Everything I could possibly hope to know about Lisa Marie Presley's debut album, To Whom It May Concern, was abundantly clear before I even made the purchase.

Less than a week after its release date, the CD was on sale used.

But what kind of atrocious musical disaster could be so bad as to warrant death by the used bin so soon after its entrance into the world?

Perhaps the kind of music that is so inherently bland and lifeless that the only difference from track to track is whether a song is truly bad or just inanely boring.

Now in all fairness it's hard to blame Ms. Presley. Just imagine the life she led. Being the daughter of a legend has to be difficult, and it must create enormous pressure to succeed in life. Then those disastrous marriages just add to the equation. These are troubled times for the former lovely Ms. Keough-Jacko-Cage.

Then again, why is this woman recording? Let's face it, she has more money than everyone reading this newspaper combined will ever make in their lifetimes. What could she possibly hope to gain from this little experiment? Was it just so that when she eventually tours with Julian Lennon and Wilson Phillips -- and we all know that will happen -- the crowds will know one or two of her songs?

But this album isn't about her father or her "child-loving" ex-husband. No, no, it's about the music. It's not like Lisa Marie is posed on the cover looking eerily like her father or anything. I mean, that leather jacket, those deep-set eyes, that leering gaze, I'm sure no one even notices the startling resemblance.

What's clear is that if she really wanted this to be a success, Lisa Marie would have made original music.

There are just so many barriers raised so high by who she is that she really would have to do something strikingly new and refreshing to succeed.

Instead, though, she takes the listener through a drab list of 11 country-tinged pop tunes that stand among the most listlessly uninteresting music ever made.

And, oh yeah, there's a hidden tune too. Message to pop stars: the hidden song thing is getting really old. It was kind of cool at first, but when everyone does it, it's not surprising anymore.

The album is so ridiculously overproduced that even after a number of listens it's impossible to tell whether Presley even has a good voice.

Then again what else can be expected from an album with five songs co-written by Glen Ballard, the man who made the Dave Matthews Band sound less like the Grateful Dead and more like 'NSYNC?

The most exciting moment on the entire album comes in the first song "S.O.B." when Lisa Marie drops the F-bomb for the first time. Isn't it more than just a little sad that the only way Elvis's daughter can get a reaction out of her listeners is to use a four-letter word?

Aside from that, the songs just blur together into a mess of Lisa Marie crooning about all of her problems, whether it's her first single "Lights Out," the formulaic pop-country tune "Nobody Noticed It" or the I'm-so-misunderstood anthem, "To Whom It May Concern."

Presley is clearly more concerned with airing her psychological problems than trying to make good music, but I've got a suggestion for her.

What do you do when you have more money than you know what to do with and serious emotional problems? Get a shrink!

Or better yet, spend some of that money and forget about your problems! Just don't make music ever again.