If, as I suspect, there’s a rule somewhere in the music business that artists can’t make classic heartbreak ballads the way they used to, then Trisha Yearwood is the exception. (Sorry, Fergie, your use of "Uno cards" in "Big Girls Don’t Cry" makes you ineligible for such kudos.)
Yearwood’s latest, "This Is Me You’re Talking To" is the musical equivalent of getting hit in the torso with a bag of oranges. Your friends and coworkers won’t be able to see the bruises, but listen to it once, and you’ll be hurting for the rest of the day. And I mean that as the highest possible praise.
Every word from Yearwood’s mouth falls like another teardrop into a glass of gin: "Me, the one who really knows you/Me, the one whose heart you’ve broken/Me, the one who wants to hope/That you might be missing me." If "This Is Me…" doesn’t achieve the crossover success of Yearwood’s ubiquitous "How Do I Live," I say we take it to the streets and protest against the evils of corporate consolidation in the radio business. Who’s with me?