Hey, did anyone ever tell you you look like…?
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[5.00]
Katherine St Asaph: I don’t remember much country of late being this bluesy in sound or lyrics, except possibly the Pistol Annies. Unfortunately, Sweeney doesn’t seem to know; I’d love to believe her character doesn’t realize how miserable she is, but I think it’s just Sunny.
[5]
Sally O’Rourke: The guitar and fiddle try their damnedest to rock out within the limits of Nashville-prescribed tastefulness, but Sunny’s wan, non-committal vocals suggest she’s unaware the lyrics call for ass-kickin’ and hell-raisin’. If this is what drinking herself single sounds like, maybe she should try drinking herself doubles.
[5]
Jonathan Bogart: I guess I didn’t realize how much I’d missed hearing an actual country rave-up (as opposed to Bon Jovi with twang) in a really long time.
[8]
Brad Shoup: I’m glad to entertain a proper boot-scootin’ blackout on the charts, but it’s a shame the opening guitar snarl gets buried under a trad arrangement in which guitar and pedal steel exchange the same old solos. The title’s a red herring: the song is fascinated with the sickly aftermath of revelry. Sweeney’s more bemused than pissed, yielding a so-so portrait of a dysfunctional relationship that ain’t any closer to fixing.
[4]
Alfred Soto: I admit it: I gave this an extra listen because it’s Sweeney and not Eric Church. Her immobile voice sounds resistant to every indulgence, including the overstuffed arrangement. She’s like the straight A student who lets herself gets talked into taking a shot by rowdier friends.
[4]
Anthony Easton: I like her better when she is sad.
[4]