Live Crafts Mantra on ‘Secret Samadhi’

Live’s relentlessly poppy hybrid of alternative and heartland rock made its 1994 album, “Throwing Copper,” a multi-platinum success. Its third collection offers the familiar crashing guitars, soaring choruses and U2-style drama, as well as the folksy introspection that struck a mainstream nerve with such hits as “Selling the Drama” and “I Alone.”

But the York, Pa., quartet takes its sound a step further on “Secret Samadhi,” perhaps in pursuit of what the Buddhist/Hindu term “samadhi” describes: a meditative state of total absorption preceding the path to enlightenment. Unfortunately, the overly meticulous crafting of both music and lyrics serves more to muddy the waters.

Songwriter Edward Kowalczyk is no doubt expressing honest feelings--it’s just hard to tell what he means through all the poetic vagueness. The eerie production is agreeably unsettling and does create a mood, but the touches of strings, sitar and organ feel like empty flourishes.

The more compelling tunes override this storm of sound and convey the yearning that’s the core of Live’s appeal: the bemused “Rattlesnake,” with its Mellencamp/R.E.M.-esque reflection on just how small a small town is, and the hallucinogenic anthem “Merica.” Perhaps Live should adopt a new mantra: Less is more.

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