Listening to Katy Perry’s newest album, “Prism,” I couldn’t help but feel a hint of déjà vu.

Maybe it was because of the lush instrumentation that, while undoubtedly catchy, blended in from one song to another, leaving the album bland as a whole.

Maybe it was the uninspired lyrics that the songwriters seem to have snipped directly from 90’s motivational pamphlets or bad television sitcoms (Who describes their nails as “Japanese-y?” Who does that?)

Maybe it was the empty message of some of the songs. The whole “party-girl” vibe present in the beginning of the album failed to capture the tone of the more introspective second half.

Despite these complaints, “Prism” is by no means a terrible album, just not a great one. There are some genuine, exhilarating moments in here.  “Love Me” for example, starts off strong, with the first verse and chorus connected through a bit of clever wordplay. I attest that my feet were tapping for its entirety. However, its catchiness was not in vain. Its message ultimately kept with the more mature tone as opposed to the lightness of “Teenage Dream,” her sophomore album, through its messages regarding the importance of one’s identity. It thereby cemented its position as one of the better songs on “Prism.” Not too preachy, not too out-of-place, but just right.

Sadly, not all songs in “Prism” seemed like they belonged. There were some definite sore thumbs in the mix. “This is How We Do,” a club tune that features Perry half-singing, half-rapping about a memorable night out (sound familiar?), comes to mind. To add insult to injury, she then launches into a “shout-out” to all those that may have partied just as hard as her, breaking the flow of the song and alienating it from the album as a whole. Shouting out to “kids buying bottle service with (their) rent money” seems, on first, second and third blush, to be more akin to “party hard” than “Prism.”

Fortunately, these complaints and other aberrations are made up for somewhat in the album’s second half. Here, Perry succeeds in being more down-to-earth, even if that sincerity is conveyed through typical, contrived pop catchphrases. The throwaway radio-fanfare songs that peppered the first part of the album were, to my appreciation, not present. A heartfelt purpose can be felt in “Ghost,” where Perry laments her recent divorce, or in “By the Grace of God,” where she comes to terms with heartbreak. One could even argue that these moments herald a new phase in Perry’s music, transitioning from the optimism of “Teenage Dream” to a more real, mature perspective. However, despite these instances, the bubbly, electronic beats and the cookie-cutter lyrics used to convey these messages make the album, while memorable at times, a rehash of an old formula. For example, Perry doesn’t even attempt to change the classic underdog story in “Roar.” By the time she gets to the first chorus and declares, “you held me down but I got up,” you can probably snore through the rest of the song and still get its gist. Like the rest of the album, it’s good, mindless, sometimes meaningful pop, but nothing to write home about.

Score: 6/10