In America, everything is for sale, and culture has always been a hot commodity. Most people would like to think that they are cultured and refined, no matter how white-bread they actually are, like that guy everyone knows who swears he likes jazz because he has Kenny G’s Christmas album buried in a box in the attic.

So it comes with no surprise that profit-hungry record labels are chomping at the bit to sign artists like Bilal and India Arie. Sure, we’ve seen their type of neo-bohemian before — Erykah, Amel, D’Angelo and Jill have all trod on this turf. But here are yet another pair of artists offering to condense three or four decades of rock, soul, jazz and Black pride into an hour-long platter, and for a measly 15 bucks, it’s tough to resist.

“First Born Second,” the long-awaited debut of Bilal Oliver of the tightly knit Soulquarians collective, is an unfortunate case of the whole being less than the sum of its parts. Ahmir “Questlove” Thompson of the Roots and James Poyser, the producers of D’Angelo’s ultra-potent “Voodoo,” are behind the boards on Bilal’s first effort as well, but all their coddling can’t seem to help his anemic songwriting. “First Born Second” is packed full of good ideas, but the Berklee-trained Bilal seems to be aiming for angular and hitting scatter-brained instead.

“Sometimes,” the worst victim of his short attention span, begins with a ambient, dub-influenced intro that whets the appetite, despite sounding a bit too much like Mos Def’s “Umi Said.” “This is a song that makes me spill out all my guts,” he sings right as the song hits a hard left, veering into the Fender Rhodes neighborhood, a part of town D’Angelo often frequents. Then he spouts off an angry salvo at an ex-lover that sounds almost too personal for mass consumption, but is hardly interesting enough to warrant the song’s seven-minute length.

Bilal’s lyrics have a tendency to favor candor over poeticism, which causes some occasional awkwardness. Nonetheless, “Your Love Sent to Me,” starts promisingly enough, featuring his modest tenor over a pretty keyboard. Soon enough though, he spikes his own punch with a boring hook and a worse guitar solo.

These, of course, are only the ballads. The uptempo tunes are even less fulfilling, like the leaden, funk-rock rave-up “Way Back to You” and the reggae-tinged “Home Is Where I Wanna Be.” For those who thought the single “Soul Sista” was to neo-soul as a virgin margarita is to alcohol, I’m sorry to say that’s as good as it gets.

India Arie fares much better on her debut, “Acoustic Soul,” mostly because her sound is unique and refreshing, but you won’t see the sweat on her brow. The lead-off single, “Video,” is positively infectious with its simple guitar riff and hand claps, but it’s a bit of a Trojan horse. The remainder of “Acoustic Soul” is just as enjoyable, but where “Video” would fit comfortably on most radio playlists, Arie’s other songs are the type of rock-soul hybrids that make marketing departments and DJs throw their arms up in frustration.

“Promises” and “Beautiful” are stark, simple guitar gems, reminiscent of Joan Armatrading if she had listened to less Joni Mitchell and more Stax 45s. Arie seems most influenced by Stevie Wonder, even going so far as to dedicate the reverent “Wonderful” to him. “You are the sunshine of my life/ Another Shakespeare of your time,” she sings over a propulsive bass line. Elsewhere, on the uplifting “Strength, Courage & Wisdom,” she flirts with a chord progression similar to that of Stevie’s “Visions.”

Just like Stevie, India Arie is just as strong with ballads as she is with uptempo tracks, as evidenced on the heart-wrenching “Ready for Love,” a yearning confession that most anyone who listens to it will relate to in some fashion. “Acoustic Soul” is another set of giant steps, and should prove to be one of the most impressive debuts, if not albums, of the year.

“First Born Second” goes awry, but “Acoustic Soul” serves as proof that there is not necessarily anything wrong with buying culture. The key is to be selective about the person in the trench coat you buy it from.