On her latest album, Lindsay Lohan informs us that she was not only “born a fighter,” but that she was “born on a rainy day” to boot. Oh Lindsay, we feel your pain (and your rain). Please tell us more…possibly in album form?

Lohan’s sophomore effort promise to be more introspective than her first in its very title: “A Little More Personal (RAW).” If this truly is Lindsay Lohan “raw,” she should have stuck to a more refined pop product.

Ok, Lindsay, your family is a bit of a mess. You have a poor relationship with your father and, like most child actors, you probably grew up a little too fast. The album’s first single, “Confessions of a Broken Heart (Daughter to Father),” expresses a sadness absent from “Speak,” Lohan’s debut.

Maybe Lindsay finally got the memo: she may not be an above-average singer, but she’s an actress with a pretty solid track record. That said, her overblown histrionics don’t quite work in stereo.

“Personal” is, at its best, an overacted soundtrack to the sensationalized Lindsay Lohan story (featured in a tabloid near you). At its worst, it’s the whiny attempt of a self-proclaimed drama queen to be taken seriously as an artist.

The album’s titular track is disappointing, to say the least. You’d think that if Lindsay really wanted to share her inner thoughts, fears and desires with her fans, she would do so for at least three minutes. Instead, all we get is two minutes and fifty-four seconds of fluff, as Lindsay sagely reminds us that opening up and showing pain is a good thing, abstractly speaking.

The track’s only real revelation comes at the beginning, when she proclaims: “I like when people talk in the beginning of songs/I think it’s kind of rad.”

“Rad” indeed, Lindsay…rad, indeed.

More disappointingly, the vast majority of the tracks on “Personal” seem interchangeable. “Black Hole” is a song about not being loved enough. “My Innocence” is a song about not being loved enough. Even Lohan’s cover of Cheap Trick’s “I Want You to Want Me” is a song about not being loved enough. Concept albums are all well and good, but “Personal” leaves the audience begging for something, anything, different.

Ironically enough for such a “personal” album, the most satisfying song here is not one of the many songs that Lohan helped write. Her version of Stevie Nicks’ “Edge of Seventeen,” while not particularly impressive in its own right, shines compared to the rest of the album.

The album’s one catchy chorus comes during the crooning “Who Loves You,” which would be more appropriately titled “Whoooooooo-oooooooooooo-ooooooo Loves You.”

“Fastlane” may be a fun song to belt out at middle school sleepovers, but it lacks a danceable beat. A remix might salvage the pop potential here (Lil Jon, mayhaps?); maybe then it will be stand out as more than mediocre.

Upon close scrutiny of the album, there seems to be something missing: a single. Lindsay will assuredly end up with a few videos on the top of the TRL countdown (the video for “Confessions” has already reached #1), but none of the album’s songs would attract an audience without a little help from a provocative Lohan visual.

Lindsay Lohan has made some good movies, some great music videos, and her previous singles were decent as well. On this album, she should have paid heed to the maxim: “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.”

Her attempt to be “more personal” is contrived; even fans who follow the gossip surrounding Lohan’s life will be disappointed by the album’s lack of insight. An issue of US Weekly costs less, and tells a lot more.