Pharrell Williams’ “G I R L” is purportedly an “ode to women.” However, the album does very little to distinguish itself from other pop records by male artists or build on the ideas of respecting and appreciating women, a disappointment that is first evident in its diminutive title. But Pharrell does not fail only in his attempt to develop themes about women. “G I R L” also refuses to develop any themes at all, as the essence of the album seems to be a haphazard collection of styles, featured artists, and lyrical content.

With “G I R L,” Pharrell is given a relatively unique opportunity to redefine himself musically. Recently, he has enjoyed a fair amount of publicity, being featured on the extremely popular tracks “Get Lucky” and “Blurred Lines”; however, because neither of these songs emblazoned Pharrell stylistically and because his prominent role in the hip-hop group N.E.R.D. is far from being on the radar of pop culture, Pharrell is virtually free from expectations. Disappointingly, outside of the oft-used, funk-inspired guitar riffs, “G I R L” has only ensured that his signature remains undefined.

One of the greatest detriments to the album is the slew of featured artists, ranging from Daft Punk to Miley Cyrus. Without exception, they dominate the style of their respective songs, at times making it difficult to distinguish who was featuring whom. The track that features Daft Punk, “Gust of Wind,” has enough of their distinctive and heavily produced, robotic vocals to actually be a Daft Punk original; the Miley Cyrus track “Come Get It Bae,” on which “hey”s are yelled ad nauseam, has both Pharrell and Miley singing “You wanna ride it / My motorcycle,” clearly aligning the song with Cyrus’s recent lyrical content.

Similarly, “Know Who You Are” feels very Alicia Keys, and features one of the few moments on the album that addresses its mission. However, although Keys provides uplifting lyrics for “every woman,” this moment is nearly at the end of “G I R L,” and feels like a half-baked attempt to remedy the sometimes sexually aggressive lyrics that are completely inconsistent with Pharrell’s proclaimed goal.

The one collaborator who seemingly has serious potential on “G I R L” is Justin Timberlake. Unfortunately, “Brand New” is one of the least successful tracks. Instrumentally, the song deviate far from expectations, featuring high-energy guitar riffs, light and upbeat percussion, and smoothly delivered, sensual lyrics. As it turns out, however, Pharrell’s often suave voice and Justin Timberlake’s use of nasal tones are unreservedly jarring together. After an onslaught of fascinating mouth sounds (“wuh-kuh-chuh-kuh”), the song proceeds quite standardly for the first few lyrics. Then, the guitar jumps up somewhat clumsily in an awkward interval, and Justin Timberlake’s overbearing vocals hit like a ton—or two—of bricks. Assuming the listener can recover from this, she will discover an ungrounded, uninteresting song that is recklessly chipper.

Pharrell does find some success in his already-released single, “Happy.” Vocally, this is possibly his best performance, and the infectious exhilaration lends the track a unique, cohesive energy not seen on the rest of the album. Though, of course, most rooms do not have roofs, as the song would suggest, the lyrics seem adequate for the extremely lighthearted song, neither detracting nor enhancing.

Another high point is the vibrant and irresistibly danceable opener, “Marilyn Monroe.” Though the lyrics lack consistency when Pharrell sings ineloquent lines like “What can we do? We’re helpless romantics. / We cannot help who we’re attracted to. / So let’s all dance and elevate each other,” these moments are more than made up for by the compelling pre-chorus and chorus, which were reminiscent of the style of Timberlake’s sophomore album, “FutureSex/LoveSounds”—lyrics delivered exclamatorily, no shortness of falsetto, a smart, simple beat, and, of course, the ever-elusive “cool” factor.

Though Pharrell does not exactly dig himself a grave with “G I R L,” he certainly does not set a precedent for future greatness, either. His periodic instances of musical enticement are simply outweighed by general thematic confusion and fundamentally irreconcilable styles throughout the album. At the end of the day, Pharrell’s “ode to women” is more of an ode to mediocrity.

—Staff writer Ahmee Marshall-Christensen can be reached at ahmee.marshall-christensen@thecrimson.com.