(Independent Release) In case you missed the reference, local foursome Walden writes that its music is “inspired by transcendentalism and its figures such as Thoreau and Emerson.” Yet in contrast to the stark simplicity of its namesake work, the band actually seems more indebted to the overstuffed stadium-rock of U2.

“Canvas,” the opening track on Walden’s debut, Painting Planets, opens in grandiose fashion, synths swirling while a soaring melody comes into focus. “I’m not gonna hold a grudge/ But forgive the ones I love/ ‘Cause I can’t afford the time/ Time to be upset,” croons frontman Richard Becker.

The vaguely uplifting vibe persists throughout Painting Planets. Lush but limp, the album, put to tape at Atlanta’s Glow In the Dark Studios, sounds nice enough, but lacks motivation beyond “big is beautiful.” Coldplay-inspired songs like “Green Lights” feel hollow; the scope is ambitious, but there is little regard for content or context.

There are interesting, unexpected moments, like the snaking banjo part that guides “Canyon Call,” a mid-paced power-rocker, or the arena-country feel of closer “Gunfire.” But in the end, Painting Planets reveals little about the souls of the talented musicians beneath its slick surface.