We’ve all said things we regret. When Sheryl Crow announced in 2019 that her eleventh studio album, Threads, would be her last, it seemed as if she was going out on a high. A 75 minute long record, packed with A-List guest stars like Eric Clapton, Keith Richards and Emmylou Harris amongst others, the stage seemed set for Crow to enjoy her retirement.

Except it didn’t quite turn out like that. Two years ago, Crow reappeared with Evolution, one of the weakest albums of her 30 year plus career. And now, we have Pick You Up, which comes across as a bit of an oddity – a seven track, 25 minute long record that could probably be better described as a EP than one of the long-playing variety (it was, apparently intended as an EP until the final track, Freedom Bus, was added).

And, a bit like Evolution, it’s another album that sees Crow firmly coasting on auto-pilot. The sentiments are lovely – the album’s themes cover recovery and healing, left leaning politics and freedom. The trouble is that it’s all a bit too gentle and middle of the road to make much impact.

It’s all beautifully played and performed of course. A weeping pedal steel guitar ushers in opening track Freight Train. It’s nice and atmospheric, but there’s no real hook, which is a surprise given Crow’s expertise in pop-rock anthems. Perfect is a bit more muscular and harks back, musically at least, to the glory days of Tuesday Night Music Club. An ode to imperfection and taking your lover as they are, it’s definitely one of the better tracks on the album.

Flat Earth is more political, with lyrical themes of the destruction of the Amazon and, closer to home, police brutality. This isn’t a call to revolution though – Crow’s delivery sounds weary and tired – “it makes me want to stay in bed, pull the covers up and watch an old movie instead” may accurately describe how a lot of people feel these days, but it doesn’t make for particularly inspiring listening.

I’ve Got Your Number is more rootsy, a laid back bluesy rocker which is engaging enough to ignore some slightly cringy lyrics like “I used to be the queen of sexy, kissing strangers who say they’ve met me” but Pick You Up is a bit too generic pop-rock to make much of an impression. It’s a problem that plagues the album in all honesty: while it’s all pleasant and makes for good background listening, there’s too much of a tendency to drift into formula.

The final track, the recently recorded Freedom Bus, is one of the better tracks, a collaboration with rock-folk singer Jesse Welles. Some may find the lyrics a bit too simplistic (“don’t be an asshole, let everyone be”) but it’s a song that’s delivered with humour, rather than rancour. Whether that’s the right approach in this turbulent world is up for debate, but it makes a nice closer to the album.

Then, just as it feels as if the album’s getting into its stride, it’s over after just 25 minutes. Hardcore fans will be more than happy with this brief interlude, but compared to Crow’s glory days of the late ’90s, much of Pick You Up feels a bit inessential.