A. Ryan Leslie ’98 has a romantic streak that sets him apart from the rest of the modern R&B world—this Harvard grad knows how to treat the ladies. Unfortunately, the producer-turned-performer’s latest release, “Transitions,” is sleek and uninspired, relying on common tropes and clichés in order to appeal to a mass audience and mask its subpar vocals. While the album remains relatively listenable, Leslie’s attempts to create common ground render his songs false and hollow.

Leslie’s story is far less clichéd than his music. A Government concentrator and member of the Krokodiloes, he graduated from Harvard at the tender age of 19 and delivered the Harvard Oration during commencement. Soon thereafter he found his way into music production. He’s produced for Beyoncé, Britney Spears, and most recently Cassie, whose single “Me & U”—written and produced by Leslie—reached #1 on Billboard’s Hot R&B/Hip-Hop Songs. Leslie is a master of marketing, harnessing the power of YouTube, Twitter, and MySpace to create an expansive fan base; he offers free iPods, backstage passes, and dinners as prizes to his Twitter followers.

But in 2005 Leslie turned toward performance, recording a debut album entitled “Just Right” that was only released in Europe. His self-titled second attempt, released earlier this year, was met with mixed reviews; critics simultaneously extolled his sweet melodies and electronic rhythms while mocking his generic lyrics.

His second album this year, “Transitions,” is hardly a change—if anything, the album shows not growth but regression; Leslie’s tracks seem emptier and more unimaginative. The opening of “You’re Not My Girl,” for example, mimcs the bass line on Queen’s “Another One Bites the Dust,” making use of an almost identical rhythmic structure. The song is more than unoriginal, however; it feels sparse and cheap, a sense that arises from Leslie’s lack of bass or resonance, which in turn makes his songs seem filtered and light.

And though these melodies may be sweet, Leslie isn’t a vocalist. He hits the notes, yes, and even slips into falsetto on occasion, but with his lack of variation in volume and tone, he can’t compare to modern R&B greats like Usher and John Legend. In “Never Gonna Break Up,” the first track, Leslie makes evident these weaknesses. The chorus is sung nearly an octave higher than the verses, in a breathy falsetto, but his voice is merely pleasant and its intensity remains stagnant. “Never Gonna Break Up,” however, is polished, and showcasing Leslie’s skills as a producer. The phrases are expertly timed and coordinated; everything seems diligently planned. But this adds less then it subtracts, since it makes the album seem a little too deliberate, a little too produced, a little too disingenuous.

The albums few strengths are found in its rythms, which are at times intricate, like at the start of fourth track “Is it Real Love.” “Where did you come from / where have you been?” sings Leslie, opening with a triplet and ascending gracefully in eighth notes. And in Pusha T’s opening rap phrase on “Something That I Like,” the rhythmic structure leads to an intriguing enjambment: “Silly me, now I’m so into her / fashion.” Such a line break adds clever detail.

The generic lyrics, however, overshadow the occasional rhythmic flourish. At times, Leslie’s phrases are nearly laughable. “What’s your zodiac sign?” he sings on “Zodiac.” “Are we compatible, baby? / If it matches with mine / we should think about dating.” A few songs later, in “Sunday Night,” he describes his sexual exploits on Sunday evenings: “Do you know what today is? / It’s our anniversary... Work so hard for you / Now it’s time you reimburse me.” Lame jokes and awkward cockiness emphasize his lack of authenticity and inspiration.

This void suggests precisely what it is that Leslie lacks: spirit. Leslie’s lackluster vocals and simplistic lyrics overshadow his few rhythmic intricacies. His tracks seem void of real thought, relying on a mixture of various clichés and repetitive electronic backdrops. And though “Transitions” isn’t necessarily a complete failure—his songs are listenable, indeed—it lacks substantive value, and it cheapens the notion of romance by reducing it to a set of false-sounding phrases. Leslie’s previous songwriting and producing successes have failed to translate into his newest role. He may have found success coupled with Beyoncé or Cassie, but alone, he flounders.