By now, there’s no point in harping on Britney Spears’ inadequacy as a mother, obsession with Starbucks or disappointing performance at this year’s MTV Video Music Awards. We’ve heard it all before – every criticism of Spears’ personal life, from her choice in men (what, exactly, is Criss Angel’s appeal?) to footwear (retire the cowboy boots already!), but it’s unfortunate that on Blackout, we’ve heard it all before, too.

What could have been Spears’ successful comeback album, a spit in the face of every critic, trash-talking blogger or Chris Crocker-hater, is instead a synth-heavy, dialed-in mess – a laughable attempt at success that only shows how far Spears has fallen in the years since “Toxic.”

In 2003, Spears caused a stir with In the Zone, especially with the video for “Everytime” in 2004. The video for the ballad featured a cameo from bad-boy actor Stephen Dorff and, originally, a scene of Spears committing suicide in a hotel bathtub (down the street, not across the road). But the video was received so negatively that a new, cleaned-up version, with Spears drowning in a bathtub after suffering a head wound from an aggressive paparazzi photographer, premiered on MTV instead. No need to worry, though – the video ended with a shot of Spears resurfacing from the bathtub, laughing; apparently her death was all just a bad dream.

With Blackout, Spears tries to pull another reappearing act, using a mix of electronica-influenced dance tracks to define her fifth studio effort. But the album – which, according to a Jive Records spokesperson, is supposed to be about “blacking out negativity and embracing life” – comes off superficial and trivial at best. Spears was never a deep artist, but the flippant nature of Blackout is only a half-assed attempt at defiance. The bad dream isn’t over by a long shot.

The former Mrs. Federline, who started her career as a sassy teenage tart begging to be hit one more time, tried to show a suggestive, sexy side on In the Zone, and attempts to do so with Blackout as well. Songs such as “Get Naked (I Got a Plan)” thrust sexuality to the forefront, while others such as “Why Should I Be Sad” and “Piece of Me” take stabs at ex-husband Kevin Federline and the paparazzi, respectively. It’s too bad the kiss Spears shared with Madonna back in 2003 wasn’t a passing of the torch – it was a kiss of death, and Blackout proves it.

Blackout begins with “Gimme More,” the album’s first single. Now notorious for the “It’s Britney, bitch” line, the song is perfectly dance-able – and perfectly annoying. Lasting practically a full minute longer than it should, “Gimme More” redeems itself with a wonderful bassline and some equally enjoyable heavy breathing. But it’s sad when Blackout’s best track is a single that pales in comparison to Spears’ previous work, and even sadder when the video for the single features Britney violating a stripper pole and … nothing else of note.

Spears sounds like her old self on some tracks – “Ooh Ooh Baby” being one of them – but most of the time, singing isn’t exactly what Spears does on Blackout. Instead, it’s more of a half-talking, half-rapping sensibility that does disservice to Spears, who used to churn out chart-topping singles like none other. Of the album’s 12 tracks, only “Gimme More” stands out from the pack – every other song bleeds together into one overly long, over-produced trip. “Freakshow” is indiscernible from “Radar,” which is indiscernible from “Perfect Lover,” which is indiscernible from “Piece of Me.”

And the lyrics don’t help – every song is a testament to Spears’ (ill-suited) confidence, sex appeal and infamy. On “Freakshow,” Spears sings, “Don’t stop and let it flow/ Let your inhibitions go” and “Me and my girls like to get it on/ Grab us a couple boys to go,” while on “Get Naked,” Spears says, “Baby, I’m a freak and I don’t really give a damn/ I’m crazy as a motherf—-r/ Bet that on your man,” and “What I gotta do to get you to want my body?”

The trashiness of it all – lyrics that espouse unbridled sex, wild partying and recklessness – is somewhat distasteful when you consider that Spears isn’t just any 25-year-old. Instead, she’s a divorcée (not counting her annullment) with two young sons, and singing about how “Baby, I’m just hot for the taking/ Don’t you wanna see my body naked/ And I bet you like the way I shake it/ And I hope that you can take it” (from “Perfect Lover”) just doesn’t seem right.

On “Piece of Me,” thought to be the album’s second single, Spears tries to poke fun at her critics, singing, “I’m Miss American Dream since I was 17.” And she’s right – Spears will continue being the focus of media attention as long as she is embroiled in a nasty child custody suit with Federline, bombs onstage as she did at the VMAs or runs over paparazzi. People will care about her crazy antics, not her music – and as Blackout proves, they’re not missing much.

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RATING: 1 star out of 5