country

Reba McEntire, "Keep on Loving You" (Starstruck/Valory)

Twice on her new CD, McEntire begins a song in bed, incapacitated by heartbreak. The first time is on "Strange," her torque-heavy current single, which finds her working through Kleenex and chocolates before realizing her ex was nothing to self-immolate over, and then tossing off the covers. The protagonist of "She's Turning 50 Today" -- McEntire hit that milestone four years ago -- also isn't wasting time, spending exactly one day horizontally to mourn the death of a 20-year relationship. After that she wakes up, packs her things in the pickup truck and peels off toward a better tomorrow.

One's dignity need not dull with age: This is the main lesson of late-period Reba, which has been refreshing and robust, even if McEntire is a few clicks off the cutting, acerbic tone she perfected during her mid-1980s breakout period. On "Keep on Loving You," her spotty 25th studio album, her voice still has that slightly nasal quality that makes it sound always on the edge of a harangue, even though she rarely bares her fangs anymore. (A notable exception is "Maggie Creek Road," which is about, more or less, date rape and vigilante justice, the sort of song McEntire excelled at two decades ago, although here her temperature rarely boils.) Instead she's content affirming the country status quo.

JON CARAMANICA, NEW YORK TIMES

R&B

Erika Jayne, "Pretty Mess" (E1)

On this debut, Jayne makes no bones about emulating the luxurious, erotic sounds trademarked by Prince. She even covers Apollonia's hit "Sex Shooter" and enlists Sheila E's quaking drums on "Time to Realize." Influences are unavoidable, and Prince's ocean is many fathoms deep, but Jayne's obsession with one-note sexual fantasies keeps her bound -- albeit in satin handcuffs with feather trim -- to imitation instead of inventing her own style. We won't lose our bodies to the music if the singer sounds as if she's awaiting Madonna's approval.

There are some lively, inspired moments. The Parisian cabaret intro to "Everybody Wants Some" quickly scorches into hard-candy synths, and "Roller Coaster," with its risqué chants, will suit a frothed-up dance floor just fine, but "Pretty Mess" is too obvious. If only Jayne had played hard to get.

MARGARET WAPPLER, LOS ANGELES TIMES