That Jessica Simpson has been groomed to become the next (as well as younger, whiter, and more virginal) Mariah Carey should come as no great shock. Production by slavish imitation is the way it goes these days, and wanting to duplicate Carey's success is understandable. Yet the downside of idol worship (Simpson grew up with the octave-conquering diva as a touchstone) is the loss of unique identity, and sadly that's exactly what has occurred. From the wordless sighs to the mock Spanish guitars added for international appeal, to the overwrought power ballads and faux hip-hop flavored up-tempo cuts, Simpson, who can sing, is a prisoner of by-the-numbers production and songs by the usual pop/R&B-lite suspects. The end result is sonically stellar, but is too close to a generic endeavor that do...