1/2 out of *****

A glance at the cover of Memoirs of an Imperfect Angel is a visual insight to the musical contents of Mariah Carey’s latest release. Three surgically enhanced and photoshopped divas adorn the cover — all Mariah Carey, all representing her scandalous self. The first depicts her as drugged-out diva, the second is her attempt to show the world she’s still an innocent butterfly, while the third catches Carey and her plastic parts mid-orgasm.

Like the self-obsessed cover, Memoirs aims to take the listener through a day in the life of the seemingly schizophrenic songstress. It succeeds — if the focal points of her life including revenge over heartache, being stalked by a sex maniac, and a having passion for being tied up in ribbons and getting loved on. Surprise, the album sucks.

Carey is known as a goddess with a vocal range on par with female ballad counterpart Whitney Houston, but besides possessing a sexy bod, her beautiful vox is about all she has these days. Each song on the disc, though dripping with Mimi’s luscious voice, is worse than its predecessor, mostly thanks to lyrics more awful than the plot line/acting/overall premise of Glitter.

She opens the album with “Betcha Gon’ Know,” a track where the imperfect angel shrieks about the pain of being cheated on and her plots of revenge (marriage imperfect as well, Ms. Cannon?).

Annoying, yes, but not so terrible as “Up Out My Face (The Reprise).” The spiritless track features a Drumline re-enactment complete with a marching band full of screeching whistles, boisterous brass, and a cheese factor rivaling the lyrics of “Always Be My Baby.”

Similarly, “Ribbon” is a pure showcase of slut, opening with a deep auto-tuned voice that incessantly repeats the phrase “loving on my mind.” It must be, because the track itself is about Carey wrapping herself up in ribbons and doin’ the nasty. Intentional masochism aside, there simply aren’t any painless songs to be found on Memoirs. “Candy Bling,” besides having a lame name, continues the lethargic lyricism with “Butterfly flow like / Muhammad Ali.” Sorry, Mariah — that makes less sense than your sudden (and almost statutory) marriage.

One major problem with Memoirs is its lack of originality — it’s apparent that as Carey’s age progresses, so does her reliance on old material. The track “H.A.T.E.U.” not only sports a title worse than Mariah’s man-makeup in the “Obsessed” music video but is also a near-replica of E=MC2’s “Bye Bye.” “Inseparable” is another example, containing the lyrics “Well I’m lost can’t you look / Won’t you please find me.” Hey, Mariah, ever heard the words “If you’re lost you can look / and you will find me?” Cyndi Lauper claimed that first. She also did it better.

Another eerie recycling is Mimi’s cover of Foreigner’s “I Want to Know What Love Is.” It’s odd that Carey’s day consists of singing tunes by other bands — though maybe that’s why she calls herself imperfect. Sure, everyone’s allowed to do a cover every once in a while, but when that song is the best on the album, then it’s a problem.

Memoirs of an Imperfect Angel may have been terrible, but Carey’s loyal fans won’t mind. Hey, die-hards, don’t forget to check out disc two. It’s got five remixes of “Obsessed.” Go crazy.