A
UN E WOOD
of Country Music Awards in April when
the vulnerability and surrender that Carrie
Underwood sings about in her current hit—
the title track of her upcoming album,Cry
Pretty—were writ large.
Underwood performed a powerhouse
rendition of the dramatic ballad—her first
live TV performance since a fall outside
her Nashville home last November left her
with a broken wrist and dozens of stitches
in her face—and then joined Keith Urban
to accept the award for Vocal Event of the
Year for his hit “The Fighter.” After a brief
heartfelt speech, as she walked off stage,
the camera caught a glimpse of the country
superstar letting real tears mingle with the
glittery ones painted on her face.
That sense of unguardedness informs
the essence of the new record, her most
emotionally accessible work to date. From
“Cry Pretty” to the naked vocal on the
bluesy, acoustic “Low” to the optimism of
“Love Wins” and “Kingdom,” it feels like
Underwood is embracing herself in a new
way: experimenting with her voice, some-
times writing in true first person. “I know
lots of artists that are just open books and
you can ask them anything,” Underwood
says. “They sing their hearts and souls. I
feel like I’ve never been great at that, just
in life even. My husband probably doesn’t
know what I’m thinking half the time. I’m
just a little harder to read.”
And that is why the Oklahoma native
has tended toward singing and writing
about fictional characters in her music,
from the Louisville Slugger-wielding
woman scorned in “Before He Cheats” to
the co-conspirator of “Two Black Cadil-
lacs.” “For me, it’s more comfortable to
write about a character than saying, ‘I feel
this way. I think this way,’ ” she explains.
“It puts you in the hot seat, versus ifCRY PRETTY
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