BEYONCE IS responsible for a number of things, most of them good, and not the least of which is making it cool to listen to big-budget mainstream music again. (The other point man in that movement would be the one who danced in her pretend video shoot on Saturday Night Live, complete with heels and small leotard.) Not only was she born with the kind voice that only finds its way to earth once every few decades, but she has an inborn glamour and class—like JT, a sense of command—that lesser stars lack. When the Pussycat Dolls purr, we can make jokes about poles and lip-syncing and insecurity. When Beyoncé calls, the world answers. (For example, sit back and marvel at the way “to the left, to the left,” made it into cultural vernacular, despite the fact that it made precious little sense.)

Beyoncé
I Am ... Sasha Fierce
Rating: 4.3/10
Sony, 2008

The good is really good. “If I Were A Boy” launches the soft side with a trademark Beyoncé not-sure-if-it’s-catchy complexity. Subtle instruments let her vigorous singing do most of the talking, which it does to wondrous effect—a perfect blend of power and control and one word (that three-note Celiney melisma when she sings “girl”) that prophesies future success in Wal-Mart long after the grillz have stopped gleamin’. But oh my are they still gleamin’ on “Single Ladies (Put a Ring On It),” which is a bopping, screaming-for-choreography variation on her first smash “Crazy in Love.” The men are all up on her as she shouts out to her lady friends, who respond in sassy harmonies, and then tells her jealous ex that if he liked it, he “shoulda put a ring on it.” Well-played, ladies.

But the rest is somewhere between a half-try and a mess, and every single bit of it sounds like a rehash of other people’s unimaginative tricks. “Halo” is one of the best, a synthy stratospheric ballad written by OneRepublic front man Ryan Tedder. But it’s too much like a OneRepublic song to stick in the memory: pretty melody, choppy, contrived percussion, towering clouds of synthesizers, and pretty stupid lyrics. “Satellites,” the ethereal acoustic lullaby that closes the “I Am” side, is decent but unremarkable. For Beyoncé, the techno-flavored “Radio” is boring. The moany, porny “Video Phone” is Kelis without her kink or sass. “Diva” is an indescribable monstrosity. And so it goes.

Maybe I’m just waiting for the sequel to Dangerously in Love, but it stands to reason that if we’re to listen to big pop music in the first place, it should at least have the basics—good beats, fun sounds, catchy melodies—down pat. Beyoncé deserves every bit of praise she’s gotten and more, but I Am … Sasha Fierce doesn’t make that as clear as it should.