On “Shine,” Martina McBride’s Luster Blazes Brighter Than Ever

Martina McBride

Shine

I grew up in two small towns in Southwest Minnesota – Jeffers (population 400) and Windom (population 4,000) – listening to country music. One of my mom and my all-time favorite artists then (and now) is Martina McBride. To this day I have fond memories of my seven year-old self sitting in the backseat of my mom’s car, belting, “Independence Day” and “A Broken Wing” to the radio.

As a little girl, I played with Barbies all day long and pretended I was Martina, singing her songs loudly and proudly in my playroom, which had wooden floors and great acoustics. I remember thinking, “Someday when I grow up, I’m going to move to Nashville, Tennessee and sing in bars with my country band! Then after I get discovered and signed to a major record label, I will tour all over the world on my tour bus with my husband (who will also be in the music business) and our beautiful children!” I loved Martina so much that I even cut sacrificed my long hair for the sassy, short hair-do she was sporting at the time, and wore it that way for almost a decade.

Since those early karaoke simulations and my me-Barbie-as-Martina-as-me adventures, Ms. McBride and I have both become better singers, and I can’t help but blame at least some of my improvement on the lady. After nearly 15 years in the music business, I still carry her songs in my soul–and my burden isn’t getting any lighter. Each of the ten albums she’s released since 1992 has inspired me in any number of different ways: Co-produced by Dann Huff and tracked by engineer, co-manager and husband John McBride, Shine is no exception.

While I can’t yet predict the final outcome, “Sunny Side Up” and “Ride” already often help keep my day aloft, while power ballads “Walk Away” and “Lies” subtly rip my guts out. “Humans are sweet as honey,” she declares in the latter, over an emotionally-charged piano piece and crying violin/cello orchestration. “Usually life is fair/Purple is a shade of money/And Jesus doesn’t care/Humming birds can’t fly backwards/Lovers don’t say goodbye/Saturn has seven rings/And I have never told a lie/I don’t walk these halls/And I don’t climb these walls every night/And I don’t cry/And even though I’m waiting by the phone/I don’t want you to call/I don’t miss you at all/Lies.” By illustrating one woman’s struggle with loss so adroitly, she might as well be plopping a pair of size 74 boots in front of America’s country singers and songwriters and daring us to try filling them. [kml_flashembed movie="http://www.youtube.com/v/p9iT9WFoqAQ" width="425" height="350" wmode="transparent" /]