Cry Pretty

For her sixth studio album, Carrie Underwood has taken some modest political risks without changing her full-throated style. She knows what she’s good at, and Cry Pretty is full of the kind of songs that made her one of the most popular artists in the world.

At its best, she’s never sounded more vulnerable, or more willing to play within the definitions of country music. But it also means that when she pulls back, and falls into the costumes of others, it’s a little harder to accept the veil. ... It’s the second half of Cry Pretty where Underwood starts to truly lay her cards on the table--and where she soars the most.

The album is frustrating, with no middle ground, and the strengths don't quite make up for the weaknesses.

The singer, no surprise, sets off all kinds of vocal fireworks. But as the painfully familiar images in “Southbound” demonstrate--another pontoon boat?--the songs on Cry Pretty (most of which Underwood co-wrote) cast these emotions and experiences in such generalized terms that it’s hard to come away with a clear sense of a human in the world. TThe effect is of a gifted strategist trying to cover all her bases.

Underwood nails two tried and true country traditions: the drinking-to-death heart-wrencher (“Spinning Bottles”) and the faith-based, family-first hymn (“Kingdom”), proving both times that big, emotional ballads remain her bread and butter. Much of the rest of the album finds Underwood exploring pop and R&B sounds more than ever before. Sometimes, she’s successful. ... Sometimes, she’s not so successful.

Her voice as a lyricist (she co-wrote two-thirds of the songs) tends to drift just a little, with the more specific songs working better. With the thick production on the album, it models radio trends but doesn't advance them. Given Underwood's talents, it would be exciting to see her craft a character-driven album and some quieter production.

The songcraft is grade-A mall soundtracking, and credit Underwood’s mighty mezzo-ish soprano with selling even the lesser ones.

Here the bluesy “Drinking Alone” transports you to a smoky bar where two lonely strangers find each other above their beer bottles, while “The Bullet” is a strong and surprising anti-gun-violence message from a country star. But it’s Underwood’s considerable resilience that shines through here.

It is all gloss and shine, with sadness at industry-approved levels of maximum efficacy. Take 75% uplift, add 20% melancholy, top up with 5% not actually contentious controversy, and voilà: Cry Pretty.