by Stephen Thomas ErlewineFew American Idol contestants have ever seemed to come straight from central casting as much as Ace Young, that long-haired, non-threatening hunk blessed with the good looks of one of Samantha Jones' interchangeable boyfriends on Sex & the City, and a name to match. Ace Young looked like he was made for TV and he sang like that too, never quite managing a memorable performance in the weeks he was on the show, a situation that perhaps should have been taken as a warning, suggesting that he might not have the skills to pull of a record on his own, even if he helped pen DAUGHTRY's hit "It's Not Over." Ace Young proves that suspicion true, as it manages to leave no lasting impression -- which is a remarkable feat, as Young tries a little bit of everything here, all the better to have him fit on some radio format somewhere. Most of the time, he rides a Michael Jackson-inspired groove borrowed from Justin Timberlake -- the JT of Justified, not the cold robotic loverman of FutureSex/LoveSounds -- a sound that does have its appeal, particularly as the disco-fied rhythms are immaculate and warm. When he's not in this mode, Young switches over to arena-filling, radio-devouring power ballads that prove he does indeed bear some responsibility for DAUGHTRY's success. Both sides of the coin are well-crafted sonically and structurally -- and they're both tied together by a slight '80s obsession, as both the dance tunes and power ballads feel indebted to the heyday of Michael Jackson, George Michael, and Bon Jovi -- but where they falter is in the front, as Young's blandly handsome voice just can't lift these tunes off the ground. He's slick and sweet but utterly weightless, never pulling listeners into the songs, never giving them a personality. Ironically for somebody blessed with such telegenic good looks, Young seems to be a born demo singer, sketching out the blueprint of a hit but never scaling the charts himself. It's easy to listen to Ace Young and imagine some singer turning the bright percolating rhythms of "The Gift" or the moody, slinky "The Letter" into a hit, but just not Ace Young, as he never inhabits these professional pieces of pop; he merely sings as if he were laying down a scratch vocal instead of the final take.