Live, the pride and joy of York, Pa., emerge this week with a brand new

album, The Distance to Here, which doesn't sound markedly different

from their previous three.

This is good news for fans of Live's earnest strain of arena rock, but

will also provide no shortage of fodder for the detractors who find their

music overblown and their faux-spiritual lyrics self-important and drippy.

In other words, whatever your opinion of Live is, this new record is

unlikely to alter it.

Following the commercial disappointment of Secret Samadhi (1997),

the band returns to the formula that made 1994's Throwing Copper

a blockbuster — a steady diet of blustery anthems and big, fat ballads

for the masses.

The album packs few surprises — and isn't meant to.

Aquatically obsessed lead singer/songwriter Ed Kowalczyk is on familiar

terrain here. Just as one of the band's first hits was called "Pain Lies

on the Riverside," almost all the songs here seem to have something to

do with flowing like a river or being cleansed by a river ("Run to the

Water" [RealAudio

excerpt], "Where Fishes Go," "Feel the Quiet River Rage") or, of course,

listening to dolphins crying (the first single, "The Dolphin's Cry"

[RealAudio

excerpt]).

There's a big fish on the cover, as well.

"Voodoo Lady" [RealAudio

excerpt] (not to be confused with the Ween song of the same name

— Live are the anti-Ween) contains the line, "Water wasn't my style,"

but by the time we hear this, we already know it's not true.

The criticism that most consistently dogs Live — and the one this

disc will do nothing to deter — is not the band's thematic simplicity

but rather its humorless self-importance. In fact, Kowalczyk makes a

somewhat clever reference to his dour image in "Voodoo Lady," but the

song is so overblown that any winking humor is lost: "Relax, Ed," a voice

counsels in the background. He doesn't. U2 used to have this same

complex until they went the other direction and became so self-deprecating

you actually wished Bono would just shut up or start preaching about

human rights again.

The 13 songs on The Distance to Here range from agreeably midtempo

rockers complete with fist-pumping choruses to lush ballads designed for

maximum lighter waving ("Dance With You," "Run to the Water").

Jerry Harrison, who produced this album as well as Mental Jewelry

(1991) and Throwing Copper, used to be in Talking Heads, a band

as sly and understated as Live are lumbering and obvious; he gives the

songs the glossy commercial sheen they so deserve. (One can't help wondering

if it was the Heads' cover of Al Green's "Take Me to the River" that

brought the two camps together.)

To Live's credit, they have their populist, stadium-friendly style down

pat. So if you like your anthems loud and your subtlety nonexistent, this

album is for you.