy lyrics. Aside from the song "Thorns," which has a driving, percussion-driven energy and the most electric guitar work on the album, tracks on "The Thorns" emphasize rock's gentler side. The light, acoustic guitar on "Runaway Feeling" is the musical equivalent of a hug from mom -- and it's comforting, and pleasant. But prepare yourself to be hugged by your mother throughout the rest of "The Thorns." Even the liner notes accentuate the album's earthy goodness. They're printed on some sort of rough parchment that smells like old issues of National Geographic.

There are a few tracks on which the band's unabashed lyrical and musical sentimentality works. "Runaway Feeling" treats the ear the same way "Wildflowers"-era Tom Petty did. "No Blue Sky" adds a violin element that compliments the band's sentiments nicely. And "Thorns" actually feels like a rock song; it's just a little bit raw and has the cojones the rest of the album lacks. "Long Sweet Summer Night" has a pleasantly epic feel. It's a dramatic ballad in an age when most bands are embarrassed to perform them, and that's nice in a way.

But still, The Thorns' debut is a disappointing one. Perhaps this band would be more appealing if it came out of nowhere, but since its members were all enjoy relatively successful solo careers there's the sense that Sweet, Mullins and Droge should have been able to do more with their collaboration. The three singer/songwriters dispense with their own styles and create a new one. Ultimately, the listener is left wishing they'd clung to their individuality a bit more firmly.