Music Review: How The Chicks sort of got their groove back

The Chicks, 'œGaslighter'ť (Columbia Records)

The newly minted The Chicks pull a phoenix-like move with eighth studio album 'œGaslighter.'ť

The Dixie Chicks have died, long live The Chicks. In a stunning act of double re-invention, the country-pop trio have changed their name and re-emerged from a 14-year hiatus and personal turmoil with their new album - one that feels so private it's almost as if you are there, nose-pressed, at steaming lead singer Natalie Maines' windows. The artist - who worked through her feelings about her divorce from actor Adrian Pasdar creatively - commits an act of immolation of her marriage so radical, it bursts through every lyric on the record.

The Chicks' two singles from the album, the title track and 'œMarch March,'ť envelop one in their up-tempo; the former with its bop-y, almost playful drums, and the latter with its dramatic, synth-y waterdrop effect that makes one forget its call to arms intent. They burst through with vigor and the promise of an energizing re-invention.

Instead, the 12 tracks are a deconstruction and reconstruction of emotions that sometimes drag with its quiet, ballad-heavy set.

It will save many broken hearts along the way, taking this country theme to a new, almost quantum level. The Jack Antonoff-produced record's low key instrumentals - lots of strings in 'œTights on My Boat,'ť 'œYoung Man'ť and 'œSet Me Free,'ť banjos in 'œSleep at Night,'ť the touch of the violin in 'œJulianna Calm Down,'ť a dash of church organ in 'œMy Best Friend's Weddings'ť - and stripped down vocals make for a curious Schrödinger's cat of a record. For the most part, the feelings of the lyrics are tampered down by the music: the anger is there but it's not there, the sadness is there but it's not there. The Chicks have worn their heart on the sleeve, but they're afraid to move on and have fun.

After all, they've all been burned before.