Chér

If Cher sounds like she's phoning it in on her third studio album, Chér, it's probably because she was. Let's get real—her solo career was barely out of the gate, and yet she was already cranking out her third record. Oh, and two of these albums? Released in the same year. Classic case of quantity over quality, courtesy of Sonny Bono's relentless cash grab mindset.

Sure, the song selection on Chér is a step up from the snooze fest that was The Sonny Side of Chér, but it still feels like Sonny was just slapping Cher's name on whatever would stick to the charts. And hey, why not? She had just struck gold with "Bang Bang (My Baby Shot Me Down)," the only real banger on her previous LP. Naturally, the next move was, "Let's ride that wave and churn out another album!" The result? A rushed, half-baked record that doesn't quite capture the magic we know Cher can deliver.

Cher's voice on this album is almost too sweet, like she's auditioning for the role of Karen Carpenter before Karen even hit the scene. You can almost picture a young Karen taking notes, trying to mimic that deep-yet-delicate tone. But let's not kid ourselves—that kind of restraint is what makes Chér feel so un-Cher. Take "The Twelfth of Never," for instance. Cher's so subdued, you can practically hear Sonny in the background, whispering, "Keep it cute, honey."

Years later, Cher nailed it when she said, "It was a time when girl singers were patted on the head for being good and told not to think." And that's exactly what Chér feels like—a powerhouse vocalist forced into a Stepford Wife mold, stripped of the edge that would later define her.

But hey, it's not all bad. The album kicks off with "Sunny," a track that, on paper, reads as peak cringe. The Sonny/Sunny pun is almost too much, but somehow Cher's emotional delivery almost makes it work. Almost. Then there's "I Feel Something in the Air," a dark little number where Cher's deadpan delivery nails the song's bleakness, capturing the dread of a teenage girl facing an unwanted pregnancy. It's raw, it's real, and it's one of the few times on the album where you can hear that fire we know she's got.

And let's not forget "Alfie," the track from that Michael Caine flick. Cher starts off all soft and angelic, only to build into the belter we know is lurking underneath. It's like a sneak peek at the vocal powerhouse she'd eventually become. Sure, Dionne Warwick's version stole the show, but it's Cher's take that pops into my head whenever I casually drop, "What's it all about, Alfie?" into conversation.

In the end, Chér is a snapshot of a young artist trapped in a mold she was never meant to fit. You can sense her true potential bubbling under the surface, just waiting for its moment to explode.