Michelle Branch defines a new breed of pop star, the Girl Who Likes to Sing. Branch, Vanessa Carlton, Norah Jones -- none of them may be a genius in the songwriting department or a virtuoso on her instrument. But when you listen to them sing, you notice that they really like to sing. They're an inevitable development in teen pop, building on the archetype of the Girl Who Needs to Perform, the driven Britney-Christina pro who conveys a desperate craving for attention. The Girls Who Like to Sing are pros in a different way, trying hard to project maturity and sincerity. But the most likable thing about them is that whether or not they're any good at what they do, they sure enjoy getting to do it. Michelle Branch sings, plays guitar and writes her own songs, sometimes solo, which doesn't necessarily mean jack shizznit in terms of quality -- Neil Sedaka wrote his own songs, Dusty Springfield didn't, but which one are people still listening to? In her songs, Branch doesn't show the wisecracking Led Zeppelin fan she reveals in interviews; she isn't a better-than-average songwriter, not yet. She has written some great ones, such as "Everywhere." But she also has to take the rap for her Santana duet, "Game of Love," one of the most excruciating hits of the past few years -- that "A little bit of this/A little bit of that" chorus is God's way of letting you know you've stayed at the mall too long and it's time for some fresh air. Hotel Paper isn't a big advance -- more like a holding pattern. The title song is the best thing here, and even if it's the ultimate singer-songwriter cliche -- a song about how lonely it is to spend all your time on the road -- it takes a piece of your heart anyway. But in the course of the album, it's hard not to notice that all the songs sound the same, and for that matter, they all sound the same as that Avril Lavigne song about the damn cold night, even if Michelle technically got there before Avril. (So why didn't she bring Avril a sweater? It's damn cold out there!) Branch can't be blamed for the hammy mainstream-rock production, but since every song plods to the same midtempo rhythm, nothing stands out -- even the Sheryl Crow duet "Love Me Like That" fades into the background. The lyrics are your basic second-album material: the mysteries of bus stations, packed bags, driving in the rain and long-distance romance. Her wit doesn't appear. Hotel Paper shows that Michelle Branch is determined to mature and that she has the talent to become the long-term pop pro she clearly wants to be -- it's just a matter of working on her craft until it matches her drive. Rob Sheffield (RS 926, July 10, 2003) -- There are trivial truths and the great truths. The opposite of a trivial truth is plainly false. The opposite of a great truth is also true. - Niels Bohr --

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