No one ever tells you how much work pop stardom is going to be. Oh, they tell you about the photo shoots and the interviews, the paparazzi and the fans, the music videos and the promotional tours. But no one tells you about the albums.

For some reason, your record company will want new product every two years or so, and that can be a huge hassle: you have to stop what you're doing and go into a studio and record enough stuff for a 70-minute CD. O.K., a 50-minute CD. That's what, 13 songs? O.K., 12, plus a remix. Still, that's a lot of singing — or if you're trying to remind listeners of your newfound maturity, a lot of moaning and whispering.

It's tempting to imagine that the new Britney Spears album, "In the Zone" (Jive), is a protest against this antiquated tradition. Throughout the disc, Ms. Spears sounds more dazed than zoned, as if making it clear that she's a less-than-willing participant. Her befuddlement becomes obvious within the first few seconds, when she whispers: "It's just me against the music. It's just me." Madonna pipes up to correct her, "And me." Ms. Spears responds, sounding a bit distracted, "Yeah."

This exchange introduces "Me Against the Music," Ms. Spears's duet with Madonna. It's an odd, overstuffed track, not so much a song as a series of party chants, and in his excellent "Desi Kulcha Remix," Rishi Rich eliminates the melody entirely, adding a clattering backbeat and what the liner notes describe as "Punjabi shouts." It's so frenetic you barely notice Ms. Spears and Madonna — it's odd to hear two such ubiquitous figures sounding so anonymous.

Maybe this, too, is part of Ms. Spears's subtle protest. Since singing seems not to be her main interest (or to be sure, strength), she lets the beats do most of the work. When she's not whispering or moaning, she's disfiguring her voice with electronic effects or hiding behind a pack of back-up singers.

Big-name guest stars add to the album's energetic incoherence. Moby produced "Early Mornin'," a tuneless ode to after-parties. The Atlanta rap duo Ying Yang Twins contribute "(I Got That) Boom Boom," a high-spirited club track enlivened by a snippet of banjo. There's "Shadow," a sweeping ballad by the Matrix, and "Outrageous," an R. Kelly composition that cruises along on autopilot for two minutes and then suddenly switches gears with a delectable Michael Jackson-inspired bridge.

All the while, Ms. Spears works hard to prove that she's hot-blooded, although she sounds colder than ever. The album is almost perversely devoid of personality — a final act of rebellion, perhaps, against the music industry. Ms. Spears will cobble together an album, if she absolutely has to, but don't think she's going to get all personal. That's what television specials are for.

There is precisely one great pop song on "In the Zone": it's called "Brave New Girl," it was produced by the team known as Brian and Josh, and for some reason, it's buried near the end of the album. Over a sharp, bubbly synthesizer beat, Ms. Spears raps a little bit and then sings a robo-voiced ode to the girl in the title. The chorus is a euphoric dose of pop empowerment, and when Ms. Spears asks, "Ain't it good to be a brave girl tonight?," it's possible to believe — just for a moment — that she knows what she's singing about.

By KELEFA SANNEH

On her new album, Britney Spears doesn't so much sing as heavy-breathe in rhythm.

On nearly every track of "In the Zone," in stores today, she sucks air deeply into her lungs, only to exhale it in self-conscious wheezes and huffs.

"It's so hot/I need air," she heaves at one point. "Boy don't stop/I'm halfway there."

But where exactly is she headed?

On the surface, Spears seems to be soft-porning her way through a CD meant to declare that, at nearly 22, she is finally ready to do all those things anyone of legal age can.

But the grooves paint her less as a credible devotee of hot sex than as a slave to molten ambition.

Certainly, she has hard sold this new image and music. Lately, she has appeared in every publication short of Field & Stream, and on every TV outlet outside of The Food Network.

Essentially, what Spears is doing is to rip off another page from "Madonna's Guide to Success Book," herbible of the last few years.

"In the Zone" sounds most like an updated version of the Material Girl's 1992 shockathon, "Erotica," minus its hints of danger and defiance.

It's a calculated, cold-sounding record, asserting "edginess," without the nose-thumbing character, or individual vocals, to carry it off.

To fill out Spears' color-by-numbers vision of erotic liberation, she sings about masturbation, being hung over and "outrageous" sex.

She also chose tracks that stress smacking rhythm and trance-like ambience, over fluid melody.

Ten out of the 12 numbers aim for the dance floor in the grinding spirit of earlier hits like "Slave 4 U." Two lone pop songs are tacked on to the end, almost as an afterthought.

Spears worked with a host of with-it producers, like Red Zone, Moby and The Matrix. They helped road-test some new genres for her - Southern crunk in "The Boom Boom Song," dub reggae in "Showdown," Asian orchestral music in "Touch of My Hand" and punk pop in "Brave New Girl."

But all we hear are those production effects and aural decoys meant to draw attention away from the cipher at the center.

Certainly, there's a rich and hallowed place in contemporary pop for singers with less-than-herculean voices. See: Janet Jackson and Madonna.

But Madonna sounds like Aretha Franklin compared to Spears when they face off in the single "Me Against the Music."

When Madonna acted out like this in her younger days, she was fired by genuine anger.

With Spears it seems like listening to Annette Funicello doing an impersonation of Anna Nicole Smith.

You can still hear her inner Mousketeer.

By Jim Farber, NY Daily News

happens to all Barbies at some point. The little girls who once idolized them grow up and lose interest, leaving them on the shelf as a reminder of quaint, pre-teen days gone by.

Seeking to avoid that fate with her fourth album, "In the Zone," Britney Spears is now in search of a new, edgier identity. But while trying to recapture fans who have moved on to newer, edgier pop stars — Pink, Avril Lavigne, even ex Justin Timberlake — Spears ends up sounding more juvenile than ever.

