Allow me, if you will, to describe an unfortunate phenomenon: the Aiken syndrome.

There's this little television program (perhaps you've heard of it) called American Idol. It's one of the best shows left on television these days: an honest-to-God talent search that's managed to weed out droves of cutesy milquetoast yawners like Josh Gracin and Diana DeGarmo in favor of vocal powerhouses like Ruben Studdard and Fantasia Barrino. (I never did like that Kelly Clarkson.) On the Idol stage, stars are born.

But then something happens: The Aiken syndrome sets in. Clay Aiken is a surprisingly good singer for a girly owl-lookin' dude from North Carolina. No, he didn't win the Idol, but he won our hearts (awww), so when his wienery solo album came out to terrible reviews and the constant laughter of polite society, people like myself wondered: What went wrong? Problem is, every single American Idol contestant who's tried to make the leap from the Idol stage to the industry at large finds out a cruel joke has been played on them: Once his or her CD hits the shelves, the auto-dialer approved magic is gone.

When the contestants sing on American Idol, they're crooning along to tried-and-true tunes of the past, and the people love it.

But when the winners make their own albums, somebody along the line sticks them in the same hyper-produced contempo-R&B wasteland with every other young urban-market singer out there.

What results is simple: A singer who millions love unwittingly spits in the face of their huge fan base by releasing a substandard product.

Barrino is the best contestant American Idol has ever seen, a genuine vocal stylist with reserve and style far beyond her years who could, with the right songs, very easily become the next Aretha (or at least Mary J. Blige). She absolutely stormed the stage week-to-week last spring, peaking with her breathtaking version of George Gershwin's "Summertime."

And now, after a few months out of the spotlight, she's back with Free Yourself, a predictable slice of J. Lo-style pop-soul that doesn't make good on half the talent Ms. Barrino showed week in and week out on the Idol this year.

You don't need to know the specifics of Fantasia's debut, aside from this: It's positively bedridden with the Aiken bug. Whoever thought the brassy Barrino, who could truly kill over some horns and a nice backbeat, would be well-suited to over-processed acoustic guitars, drum machine click-clack and Missy Elliott should start looking for new work.

True, her stripped-down version of "Always On My Mind" is gorgeous, and she does a lot better with these lousy songs than most would (no matter how dismal the material, the girl's got one of the best voices in music).

But hearing somebody with such obvious talent forced to be something she so obviously isn't almost makes you wish she hadn't won at all.

You think all those people who tune into the Idol week in and week out are expecting to find the new Ashanti?

No, no, no.

They're looking for the next Diana Ross, and in Fantasia, they found her, but trying to retro-fit a great singer into a sickly style is always going to lead to some unfortunate Aikenization. Next time, just put Fantasia in a room with any decent rhythm and blues bar band on the planet and let them wail.

With some tunes worthy of a voice like hers, you'd have a classic on your hands.

But as it stands now, she's just another casualty of the post-American Idol slump.