ATELINE UK: POP IN CRISIS. There’s plenty of hand-wringing from the bubblegum-hearted amongst us at the moment, over the issues currently screwing up their preferred genre. From the record labels who can’t get three songs in a row playlisted by Radio 1, through to the teeny-bopper magazines who are forced to palm off Rooster on the kids as “pop” “totty,” through to my lovable naifs holding it down on the Blogger side of things (indeed, the blogosphere’s very own Molotov-Ribbentropp Pact betwixt the pop kidz and the urban-hipsters, united against the indie menace, recently collapsed into its own Operation Barbarossa, and few escape with their dignity), everyone has a problem. The cause of all this consternation? It’s not the songs, there’s a surfeit of decent tunes being handed up from production teams and 1980s popsters-turned-songwriters nearly hourly nowadays. Nope, the problem is the performers: too many charismatic songs for not enough charismatic pop stars. Which leads to the situation where the cream of the crop songwise is handed off to people like Rachel Stevens, a woman with all the engaging stage presence of the average junior minister for agriculture, or alternatively minor level concerns like Annie and Mania, who manage the same sales figures that perhaps, say, The Subways or Idlewild could chalk up in an off-week.

What it comes down to is that the UK has not produced any Proper Pop Stars since Girls Aloud, skintight of jean and high of heels, came stampeding onto the scene nearly three years ago. But hark! What comes yonder from the valleys of Wales, with a pair of tits, a celebrity boyfriend, a penchant for alcopops, and more beef than G Unit cooking Sunday lunch? Why, it’s former opera star turned enfant, if you will, terrible Charlotte Church, generally kicking up a stink, falling over pissed into taxis, and insulting every other pop star, model, and woman under the age of 75 in every interview she gets.

Charlotte Church is a Great Pop Star. Controversial, aspirational, human. She leaves more charisma at the bottom of her wine glass than Rachel Stevens could muster up in her entire career. And so she’s decided to quit the opera and make a go of the pop career full-time (remember that she’d already notched up a #3 single back in 2003 when she threw her vocal chops of Jurgen Vries’ “The Opera Song.” No, I haven’t thought about it for a second since then either). It should be the start of a beautiful career.

Instead, it’s the start of a career.

We were hoping for a sixth Girl Aloud. Instead we’ve got a second Louise. We wanted another minion of Xenomania, instead she’s tied her colours to the mast of Guy “What do you mean you don’t like World Party” Chambers.

First, the three good songs. “Crazy Chick” you all know, brought to you by the same Scandinavian pop boffin that brought us “Lovefool” (better known as “the best single of the 90s”) and “Take Me Out.” Whereas on first listen it feels like the kind of songs Estelle has failing to get anybody to care about since “1980,” the more you listen to it the more it feels like the UK “1 Thing,” a straightforward declaration of “Seriously, just shut the fuck up and dance” with added exuberance and nonsense. And a horn section that appear to have wandered into the wrong studio, but just go “Hey, what the hell” and join in anyway.

Then there’s “Moodswings (To Come At Me Like That),” based around a pacing around the bedroom piano loop, and a mid 90s alt-pop crossover feel. For a personality as big as Church’s, it’s bizarrely the only song on the album that comes across as meta-pop. But then you think “Wait, most teenage girls have moodswings and have been screwed over in their relationships.” And then you think “Hmm, wait, isn’t this just a song that was written for Amy Studt before she was dropped, and then glossed-up when the genre known as “Sister from “My Parents Are Aliens””-core died out?” It probably was, but it’s none the worse for it.

And then there’s “Let’s Be Alone,” where Chaz does an opera workout throwdown before playing it on the distorted vocals tip. Electro-madness reigns throughout the rest of the track, until your left with the feeling of Fischerspooner covering “Summer Sun” by Texas, just because they can.

The rest of it… it’s like a throwback to the days when people could actually make money off of singles so the albums for pop stars were just the three big songs and any old crap they could find hanging around the studio shoved on to fill in the space (this is how all albums on Shady are made. FACT).

It’s too ballady! For a woman was recently voted the #1 gay icon currently alive (knocking perennial Stylus favourite Bree Van De Kamp into second place), the album is a lot less “G.A.Y.” than it is “P.A.R.K.Y.” And for a woman who has strived so hard to put her public persona across as one of the fun-loving hedonistic spokeswoman for a new generation, filling the album up with Dido’s cast-offs isn’t going to win you any favours.

So then. Charlotte Chuch as a pop star is an undoubted A+. This album, on the other hand…