The former Queen of Teen Pop, who on her last album reminded us that she was "not yet a girl, not yet a woman," is going out of her way to show us she's all grown up. We've seen the 21-year-old Spears undressed so often, it's become shocking to see a clothed Britney.

Add her lip-lock with Madonna, cigarette smoking and tales of wild party escapades, and the former Mousekeeter seems to have turned into a Girl Gone Buck Wild.

"In the Zone," being released Tuesday by Jive Records, is a celebration of her newfound freedom and debauchery, with Spears sounding like a college freshman who's just discovered the party house on sorority row.

"Passed out on the couch and yawnin', just walked in and it's three in the mornin'" she coos on "Early Mornin'," while on "(I Got That) Boom Boom," the Ying Yang Twins shout, "We're going to the club to get crunk with Britney!"

Too bad it's not as fun listening to this album as making it.

Though there are a few entertaining parts, the majority of the disc is pretty insipid. That's not any different from any other Britney album, but with all the heavy hitters involved — including R. Kelly, Moby and Madonna — this time the disappointment is more of a surprise.

Part of the reason why the album fails is because for all her proclamations about being an adult, Spears still sounds like she hasn't grown up very much — emotionally, vocally and most importantly, artistically.

There are great, sensual, driving dance beats that pick up where 2001's "I'm a Slave 4 U," left off. But it's hard to get into the any of those grooves with Spears singing — or more accurately, whispering — like a little girl trying to act sexy. While Spears may not be the most talented singer, she still has some semblance of a voice, and comes off stronger when she tries to use it, like on the entrancing "Toxic" with its catchy string arrangement.

Instead, she resorts to moaning and heavy breathing on the bump-and-grind trance grooves "Breathe on Me" and "Touch of My Hand," a tender love story between a girl and her hand. The end result sounds artificial and forced.

But it's not always Spears' fault when the songs go bad. The R. Kelly-penned song "Outrageous" is outrageously silly. "Outrageous! My sex drive! Outrageous! My shopping spree! Outrageous! We're on a world tour!" Spears warbles, sounding like a "Saturday Night Live" parody, or maybe the theme song for Paris Hilton.

And Spears and Madonna generated more heat smooching on the MTV Awards than they do on the vapid "Me Against the Music," proving that simply throwing two superstars together isn't enough to make a hit.

There's also a sappy ballad, "Everytime," which is only worthwhile listening for tabloid fans playing pop psychologist, trying to discern if it's the epilogue of her much-dissected breakup with Timberlake.

Making the transition from teen star to adult performer is always a tricky adjustment, and plenty of singers have stumbled along the way — we need only look back to Christina Aguilera's embarrassing peep video "Dirrty" to be reminded of that.

But Spears seems unable to make the leap from child's play to adult fare. She seems stuck in Barbie mode, unable to morph into a three-dimensional artist with anything more to offer than pretty poses.

By NEKESA MUMBI MOODY, AP Music Writer

Britney Spears's fourth album, in stores today, celebrates the singer's evolution from lying virgin to certified nymphomaniac. Gone is the moral purgatory, the carefully scripted identity crisis, the titillating passage from childhood to womanhood that made her last album a model business plan. "In the Zone" is far simpler in content and execution. It's a sex show, set to lascivious grooves and heavy breathing. In fact Spears's new musical path -- all roads lead to orgasm -- requires a minimum of actual singing.

And tell the truth: Who wouldn't rather hear her moan?

The devil might argue that "In the Zone" is Spears's most revealing album so far: a techno-drenched, trance-laced tribute to growing up. But her delivery -- a stock catalog of clenched groans and pinched chirps -- is, as ever, so profoundly vacant it's impossible to believe that freedom makes her feel anything but numb. For all the steamy beats and juicy come-ons, that's how it makes us feel, too.

The opening track and first single, one of nine tunes co-written by Spears, neatly distills her current vantage point. Spears is up against the wall, careerwise, and the song's title -- "Me Against the Music" -- reveals an ugly outlook for a 21-year-old musician. The video for "Me Against the Music" features Spears's mentor Madonna in a sort of homoerotic dance-club drama, and it is meant to suggest a torchlike passing of the bustier. Indeed, the album's one genuinely provocative moment comes midway through the song, when Madonna sings, "Hey Britney, you say you want to lose control/Sexy lady, I'd rather see you bare your soul."

But it's a dare that Spears will never take. The song's appeal is rooted in the itchy rhythms and erogenous sonics of the production team RedZone, not the singer's anonymous purr. With a couple dozen or so co-writers and producers on board -- among them R. Kelly, Moby, and the Matrix -- these dance tracks could have been cooed by any pitch-adjusted pinup. "I don't wanna be a tease/Will you undo my zipper please?" she whispers on "Showdown," a Janet Jackson-esque track from producers Bloodshy and Avant. Banjos, giggling, and a gruff, vacuous groove make "(I Got That) Boom Boom," featuring the Atlanta rap duo Ying Yang Twins, a special treat "for all the Southern boys out there." Spears's slim, unpretty pipes are brought into unfortunate relief on the Matrix's pop behemoth "Shadow," the stern self-love anthem "Touch of My Hand," and "Toxic," a well-titled cascade of frantic, mechanized glissandos and dreadful canned strings that buries the album's coolest (only?) chorus under a joyless mass.

By comparison, Moby's "Early Mornin' " is a relief -- a hazy ode to passing out after a night spent "shakin' my ass in the streets." Spears sounds bored, blue, ready to crash. And who can blame her? It's been a busy night.

By By Joan Anderman, Boston Globe