Put away the poppers -- the Pet Shop Boys have lost their irony. On their eighth album, you won't find any Go West-style circuit anthems. Instead, the disc sticks to slightly droning, somnolent songs that verge on cheesy prefab boy-band ballads. Neil Tennant's Morrisseyesque voice is pleasant, and the first track has some neat upbeat Every Breath You Take moments. But other stuff is just too damn earnest. Alas, the Boys have become those boring, albeit well-dressed, gay men who populate NBC sitcoms. Even the photos on the disc sleeve are Mapplethorpe flower knock-offs.