Mitch Rowland’s sophomore album, “Whistling Pie,” comes on the heels of years of work as a co-writer for Harry Styles. The album — which was released Friday — will be followed by only one concert, as opposed to the larger tour Rowland was planning. That’s probably for the best. 

The worst part of Rowland’s new album “Whistling Pie” is that it’s often hard to hear what Rowland is saying. The album is mixed in a way that is almost surely an artistic decision — but it doesn’t feel like the right one. This issue is a microcosm of the whole album, which seems to have confused emptiness with restraint. 

This issue isn’t entirely about the mixing. Rowland seems to have adopted a hushed vocal style that evokes contemporaries like Bruno Major, but Major is still able to enunciate clearly enough to get his point across. It also helps that Major’s songs are mixed to boost his vocals, but Rowland seems to keep his vocals lower than his instrumentals. 

This deadly combination between soft-spoken vocals and poor mixing makes it difficult — and sometimes impossible — to hear what Rowland is saying. 

The vocal issues don’t stop there. Rowland is not only soft-spoken but also unconfident in the way he sounds. There is an audibly half-hearted effort to sing higher on the album, and it’s unpleasant to listen to. This lack of vocal range is demonstrated once again in Rowland’s emotions while singing: he rarely sings with any feeling other than a vague melancholy or wistfulness. 

These emotions power the 13 songs on “Whistling Pie,” which also includes solid instrumentals produced by Rob Schnapf. The arrangements are sparse but nicely layered on top of each other, and the result is a clean and frictionless sound. 

At best, the instrumentals shape a cute and relaxing listen. At worst, the album is repetitive and sounds like the muted soundtrack of a coffee shop. Overall, the production of “Whistling Pie” is a bland series of sonic paintings that goes down smoothly.

The sound does occasionally wander off-course, though, like the rollicking guitar section on “Carry On With Your Tea,” which cuts against the album’s low-key feel to great effect. Still, there are some ill-advised choices here, like the baffling decision to rest a quiet song like “Do It For Real” on the back of an out-of-place drum machine. 

But again, this isn’t a bunch of instrumentals — it’s an album! Unfortunately, when we can hear Rowland, what he has to say is confusing. The titles for many of the songs are strange: names like “Really Ready,” “Nothing Is True,” “You Could (Be Good)” and the aforementioned “Carry On With Your Tea” make little sense even after listening to the songs themselves. One instrumental track is called “Carrot & Wine” for similarly unclear reasons. 

The hooks on “Whistling Pie” often play like a word search, like on “Really Ready,” the lead single: “Is this the real thing / Or is it too late / Loving is all you need / To know from me / Are you really ready.” I have no idea what the listener is supposed to be “really ready” for, exactly, after several listens. 

When Rowland’s lyrics don’t confuse, they simply wash over the listener. It’s hard to feel connected to Rowland’s relationship with fatherhood or his move to rural England. On an album where the instrumentals often blend, connecting with Rowland’s supposedly soul-baring lyrics is vital, but that connection isn’t there.

Still, there are some really nice tracks to be found on this album. “You Could (Be Good)” is a cute, encouraging song that could easily soundtrack a film about a down-on-their-luck, hopeless romantic. “Standard Size Knife” closes the album with a shockingly groovy and energetic flourish.

“Be Your Man” is a stirring love letter whose floaty and wistful hook serves as the best-case scenario for Rowland’s stripped-back style: “And I hate to see you cry / And I hate to say goodbye / And if time’s a stable hand / Oh I’d love to be your man.”

“Whistling Pie” is not a terrible album. It’s not horribly written or difficult to listen to, but it also doesn’t have a lot going for it. Instead of feeling like the secret code to Harry Styles’ success, Rowland’s work seems to be emblematic of one of the superstar’s biggest shortcomings — a belief that softer sounds magically make a song more meaningful. In other words, “Whistling Pie” is music unfit for a sushi restaurant.