Among other great accomplishments (chihuahuas-as-accessories, proving nobody looks attractive in night vision), one of Paris Hilton's enduring gifts to civilization is the development of cutesy taglines. Meeting the high standard of "That's hot," the serpentine socialite offers a new catchphrase on her much-anticipated debut CD. As booming bass echoes and handclap beats ricochet through the intro to opener Turn It Up, Hilton purrs, "Scott Storch," repeatedly, as though the mere mention of the superproducer's name will convince you you're listening to a true artistic achievement. Not so much. Though Storch and other heavy hitters do their best to craft reasonable facsimiles of a broad range of Today's Best Dance-Pop Hits, they can't hide the fact that Hilton's a shit singer who can't carry a tune even when the vocal melody is reproduced note-for-note in the arrangements. There's some fun bubble-gum here - Stars Are Blind is enjoyably vapid C-List No Doubt, and Jealousy's excoriation of Nicole Richie is awesome based on the bitch factor - but it requires blocking out the vocals and focusing on the production. For all Paris-the-album's guilty-pleasure cachet, Storch is the true star, proving "Scott Storch" may turn up on Urbandictionary.com as a metaphor for "making dance-floor hits by masking the limited talents of misguided celebutantes."