I feel a little bit like being West Virginia myself, sometimes.
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[5.30]
Pete Baran: There is no denying Blake’s 100% country voice, but its the delivery and humour that delivers for him each time. As a breakthrough artist, he is a little too obsessed with both defending and exploiting the tropes of country, and here he goes on a trip though an extended metaphor which ends up with him sticking his dick into her delicate petals. It is all done with so much good humour though that the journey to the entendre is thoroughly enjoyable.
[7]
Anthony Easton: I like Shelton’s voice, and I think I like Shelton being naughty more than I like him being sincere; he has a snarl that enthusiasm just shoves down. That said, I mean this is clichéd in places, and silly in others, and the Conway-Loretta reference makes me remember he once covered Twitty to great effect, and so I want him to do a little more of that…and so there are reasons to really not like this, but for some reason, I am seduced by his voice, and so the score reflects a lack of critical rigour on my part.
[7]
Alfred Soto: Responsible for “Who Are You When I’m Not Lookin’,” the year’s tenderest ballad, Blake Shelton owes me nothing more; instead, he performs a rocker with the right kind of crunchy guitar sound. The rote metaphors strengthen Shelton’s charm — a regular guy with regular looks who’s humble about a helluva voice.
[7]
Michaela Drapes: Granted, some of the parings mentioned in this song run from abjectly sexist (soft and sweet/strong and steady) to well, just kind of odd (Louisiana/Mississippi), but, you know, his heart’s in the right place, more or less. After all, Blake’s thing is songs with off-kilter lyrics; just wish he was crooning some deeper stuff with those killer pipes, that’s all.
[5]
Katherine St Asaph: Songwriter Rhett Akins claims he was inspired by Mike Huckabee’s name having all those pungent consonants and vowels, but that “shot of whiskey” line is totally about Miranda Lambert, and I refuse to listen to it any other way. Half the time when you write a song with this structure, though, it ends up with the evil shapeshifter murdering you. And the melody isn’t so much “a little country” as a little “Teardrops on My Guitar,” emphasis on little.
[6]
Martin Skidmore: Most of the country I like is trad balladeering, but I think Shelton’s strong voice is most effective when performing something more like rock ‘n’ roll. This has the now routine dreadfully old-fashioned rock guitar in places, but mostly it’s medium paced soft rock, with oddly unmacho lyrics (“I’ll be your honey bee”). Pleasant enough, but it doesn’t quite catch me.
[6]
Josh Langhoff: I’d say he misunderstands the particulars of honeysuckle fertilization, but he backs off: “That came out a little Country / But every word was right on the money.” Of course, that contradiction flies in the face of the recent Corbin-Paisley hypothesis that Country Must Always Speak Truth About True Things. My sensible and, it turns out, eight-months-pregnant wife is now explaining to me about poetic license. Herself no stranger to lies about bees, she once suffered a debilitating sting WHILE HOLDING STILL.
[5]
Brad Shoup: First I thought this song was about a merger, then I figured it was about teabagging, and now I’ve got no idea. Dude is married to Miranda Lambert, spends three hours a week sharing a set with Cee-Lo, and nothing rubs off?
[0]
Ian Mathers: “This might come out a little crazy, a little sideways, maybe.” Well, you sappy douche, leaving aside for a second that following up your perfectly normal metaphors with “yeah, that came out a little country” makes you the worst kind of dogwhistle douche (them cityfolk, they don’t compare their loved ones to flowers or sunsets or even a good stiff drink, nossir), what came out during the chorus wasn’t sideways or crazy so much as incredibly boring. Must try harder.
[2]
Jonathan Bradley: Shelton pours on the sugar for a big, goopy love song that brims with the same unabashed enthusiasm as Martina McBride’s “I Love You” or Liz Phair’s “Why Can’t I.” “That came out a little country,” he grins after the first chorus, but it’s all the better for that lack of irony or detachment. For the many, many approaches pop has taken in its treatment of the ups and downs of romance, effectively capturing the irrepressible joy derived from being around someone special is an art trickier than might be suspected. It requires, perhaps, bright major chords and corny promises to be someone’s Mississippi if only they’ll be your Louisiana. (I probably bumped up my score slightly just because I enjoy geographical metaphors that much. I even like the parochialism inherent in him choosing two states from the deep South, like, no way in hell would he be the New Hampshire to some woman’s Vermont!)
[8]