To me, Clarkson is not an artist, she’s a singer – and her vocal talents are indeed undeniable.

But her material is just so bland – I knew what this album sounded like before I even listened to it. It’s 14 tracks of bubblegum pop-rock.

It’s 14 tracks of Clarkson conveying herself as a pillar of self-reliance in the face of good-for-nothing men. Sure, the hooks are catchy and the guitars punchy, but everything is formulaic, right down to the cover art.

And it certainly is art, because her face has been airbrushed to within an inch of recognition.

Whereas Pink and Christina Aguilera at least attempt to be a bit interesting, Clarkson is perfectly content to be insipid – the lyric “Why are my convictions blinded by your spotlight?” is a case in point. I’m sure it will do well, but so does Britney Spears.

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