Prince's new triple album: more is much, much, much less

The artist formerly known as the Artist Formerly Known as Prince is at it again. Clearly unsatisfied with the controversy surrounding his last release, which was distributed for free in the United Kingdom, the Purple One has decided to one-up himself: His latest release is a whopping three albums in one. Only sold at Target. For $11.98. And the front cover is a picture of Prince's chin in a perfume bottle. Or a crystal ball. Or something.

To call the entire affair "odd" would be a gross understatement - maybe "bloody ridiculous" would be closer to the mark. Then again, it's not as if Prince is renowned for his normality. Lest we forget, this is the man who seemingly decided in the late '80s that he was bored of being a normal superstar. Less than five years after releasing his blockbusting masterpiece "Sign ‘o' the Times," Prince had changed his name to an unpronounceable symbol, ditched his record label and released a series of nigh-unlistenable commercial flops. Like I said: odd. I mean, this isn't even the guy's first triple album. Anyone remember his sprawling 1996 monstrosity "Emancipation," released at perhaps the lowest point of Prince's career tailspin? No, didn't think so.

In the past few years, though, it seemed like Prince was finally regaining his place as a legendary pop icon. His 2006 album "3121" was his strongest offering in at least a decade, and perhaps it's no coincidence that it was his first chart-topper in even longer than that. No more partying like it's 1999 - the smart and sassy "3121" saw Prince updating his trademark pop-funk sound without simply reprocessing it, and for long-suffering fans like me it was a merciful change, a sign that he was finally emerging from his self-imposed sabbatical.

Prince's comeback continued at a cracking pace in 2007, as he performed an extravagant, widely acclaimed set at the Super Bowl halftime show. Looking both to the present (an electrifying cover of the Foo Fighters' "Best of You") and to the past (a smattering of classics from "Purple Rain" to "Let's Go Crazy"), Prince reminded viewers the world over why he was one of the most well-known faces in popular music. That same summer, he sold out a series of 21 shows at London's gargantuan O2 arena. That meant selling 140,000 seats in just 20 minutes. That's a lot.

But just as his comeback was reaching its apex, Prince apparently decided he'd had enough. I guess after having been pop's resident weirdo for 20 years, he wasn't going to relinquish the title that easily. In an utterly bewildering move, he decided to distribute his 24th studio album, "Planet Earth," for free in the United Kingdom. Sadly, the album very much deserved to be given away gratis: In every way that "3121" had been nifty and stylish, "Planet Earth" was lifeless and tacky, filled with cookie-cutter pop-funk and colorless guitar rock.

Unfortunately, Prince's latest release only continues the downward trend. Forget the wildly theatrical presentation, the silly covers and the irritatingly misspelt names. Even the best parts of "LOtUSFLOW3R," "MPLSound" and "Elixer" would make for a disappointing single disc. It's all a lot of glitz and glamour for nothing: The more dramatic Prince's PR schemes, the more boring the music.

The first disc, "LOtUSFLOW3R" (no, I didn't just hit caps lock by mistake), is supposed to be the "rock record." Sadly, the result is about as "rawk" as bargain bin Barry Manilow, with anemic production, tuneless melodies and far too many wanky guitar solos. Note to Prince: A great guitar solo is defined by concision, not length, and just plunking in endless guitar-noodling does not a rock album make.

Of course, this being Prince, there are a few interesting moments floating about amid the general drudgery. The opening "Boom" matches sinewy verse to stop-start chorus with surprisingly convincing results; "Colonized Mind" is the perfect soundtrack to late-night, candlelit romance; and the terrific "Dreamer" is Prince's attempt at grunge, churning with killer riffs. None of these tracks really excuse the rest of the disc, which sounds like over-produced elevator music, but they do prove that Prince isn't totally over the hill.

The second disc, "MPLSound," is quite a bit better, though still far from perfect. Decode Prince's esoteric spelling and you'll find the name actually stands for "Minneapolis Sound," the terse, minimalist robo-funk that defined Prince's early records. Prince tries to update the style on "MPLSound," dusting off his drum machines and synthesizers and matching them to auto-tune vocals and try-hard ghetto slang. The results, as one would expect, are rather bewildering. "Chocolate Box," for instance, is a garish train-wreck of a song, like T-Pain ineptly covering "Erotic City."

Still, there's some pretty great stuff here. The spasmodic "Dance 4 Me" sounds like disco music for robots; "U're Gonna C Me" is prime Prince, from its irritating text-language title to its fragile vocal melody; and on the spiraling synth-pop of "Valentina," Prince addresses Salma Hayek's one-year-old daughter with lines like "Tell your mama she should give me a call / when she gets tired of running after you down the hall / and she's all worn out from those late-night feedings." I haven't yet decided whether the track is good or just gimmicky - but with a song this outlandishly silly, that question might be beside the point.

The last disc, "Elixer," is an entire album of filler, and Prince isn't even on nine of the 10 tracks. Credited to his protegee Bria Valente - who looks like a computer-generated pin-up on the cover - the record is remarkably bland, filled with the kind of insipid, easy-listening R&B that Prince could probably produce in his sleep.

It doesn't help that Valente's an utterly unremarkable singer. She may sigh and moan a lot, but her nymphomaniac vocals can't hide the fact that she's merely a female cipher for Prince's melodies. When her mentor turns up for a guest-spot on the title track, her vapid personality is only brought into starker relief - Prince's sordid falsetto screeches make her sound like a choirgirl by comparison.

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That's not to say the album is an unpleasant listen. I certainly had no problem getting through it, and there are a couple of striking arrangements, from the skewed, minimal groove of "2Nite" to the finger-snapping funk of "Here Eye Come." But it's background music plain and simple, the kind of wishy-washy R&B that plays at cheap-o restaurants on Valentine's Day.

So, what do you get for your 12 bucks? Well, you get a lot of cardboard and plastic, as well as several feet of wrapping to tear off - but not all that much else. Despite the melodramatic presentation, Prince's new albums are a mixed bag, occasionally inspired, occasionally awful and all very forgettable.

And in the end, that's the saddest thing about the whole hare-brained scheme. In his '80s heyday, every Prince record seemed light-years ahead of its contemporaries, exploding with avant-garde arrangements and cutting-edge instrumentation. His two best albums, 1984's "Purple Rain" and 1987's "Sign ‘o' the Times," still sound good on the radio today, and it's easy to spot Prince's blanket influence on just about every pop musician from Pharrell Williams to Justin Timberlake. But the easiest way to describe this two-hour, three-album slog?

Boring.

2 Paws

Pros A handful of fun tracks, none of them brilliant but all of them very listenable. Particularly enjoyable backward-looking robo-funk on second disc "MPLSound."

Cons A vast ocean of filler on most of the first disc and all of the last one. Prince's idiosyncratic genius is evident only in these albums' presentation - the music inside is mostly dull as ditchwater.