The path leading away from television talent shows is littered with grisly musical debris: the remains of Gareth Gates; a half-melted tangle of metal and Hear’Say; Steve Brookstein. Being part-cyborg, Girls Aloud were always going to triumph over humankind, but otherwise there’s a general assumption that winning these shows equals a Christmas No 1, bargain-bin ignominy and ultimately, a hideous reality-show appearance, possibly involving Gillian McKeith. Some might call it the circle of life – especially if they were writing “inspirational” lyrics for the winner’s new album.

The people behind Leona Lewis, the comely winner of last year’s X Factor, are keen to stress that the 22-year-old Londoner is an entirely different kettle of stylists. Despite securing last year’s Christmas No 1 with the lachrymose ballad A Moment Like This, there was no attempt to rush-release her debut album. Instead, Simon Cowell, her X-Factor mentor and the executive producer of Spirit, allowed her to take her time, working with a glitzy array of producers and songwriters.

There is also evidence of the slightly pathetic fluster the British get into when America shows any interest in them: the record mogul Clive Davis told Cowell he might have “another Whitney Houston” on his hands and all efforts have been made to strengthen Lewis’s chances in the United States.

The “long-awaited” Spirit proves that Lewis, a stage-school veteran, certainly has Houston’s fondness for vocal curlicues, hitting notes so high that they can be heard only by divas. She has a powerful voice but on Spirit it seems to have paralysed her collaborators creatively. Instead of taking the opportunity to craft it into new and exciting shapes, it has been stuck in a big spotlit display case, revolving slowly and rather boringly on a velvet cushion of overstuffed balladry. Songs such as Footprints in the Sand, all crashing drums and gospel backing, or the crushingly earnest Yesterday, merge into each other, the kind of thing made to come out of the speakers in your local salon while you wait for the Saturday junior to shampoo your hair. You can almost smell the conditioner as she emotes through Angel or Take a Bow.

It’s a shame – everyone loves a rags-to-riches fairytale, and by all accounts Lewis is a sweet girl – but no surprise. Spirit pays quivering lip service to ideas of beauty and talent and “specialness”, but is ultimately too manufactured even to be great manufactured pop. If Lewis is looking for the greatest love of all – public adoration – she will have to do better than this.

(Syco Music/Sony BMG)

Editor's choice

• The 100 Best Films of 2009
• The 100 Worst Movies of 2009
• The 100 Best Films of the Decade