Considering what's she's been through recently, no-one could blame Mariah Carey for being a bit down in the mouth. After all, not only did her last album Glitter and its accompanying film flop embarrassingly, her record company promptly paid $28m just to get rid of her. The knock-on effect was the end of a long-term relationship and a nervous breakdown from which the diva has only recently recovered. So will that make Charmbracelet Carey's version of In Utero, a harrowing sage of gloom and despair? Er, not quite. Instead we get the all-too-familiar Carey brand of sentimental soul and anodyne hip-hop, pleasant enough but ultimately completely forgettable. True, Carey remains an astonishing multi-octave singer, capable of hitting high notes that barely sound human. But a voice in itself isn't much use if its not backed up with a good song - and Charmbracelet just doesn't have very many of those. Moreover, with today's charts clogged up by young Carey imitators, her schmaltzy operatic formula is beginning to wear extremely thin. Sadly, without a dramatic change in direction, it's hard to see her as anything other than yesterday's woman.
