Heartbreak and the circus seem rather unrelated — no, they are entirely unrelated. But for whatever reason, “Funhouse,” the latest album of (anti?) pop star Pink mixes these two polarities, and the result is as confusing and disjointed as it sounds.

Heavily inspired by the recent divorce from Carey Hart, her husband of two years, the album is packed with the “Fuck you, wanna fight?” attitude characteristic of Pink but also reveals a surprising soft side of the singer — you know, one that isn’t an outspoken, self-proclaimed bitch. Unfortunately her music only succeeds when she’s either being mean or gettin’ the party started.

Pink’s slower, emotional ballads are bad not because they stray from her more lively tunes —they’re simply bad because they highlight all of her weaknesses as a singer. Frankly, she doesn’t have a “pretty” voice, nor is her vocal range impressive. And she can’t exactly belt it out like Kelly Clarkson either. In songs lacking heavy instrumentals, a groovy beat and a lively tempo, Pink simply can’t compare.

That constitutes exactly half of her standard release album. Unlistenable tracks include “Mean,” an incredibly out of place country song; “Glitter in the Air,” a trite and melodically flat piano ballad; “Ave Mary A,” a weird pseudo-hymnal rock song; “Crystal Ball,” an empty acoustic song; and “One Foot Wrong,” which is reminiscent of Scarlett Johansson’s joke of an attempt at music. The album’s second single release, “Sober,” is another slowdown in which she has pseudo-deep reflections over just being herself. For a lighter rock song, one would do well to opt for Clarkson’s song of the same name.

So, send in the clowns, please, someone, because something is needed to salvage this album of awkward attempts at nearly every type of ballad. Soothing voice and high notes may not be Pink’s forte, but what she does have is charisma, a unique persona and rhythm. This is where her songs work. Following up her enormously successful single “So What,” which opens the album with Pink declaring “I guess I just lost my husband/ I don’t know where he went,” and continues to detail how she’s just going to have fun and “start a fight/… na na na na na na.”

The sassiness resonates again with a creepy, yet catchy circus-rock melody in “Funhouse,” a groovy yet tense dance-rock song about how what was previously fun has turned to shit (and “evil clowns”!), and the album’s best, “Bad Influence,” a hilarious, sass-fest about how badass she, is set to a dark and swanky jazz beat.

Even a few songs lacking the strange carnival music melody work pretty well, relying instead on Pink’s despair and bitterness of her breakup. “Please Don’t Leave Me” and “It’s All Your Fault” match lighter melodies to fast beats with background vocal and piano loops respectively, balancing nicely with the more sinister songs. And though half the album sinks under the weight of Pink’s unmelodic, heart-bleeding confessions, “I Don’t Believe You,” a naked plea of desperation, stands out as simple, raw and actually listenable.

“Funhouse” is an odd album. Neither here nor there, the variety of genre and quality of songs is almost absurd. Pink doesn’t have to limit herself to just one sound, but her latest shows she should at least stick to what she does best. Buy the “fun” tracks on iTunes and skip the rest of the cringe-inducing, empty sob-songs.

2 1/2 stars out of 5