…and not once does she rhyme it with Harrow!
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[6.78]
Anthony Easton: I should give it points for being queer-positive, no matter how bland and indirect that might be, and I should give it points for the vocals which are smart enough, and it seems generous enough, but considering the pedigree, I was surprised that it wasn’t more joyful or exciting. She can’t even say the word “whore,” which must be the most mild curse extant, and even the joint reference pales next to Eric Church or the Pistol Annies. This is the perfect kind of anti-bullying anthem for a generation raised on a kind of placid self-esteem, and it often refuses to do the difficult work of identity formation. At least Luke Bryan didn’t want a hug for preaching at me.
[3]
Alfred Soto: The album’s dullest metaphor gets the most lived-in performance, starting with the way Musgraves slurs the difference between “whore” and “horrible,” which convinces me she’s been accused of being both. The whistling suggests an attitudinal shift: a kid in the South can come out to collective shrugs. Liberty should sound this casual. But kids in the South — kids anywhere — dream about getting laid more than they get laid, which is why it’s a pity this idyll isn’t sleazier.
[7]
Edward Okulicz: I don’t love this song without reservations. One is that the way the assumed words at the end of lines are quickly changed into others makes it feel like a bad vaudeville routine. Another is that at times it feels like the song equivalent of a Very Special Episode late in its parent album’s running order. And it feels like the sort of song that I’m going to hate because non-country fans will say “This is really good, not like the crap that is the rest of the genre,” if you’ll excuse the straw man. But I do love the song, and those things I have reservations about I secretly love too. You can whistle along to it and you can air-tambourine to it while you march in a parade dedicated to marijuana decriminalisation or marriage equality. It’s carefully written and you can tell (check the rhyming scheme in the chorus) but despite that and the inevitable baggage of message, “Follow Your Arrow” is still both frothy and pithy.
[9]
Katherine St Asaph: If this crosses over, it’ll be half because of the lyrics, half because it doesn’t sound all that country; “Follow Your Arrow” is smiley and simple like the Shania Twain green version of a Kimya Dawson song, or perhaps the Lumineers (the whistling, the “hey!”s.) And the message isn’t as unprecedented as it might seem; country’s history is more replete with progressivism than a layperson would assume, and for that matter fellow Texan Kelly Clarkson had a rather similar track last year. But it’s nevertheless still welcome, and — as always — Musgraves’ sonnet-neat songwriting and knowing delivery, at turns droll, warm and wisecracking, make it far more distinctive than a hypothetical rural-Macklemore counterpart. Enough pedestrian crap crosses over as it is; why not this?
[7]
Iain Mew: The parallels with “Merry Go Round” are striking. It’s most explicit in the references in both to the front row of the church, but they’re clearly coming from the same place before that. “Merry Go Round” was about the depressing results of feeling like having no options, and though this time Musgraves plays things funnier, she still starts by going further and saying that even choosing the expected options is no good. When she turns that round into a way out with all of the hope previously missing, the change comes with not only a thoughtful and warm inclusiveness but also a song and half’s worth of relief.
[9]
Patrick St. Michel: In the wrong hands, “Follow Your Arrow” would be an absolute disaster. I agree with the central theme but that’s only because it would be ridiculous to disagree with “being yourself,” but this could turn groan-worthy quick. Imagine this message delivered over Dr. Luke’s bombast or ukulele strums (you can actually sort of hear the latter, and it’s the worst part of this song) — it would suck. Kacey Musgraves pulls it off because her country twang just sounds better (and at least makes some of the examples here more daring when placed in a country context) and she adds some flair to this thanks to her lyrical detail: “roll up a joint — I would!”
[7]
Crystal Leww: Pop songs about being yourself and forgetting the haters is an old trend. It makes sense that when Kacey Musgraves does it in 2013, it has to be both corny and yet weirdly aware of its corniness in order to not sound like it’s been done before. Examples of corniness include but are not limited to: the warping of “whore” to “horrible person,” the whistling, the “hey!” and “yup!”s in the chorus, and of course, the weird taming of “you only live once,” completely devoid and missing its Drakian context. This is one of the few times that corniness is completely and totally wonderful.
[6]
Brad Shoup: Hey, it’s the latest fuel cell for the Buzzfeed/Upworthy/Your progressive mom’s Facebook social-equality machine. I can’t say that I’m excited to see how these tensions get unpacked, especially from a listy country song apparently crafted to generate hundreds of YouTube uke covers. The concept of freedom shouldn’t sound like a shrug.
[5]
Andy Hutchins: In a perfect world, this is the soundtrack to an alternative prom scene on Suburgatory, or something. In ours, it’s just a really sweet affirmation that left-of-center free spirits exist in country, making music for other left-of-center free spirits.
[8]