Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: The last time I reviewed Benny Blanco I called him “desperate and incompetent.”. The last time I reviewed a Selena Gomez duet, I called it “boring and unpleasant.” The first time I reviewed Gracie Abrams I called her songwriting “at once highly effortful and lazy as shit.” No further comment.
[1]
Leah Isobel: I cannot tell you just how much I was prepared to hate this. But instead this is serviceable-to-enjoyable pharmacy radio fare, featuring a Gracie Abrams vocal that convinces me she might actually have something vaguely resembling star power. I’m as surprised as you are.
[5]
Julian Axelrod: I bet they had a fun day in the studio! The guy from 100 gecs was there!
[5]
Nortey Dowuona: This is what Dylan Brady is doing with his time? Cashmere Cat, you deserve better. As for Gracie and Selena, why sound fearful and inert when you could actually try to be kind and sad? Also, the joke…was a choice.
[3]
Melody Esme: I knew that Brat’s impact would change things, but I didn’t expect a Selena Gomez song co-written and co-produced by Dylan Brady that quickly. The song’s fun — like The Replacements’ “Answering Machine” fused with “Break Up with Your Girlfriend, I’m Bored.” Sadly, the two angles cancel each other out, and the song isn’t as audacious or quirkily sad as you’d hope. Part of what I loved about “Break Up with Your Girlfriend, I’m Bored” is that it was so despicable it reminded me of Childbirth, that riot grrrl-ish band with satirical lyrics poking fun at the sleazier aspects of womanhood. This is like what would happen if the same girl Ariana was playing went to therapy. And now I feel like the toxic friend who’s like, “You were more fun before!”
[7]
Taylor Alatorre: Defend power pop! (Also defend the poor, beleaguered AABA form, though at least here they cook up a diegetic reason for stopping at an unfinished bridge.)
[8]
Katherine St. Asaph: The sort of song for which the term “ditty” was invented. Gomez premiered it with the caveat that “this song is actually about a best friend that I have in my life so it’s not about anything that you think it is,” and I genuinely cannot tell whether she’s talking about queerbaiting or Justin Bieber.
[7]
Will Adams: I couldn’t find a single interesting aspect of this song to talk about other than figuring out what the backmasked name in the intro is and whether there was any potential juiciness. But I didn’t even care enough about that to process the audio myself so I just Googled it. (It’s “zero.” Oh, well.)
[4]
Claire Davidson: I find it a bit cynical that, for their first collaborative single getting a real label push, Selena Gomez and Benny Blanco not only resorted to such a gossip-baiting title, but tethered the actual song to a guest verse from Gracie Abrams, a vocalist whose limited range is rivaled only by Gomez herself. To be fair, the basics of this song’s construction aren’t bad: the modestly energetic guitar that powers the verses isn’t especially innovative, but it provides a decent enough foundation for Selena Gomez’s cooing, and lends Abrams genuine momentum for her more charged verse. Therein lies the problem, though: a song with such a catty premise should at least have some urgency in its bid to break up an old flame’s new romance, but the majority of “Call Me When You Break Up” is so anodyne that it feels almost destined to serve as a nondescript playlist staple in Ulta stores across the nation. Really, only Abrams understands this song’s imperative, because while her lyrics may sound like a hyperactive rewrite of “You Belong With Me,” they at least steer the track in the right direction. That is, until the song makes a drastic swerve right at its climax point, when Selena Gomez reveals that, actually, she would be more than happy to support her ex if their new relationship is truly meant to be. That’s a sweet sentiment, sure, but it’s also one that renders the preceding minute and forty seconds wholly irrelevant.
[5]
Harlan Talib Ockey: Short enough it could pass for an ad in between the other music videos I’ve been watching. Selena Gomez’s vocal performance is so emotionally blank it barely registers as human; while Gracie Abrams’ part at least has some energy in it, it’s still a largely anonymous verse you could hear from any number of other Taylor-a-likes artists. Repeating “I’ll make it worth it” that many times is not worth it.
[2]
Jeffrey Brister: Yes, breathy pining over a nice clicky drum and plush synths, perfect, give me this for several minutes. Baby voice? No. Banished, begone, disappear, you have upset my delicate constitution.
[6]
Alfred Soto: This can’t be as mid and sometimes amateurish as Selena Gomez’s work in Emilia Pérez, I thought. Well, the Strokes could’ve recorded it in 2001 with the distortion sanding down articulation; Waxahatchee could’ve turned it into an energetically strummed folk rocker. Which is to say: no one stands out in this solid little machine. I do wish they had titled it “Call Me When You Break Up with Gracie Adams,” though.
[6]
Jel Bugle: Great stuff! More super word salad modern easy listening! (Is it really called “Call Me When You Break Up (with Gracie Abrams)”? That should be the official title as Spotify implies.)
[9]
Mark Sinker: I like when people are chirpy! But this seems very one-note.
[6]
Ian Mathers: Well, at least it’s short!
[5]