There are so many things to potentially like about Pussy Cats, the Walkmen’s full-on cover of the 1974 Harry Nilsson album of the same name; it seems unfair to point out that it’s only marginally good. Especially since, on paper, it is a great idea: you get a great drinking band to cover a famously fucked-up album and, theoretically, something great happens. Instead, we get a decent-sounding, very hollow record.

I’ve got to give the band props on a few fronts. Even as Marcata Studio was about to be demolished, the band was able to make its home turf sound good. John Lennon produced the original, and I won’t say this one sounds as good as its inspiration, but the point seems to be more about a drunken good time than on pristine production values. Their take on Nilsson’s take on Jimmy Cliff’s “Many Rivers to Cross” is fine, and Leithauser manages the quick delivery of Nilsson’s own “All My Life” just fine. And it’s especially nice to hear the Walkmen, so often written off as dark and depressing, rip through goofy tracks like “Loop de Loop” and “Rock Around the Clock” with such obvious glee.

Still, there’s a basic question of why this album exists. Nilsson and Lennon recorded the original when the two were drinking buddies -- Lennon on his Lost Weekend and Nilsson still trying to follow up Nilsson Schmilsson. It was recorded fast and ugly, with Nilsson popping a vocal chord in the process. This is an album made by legends, in legendary circumstances, and with some legendary results. So now a young band goes back and recreates it very faithfully. Why?

It’s an interesting game of “what if,” because, I mean, think about it: who else would we want to do a full album cover? The Hold Steady taking on Let it Be (1970) could be mind-blowing. Can you imagine the awesomeness that would occur if the Shins suddenly decided that after Wincing the Night Away they should just do Sweetheart of the Rodeo (1968)? How about Neko Case doing Happy Woman Blues (1980) in its entirety? They might very well be cool, again theoretically, but with Pussy Cats, the Walkmen fail on two basic criteria. First, they don’t do anything new with the songs. Second, they’re covering an album that’s half covers to begin with. Sure, they love the album and want more people to know about it: admirable. But c’mon, why not just get rip-roarin’ drunk, bring in a bunch of friends, and make a legendary album of their own. Embrace the spirit of Pussy Cats rather than the note-for-note reality. Cover other songs, play Jonathan Fire*Eater tracks, play a new song or two: go crazy and make something that people will scratch their heads over. With Pussy Cats, all we get is a one-joke album from a cover band.

Coming off the most underrated album of their short career, the loss of their NYC lair, and the birth of some new children, one wonders how and when the Walkmen will be following this up. It’d be a shame to finish things off with such a misfire, and yet it’s not clear yet whether this is the end of the road for the band. If so, then cheers for three good albums. If not? C’mon boys: let’s put the car in gear and get back on track. You’ve got a new generation of drinking songs to write.