The venerable institution keeps plugging along…
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[6.90]
Dave Moore: In which Reba suggests what Miranda Lambert might sound like if she’d turned to Ben & Jerry’s instead of Gunpowder & Lead. I guess the point is that either way you get over it, but I imagine one of them is more satisfying.
[6]
Doug Robertson: Does Reba McEntire try to sound like every female country singer ever, or is every female country singer ever trying to sound like Reba McEntire? It does seem like Reba’s more than happy to try and sound ever more Reba-ish, enthusiastically giving the audience what they want without ever allowing the 21st century to even begin casting its influence over her work.
[5]
Chuck Eddy: Reba’s the female version of Randy Travis or George Strait in that she peaked artistically as a “neotraditionalist” nigh on a quarter-century ago (“Whoever’s In New England,” 1986, to be exact) and she’s mostly rested on her laurels since. But listening to “Strange” now, I really do like its undulating Middle-Easternish psych chords (reminds me of the Yardbirds, or even more so “Pictures Of Matchstick Men”), and Reba rides the shakey stomp capably, OD-ing on chocolate after getting dumped and buying a sexy new dress to change her man’s mind like Lorrie Morgan in “Something In Red.” Her drawl is only slightly less polite than its by-the-book norm, and any number of current country women could have put over the lyrics more forcefully. But the music behind the diva has an undeniable churn, and it nearly carries the day.
[7]
Matt Cibula: I think I’m supposed to be upset by all the banging and clashing and thrashing going on in the background, or all the densely-packed wordifyin’ of the verses, but I’m choosing to instead just be thrilled by the toughness of Reba’s vocals and the song’s scenario.
[8]
Alfred Soto: Reba would like Carrie, Gretchen and Miranda to know that she’s been singing this passive-aggressive shit for twenty years, thank you very much. Something’s off, though: she tugs at the chorus too harshly for my taste; the arrangements are too loud, too busy. She wants you to notice the creative-writing details in the lyrics even when they’re decorating a dress we’ve seen too many times (the chocolates and the Kleenex are nice touches).
[5]
Martin Skidmore: I like the lyrics: she is telling us it’s strange she isn’t as heartbroken as she is supposed to be, and they are written with excellent scansion and wit, and she delivers them with confidence. I’d rather have heard Carrie Underwood do this, but this is fine.
[7]
Anthony Easton: Reba’s ability to know where country is going and historicise it should never be underestimated. This takes all of those young girls who keep trying rock and roll and puts them in their places — just as in her previous single, this needs to be sung by a woman, and an angry woman, to have the exact level of self control and desire for oblivion to work as a feedback loop of self-loathing and the Pyhrric potential of love gone wrong. Plus how she extends the vowels of the title into the upper register, how they sound strained but refuse the usual melodrama; the self-control of the whole thing has to be sung by a woman who knows what happens when that control is lost.
[10]
Martin Kavka: A woman finds herself oddly refreshed after being dumped. A listener finds himself oddly energized after three minutes, even though he knows that that energy is completely manufactured and therefore a lie. Who knows why these things happen? But they do.
[7]
Michaelangelo Matos: One of my favorite singles of 2008 — from an ’07 album — was Reba and Kenny Chesney’s “Every Other Weekend,” which loads of people who listen to country far more than I do assure me isn’t really that good. I dunno — it’s rare that a tearjerker actually works on me, and that one did. It’s kind of a relief to feel indifferent to this charger: nope, she can’t kill me with just any old lyric. Still, I think I need to dive into her catalog for real.
[6]
Ian Mathers:Note the rather mind-boggling fact that McEntire has been making albums since 1977. Rock acts that old that sound this vital and, frankly, fun, are few and far between (possibly because of the lack of bias in country against singing other’s songs, as it’s arguably easier to retain a good ear for songs over the course of decades than it is to retain songwriting ability), and it’s entirely due to the force and colour of her performance that I can get over the fact that I don’t think I actually like her voice. But in action, with those fiddles, singing a song about how she’s utterly unheartbroken by breaking up, it’s a sublimely perfect marriage of instrument and message. Songs of resilience are always better than songs of codependence.
[8]