Kelly Clarkson, now eight albums deep into her career with her newest album, “Meaning of Life,” remains a formidable vocalist with a sonic range that generally goes unmatched, save for a handful of music industry giants. Unlike previous projects, which were built heavily on rock influences, “Meaning of Life” contains many aspects of R&B and soul, while taking on the big band, choral, and jazzy fanfare aesthetic that several artists have been incorporating into their music this year, such as Macklemore, Pink, and Kesha, in recent memory.

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As already mentioned, Clarkson’s vocal range borders on absurd, and her talent is evident in many of the high-noted soaring harmonies that can be found on songs like, “Cruel,” which is also one of the more deviantly soulful and brass compositions on the album. However, there are moments, where, as Kelly has been inclined in the past, while aiming for notes that are only barely out of her range, her vocal strain is not only evident, but mildly distracting on songs like “I Don’t Think About You,” or “Go High.” The latter is a uniquely unexpected electronic track where her voice otherwise seems at home, with a great deal of vocal layering allowing Clarkson to accent and harmonize with herself.

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Beyond Kelly’s dominating presence, one of the projects core strengths is song structure. There isn’t a transition or instrumental change on the whole album that clashes with what came before. This holds true even as various tracks transcend the pop genre – such as the head-bobbing, knee-slapping title track; the body-positive war cry, “Whole Lotta Woman;” or the funk-based, “Medicine.” Whomever Clarkson has put in charge of production, knows exactly how to architect a song.

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The same cannot be said however of the collaborative writing team. While Kelly occasionally has writing credits, the clear majority of writing credits favor collaborative writers, and generally, they seem to have kept things as straight-forward as possible. Lyrics exist on this album more out of obligation than to actually say something, which is important for audiences to know, before they recklessly jump off the side of their vinyl diving boards into some painfully shallow waters. “Move You” may be one of the biggest offenders of this. This track is more or less a very long list of similes, under the premise that Kelly “want[s] to move [us]” emotionally, “like a montage in a movie, right before the hero dies,” or “like an echo in a canyon,” or “like the thrill of Christmas morning.” What this amounts to, is a song where someone tells us they want to move us, and then attempts to do so by referencing as many other things as possible, almost as if to admit a complete lack of ability to do so without help. Occasionally, on some songs, there is a line or two that becomes quickly over appreciated for its wit among mixed company. One example is on the song “Slow Dance,” where Kelly sings, “how did you go from being mama’s boy to a ladies’ man?” It’s a neat moment of wordplay that paints a very specific and self-contained image, which is why lines like this work so well.

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While Kelly Clarkson may be undeniably gifted, there’s a singular weakness to her latest branding, and it’s that it’s still just a pop record: a record meant to be as passive a listen as possible, with good choruses and overall elevated levels of excitement, plus timeless, expected subject matters that adamantly refuse to challenge the listener. The result is a 2017-pop-sounding album that tries ineffectually for 44 minutes to convince you that it floats above the fray, when in fact it will be forgotten by this time next year except by her most loyal of fans.