Behind all the trademark attitudinal sass, Pink has a prodigious voice, and she's a lot more tolerable when she calms down and sings up. Her sixth studio album veers between two modes: workmanlike ballads delivered with beyond-workmanlike shading; and chunky guitar pop stuffed with shouty, bad-girl choruses. Unfortunately the second dominates, and includes Slut Like You (with a riff to make Kurt Cobain shudder in his grave) and Here Comes the Weekend, a dumb, martial stomp that seems designed to make anyone over the age of 13 feel prematurely curmudgeonly.