ARTPOP might be the most determinedly hyped album in pop history, and it would have to be, following Lady Gaga’s enormous success since the release of The Fame in 2008. Happily, it duly delivers in many respects, but something about ARTPOP feels vaguely hollow in a way the rest of her work never has.

The album opens magnificently, with a string of four songs – 'Aura', 'Venus', 'G.U.Y' and 'Sexxx Dreams' – that recalls the dizzying heights of Gaga’s past genius, complete with her usual vocal acrobatics, overblown lyricism (including puns about Uranus) and her heavy, inescapable synthesiser hooks: in short, everything that makes Lady Gaga so unbearably addictive – or simply unbearable, for the churlish. 'Sexxx Dreams' is a particular highlight; destined to be the soundtrack to a raunchy scene in the likes of Skins, it’s a filthy, mid-tempo ode to masturbation and sexual fantasies. It even sounds like a dingy club. At one point, Gaga breaks off, giggles, says: “I can’t believe I’m telling you this, but I’ve had a couple drinks, and oh my God…” and all her giddy, outlandish magic rushes back.

This is followed by the aggressively terrible 'Jewels ‘n Drugs', where Gaga plays second fiddle to a coterie of atrocious rappers. The rest of the album is never quite as bad, but even the title track 'ARTPOP' feels token and forced. Gaga trips up on her wordplay in 'MANiCURE', while 'Dope', a thick ballad in the tradition of 'Speechless' and 'Hair', is overwrought and unconvincing.

It’s a shame that these tracks are even on the album. It’s a little long, and the excision of these three in particular would have had greatly improved the overall picture. Several others, including 'Fashion!' and 'Mary Jane Holland', just aren’t very interesting at all. There is no trace of the creative hyperactivity of her previous albums, and much feels like filler from a club album.

Fortunately, it is salvaged by some excellent songs, including the two lead singles 'Do What U Want' and 'Applause'. 'Swine' is a joy to listen to, as Gaga shrieks into the microphone, calling her man “a pig inside a human body” in one of the most indulgent tracks she’s ever produced.

Even then, the album lacks the mind-bending brilliance of her previous work. Something is lacking, and for an album promoted as if it were this generation’s Sgt Pepper, it’s a serious let-down. From someone like Gaga, who makes her trade in confounding our expectations, it’s not just an average album; it could seriously damage her career. Disappointing sales in the US and Europe seem to confirm this, but let us hope she pulls it back. Gaga is not yet finished with pop – more importantly, it’s not finished with her.