With no Madonna to snog at an awards ceremony to tease the gossip columns, Britney Spears's eighth album arrives a little more under the radar than past releases.
Indeed, Britney is about to take herself out of the main pop game altogether, becoming another ride in the theme park when she begins a two-year residency show in Las Vegas.
Britney Jean, despite early claims that it is her most personal project, is all about the production, which swamps the tissue-thin lyrics.
At times it is more like a David Guetta album on which Britney Spears happens to be guest vocalist: the Frenchman has his fingerprints all over It Should Be Easy and Body Ache, although it should be noted there are no fewer than 20 producers credited on the album's 10 tracks.
"Executive producer" credit goes to The Black Eyed Peas' will.i.am and, granted, there is an unlikely coherence to the whole (but avoid at all costs the deluxe edition with Now That I Found You, a laugh-out-loud bad collaboration with The Script's Danny O'Donoghue).
This is Britney as arena dance floor-filler not pop princess, where the fast-faster-fastest beat crescendo so favoured by Calvin Harris becomes a cheap trick used again and again and again.