There's no point expecting scintillation--even her new best-of doesn't have more than two-three zingers on it. So what's most irksome about this dull, bland megahit is what it says about the new Nashville. Reba has her pride, and "For Herself," written with two other women, remains an honorable female-autonomy vignette even after you forget the tune (a good thing, because the song hasn't ended yet). But genderwise she's about as adventurous as Clint Black or Alan Jackson--just right for a world where Wynonna Judd is a protofeminist heroine. C