Katy Perry apparently loves performing music, but she doesn’t seem to be much of a listener. Since Max Martin and Dr. Luke first foisted her on the public with “I Kissed a Girl” in 2008, she hasn’t shown much curiosity about different genres or sounds. Six albums in, it’s fair to say that she doesn’t find dissonance even a tiny bit attractive, and she’s never been seduced by rough edges. Every single release, including the new album 143, is aiming for the exact same shine.

All that glitter gets dull after a while, and 143 is so lacking in fresh ideas and human touches that it accidentally slips into the AI Uncanny Vally; even if no AI was involved, it gives you the same queasy feeling in your stomach. 143 is a mercenary, soulless venture that raises lot of questions. Here are the mysteries we’re still pondering about Katy Perry’s new album 143.

Why Dr. Luke?

Perry’s 2010 album Teenage Dream is one of the most fun pop albums of this millennium. This is thanks in large part to Max Martin and his stable of melody writers, including his most famous protege, Łukasz “Dr. Luke” Gottwald. Martin practically invented the modern songwriting factory, for long stretches serving as the primary pen for Backstreet Boys, N*SYNC, and Britney Spears. He also helped engineer Taylor Swift’s pop turn, co-writing bits of Red and executive producing 1989 with help from a different protege, Shellback. Swift’s experience with the Martin model is instructive.

Like Perry, Taylor Swift used Martin’s team to craft some masterful confections. But during the Reputation sessions Swift seems to have decided the group was just about washed (hey, more than two decades is a hell of a run), and dumped them for Jack Antonoff. Perry didn’t notice, and has worked with at least one of Martin, Dr. Luke, and Shellback on every single one of her six albums, with diminishing results. Kesha’s allegations of abuse against Dr. Luke didn’t phase her; 143 is executive produced by Gottwald.

For 143 Dr. Luke licks a few crumbs from Lady Gaga’s table and borrows some of Beyoncé’s palette for Renaissance — the house-inspired first one, not COWBOY CARTER — and other beats are kind of familiar, too, maybe like that minor Calvin Harris song, you know, with the singer whose name you can’t quite remember? At this point, familiarity is Dr. Luke’s trademark, as evidenced by all the lawsuits he’s racked up over the years alleging copyright infringement. You hire this doctor to make a hit by any means necessary. And even with all his baggage, he isn’t earning that paycheck; no single from 143 even cracked the Top 40. That’s medical malpractice.

Why Even Bother with “WOMAN’s WORLD?”

Briefly and in order, the main ideas expressed by Katy Perry on each track of 143:

Feminism
Horniness
Horniness
Jealousy
Love
Love
Love
Horniness
Horniness
Jealousy
Love

It’s not that any of these ideas are out of place on a pop album, it’s that one of them didn’t get any support. “WOMAN’S WORLD” sounded half-assed the moment it dropped, and the rest of 143 proved it. Katy Perry isn’t staying up all night thinking about the obstacles facing women; even on an album that starts with “WOMAN’S WORLD,” the thought barely registers.

Speaking of themes, that brings us to the next question.

Where Is the 4?

“143” has meant “I love you” since at least the days of Mister Roger’s Neighborhood, when Mister Roger used it to represent the letters in each word of the phrase: 1, 4, 3, “I love you.” Katy Perry’s 143 is a little lacking in the 4. Early on, Perry and her collaborators explore urgent physical attraction, the kind that looks for motels with hourly rates. There’s also a “CRUSH,” a bit about soulmates (“LIFETIMES”), and, later and even more briefly, her relationship with her daughter (“WONDER”).

Panting with horniness is a time-honored tradition in pop, but front-loading it does make the title feel a little bit shallow. Besides, the platitudes Perry offers about love are almost offensively vague. “Feelin’ all the butterflies/ Livin’ in a candy daydream,” she sings in “CRUSH,” and don’t try that at an open mic or you’ll be hissed off stage. She and her co-writers just don’t have much to say about love.

It’s not that 143 is a bad title; it’s nice in the abstract but disconnected from the product. It doesn’t add anything to the listening experience, and may as well be random numbers.

Speaking of…

Does Perry Think Words Have Meaning, or Are They Just Nifty Sounds?

Because some of these lyrics are difficult to understand, and she’s the one who has to sing them. In “LIFETIMES” she seems to assert that she and her partner’s love is permanent, “Like the sun is always rising/ Like the stars are in the sky,” and it’s like, huh, you know the sun isn’t always rising, right?

But her more common lyrics are vaguely cool nonsense. On “GIMME GIMME,” she sings,

All my girlies pop up on the regular (Yeah, yeah)
Pick your poison, baby, take a bite
If you want the digits to my cellular (Yeah, yeah)
Gotta spend it all on me tonight

34 words, a surprising number of cliches, and not a single new thought. Oh well, at least here she’s trying; on “CRUSH” she just shrugs her shoulders at “emotions that I can’t describe.”

What Does Perry Actually “WONDER” About?

Because it isn’t expressed on “WONDER,” the closing track that doesn’t quite live up to its emotional potential. Perry’s four-year-old daughter Daisy opens the song with the refrain: “One day, when we’re older/ Will we still look up in wonder?” It’s an interesting moment, mother and daughter staring up at the sky and feeling touched by the beautiful and unexpected. Perry then takes it over, and again a lack of specificity in the lyrics lets her down. Here’s the whole chorus:

One day, when we’re older
Will we still look up in wonder?
Someday, when we’re wiser
Will our hearts still have that fire?
Can somebody promise me
Our innocence doesn’t get lost in this cynical world?
One day, when we’re older
Will we still look up in wonder?

This is a mom talking to her daughter, or a daughter talking to her mom? “Someday, when we’re wiser/ Will our hearts still have that fire?” They sound like a pair of students, young enough to not feel cynical but old enough to know that cynicism is coming. Maybe, you might think, Daisy and Katy are just voicing characters? But then why include Daisy’s voice in this song, compared to all the others? The tone of the words is so odd that it banishes that initial warm image.

Besides, this late in the 33-minute run, it’s hard not to want a little bit more. Perry, Dr. Luke, and the rest of the collaborators have spent the whole album only pointing towards big emotions, asking the listener to go there and feel something themselves. So you and your child are looking up, whatever the circumstances may be. What are you looking at? Is it a bird? A satellite? A cloud that looks like a dog? Maybe if she told us, we could feel some of that wonder.

Daisy returns to close out the song, her voice the last thing we hear on 143. You might think “WONDER” would stand out in Perry’s discography, the only track with a four-year-old’s voice. But they’ve put so much autotune on Daisy’s vocals that you half expect her to slur, “I’m T-Pain, you know me.” She doesn’t really sound like a human kid. Perry finally did something new, and then she flattened it into another glittery nothing.