Now

This is a record bursting with indecision and excess, but that excess is revealing; we're shown more of Shania's emotion than ever here. It's enough to make Now one of the best pop albums of the year.

The songs are forgettable odes to familiar topics--home, heartbreak, dusting yourself off and picking yourself back up--that wouldn’t get a second glance if they’d been penned by someone less famous. Add to that some horrifically hackneyed clichés.

Those who would disparage her for not sounding like the “old Shania” are missing the point of this album--and with songs this good, they’re missing out, too.

What was promised to be Twain's 'very, very pure' album is anything but. ... A terrible album.

Now is a strong comeback that plays to Twain’s strengths, but it could have done with some more of her feisty, Brad Pitt-skewering self, and fewer inspirational metaphors.

Producers Ron Anielo and Matthew Koma stick to the formula. And it's not enough. [Oct 2017, p.94]

It all sounds great, too, with contributions from a vast array of players and producers, including Matthew Koma, Jacquire King, guitarist Greg Leisz and fiddler Gabe Witcher. The problem is Twain’s singing. ... [Her voice is] lower and less flexible than before, and that works out OK in the slower, moodier stuff here. That’s not the case, though, in the uptempo material, which feels flat and robotic.

Now feels fussy, as if every element was triple-guessed because the pressure to have a triumphant comeback was too great.

The whole album feels like it has been flattened out for the sake of streaming services. Without the big, chewy hooks, the songs tend to bleed together indistinguishably in hindsight.