“Don’t you forget about me,” goes one line from the debut self-titled album by Jungle, an electronic soul duo from London. But, I assure you, there is little on this full-length worth remembering.

Jungle debuted with a veil of mystery surrounding it. The musicians were touted as two friends named J and T, but on stage the band transforms into a seven-piece. The two producers, later revealed as Josh Lloyd-Watson and Tom McFarland, try to thrive off the recent string of other mysterious producers and musicians. But they come off as a gimmick, if you ask me.

The difference is that Jungle’s music doesn’t lend itself to anonymity, unlike that from Burial or How To Dress Well. Still, the group tried to veil itself to some extent with a series of 7-inch vinyl releases featuring a cast of various characters on the front covers. Maybe this would have been easier to take seriously if they had waited more than a year to reveal their identity.

The music itself is extremely bland and unoriginal. The production is fine, but it’s nothing to write home about. Others, like Rudimental and Tensnake, did a better job capturing the minds of listeners with pop-infused electronic music. But Jungle’s tracks blur together such that none stands out as a lead single.

The biggest letdown on this album is the vocals. The crooning on the record is often layered, and the two voices muddle each other’s sound. The singers harmonize often, but their fragile falsettos feel forced. Given the robust nature of the production, the thinness of the vocals is jarring. Jungle does deserve credit, however, for not copping out with a rotating cast of featured vocalists.

The album could have been saved by sparser production. Simpler, emptier moments would have brought better pacing to an album that plateaus rapidly. What’s more, the vocals feel emotionless because they’re either looped or played back repeatedly. Had the vocals been stripped from two to one, “Jungle” would have galloped along rather than drag itself from one end to the next.

There’s nothing glaringly bad about Jungle’s full-length debut. It simply fails to offer something memorable. Given a recent surge of electronic influence on soul and R&B, Jungle falls flat in a crowded arena. Your time likely would be better spent with new music from How To Dress Well, Yumi Zouma or Sylvan Esso.

Jungle might have captured the minds of more than a million people on Youtube with its aesthetically pleasing videos, but it’s a shame the music doesn’t have the same draw.