“…and that’s the last time I use autocorrect.”
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[4.43]
Jonathan Bradley: My favored Jeezy guise is that of him as crack-slinging comic book superhero (“Trap or Die“), but, as a tune that would make better sense with Jeezy in the supporting slot goes, this is a pleasant Ne-Yo song. Which is not to say Jeezy’s contribution is ancillary: he has an apt ability to imbue plain-spoken narratives with a sense of inevitable tragedy. As his commercial fortunes decline and his voice grows raspier, he might be slotting into the role of a Southern answer to Jadakiss: deployed for the distinctiveness of his vocal tones, capable of turning in crossover hits that unexpectedly avoid pandering, but no longer able to produce consistent full lengths. I still like Jada’s street shit better though, and when I listen to latter-day Jeezy material, it’s the (Jada-featuring) “OJ” I first turn to, no matter how agreeable something like “Leave You Alone” is.
[6]
Iain Mew: The best thing about this by far is the contrast between Ne-Yo’s slick reasonableness and Jeezy’s gruff blurts of words. As it progresses and Ne-Yo takes over speaking for both, it loses tension and interest, with the narrative not enough to bring any back.
[4]
Anthony Easton: My friend Ray and I, talking about Cabin in the Woods, have invented the term “rococo technician”: an artist who has spent so much time thinking through the implications of a genre that their work is mostly a checklist of genre signifiers. Think Whedon for pop sci-fi, or Ryman for minimalist painting. If you care deeply enough about the genre, then working through the implications of the technique has its own rewards. If you don’t have enough interest in the genre, you can pick out bits and pieces here and there, but mostly you are isolated. I get the feeling that both Jeezy and Ne-Yo work in this category.
[5]
Jer Fairall: Jeezy’s always a thrilling presence, but he’s disappointingly muted here, taking a backseat on his own track to a truly awkward Ne-Yo, whose late-in-the-game turn from the maudlin to the raunchy (“I got her legs up by her ears”) at least provides this meandering track with an unexpected jolt.
[5]
Alfred Soto: Ne-Yo’s placed in the odd position of first mediating between the girl and Jeezy then substituting for him. This weirdness doesn’t mitigate the plodding beat and misogyny (you mean after he got her legs up by her ear she’s still gotta leave him alone?)
[3]
Jonathan Bogart: Stories about women who love bad men and the terrible things it does to them — as told by the supposed bad men — are boring. Everything else about this track is great.
[6]
Brad Shoup: There are a couple piano treatments here that got me smiling: the flanged sustained chords, and the recalcitrant-student pounding. As an indication of the quarter-hearted sentiment on display, it’s genius; this is one of the saddest defenses of a relationship you’ll hear this year (cf. “All I ask, let me just do me/And maybe just me and you can get along”). Ne-Yo flips the I Dream of Jeannie theme for the bridge — God knows why. If this really is the anthem, reconsider the actions that brought you here.
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