To our London writers: any sightings yet???
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[4.50]
Thomas Inskeep: No, no, no. This sounds like MJB doing an Amy Winehouse song, for which I completely blame co-writer Sam Smith. “Therapy” is precisely everything I don’t want to hear from Blige.
[4]
Micha Cavaseno: Mary is not a good singer, but it’s one of those myths that Sean “Puffy” Combs invested a wise amount of dollars in to blindside all mankind. And, to be fair, her first two albums are classics that redefined R&B for a modern context. But to channel a young Keyshia Cole in a “Love”-era Power 105 interview, long before The Breakfast Club became a bilefest of humiliation, “*scoff* Mary can’t sing.” The abysmal arrangement, laughable songwriting, and garbage lyrics pale beside that one fact. I appreciate that all of the UK wants to save Mary’s career, be it Sam Smith or Disclosure or whomever wants some brief moments of credibility to have as a feather in their cap. But this is not a charity that needs performing.
[1]
Jer Fairall: Is the verb form of “therapy” a British thing, or just a Sam Smith thing? Mary J. doesn’t even sound sure, which is probably why she pronounces the title like someone anxious to show off the new word they just learned. She sounds like she’s trying too hard, in other words, on a track that itself is either trying too hard or not hard enough, its calculatedly slick “minimalism” thinking it can reach Classic Soul purely through subtraction.
[4]
Will Adams: So is “go therapy” supposed to be some syntactic equivalent of “go HAM?” Reading it as such is the only way to find anything redeemable in this bloodless and amelodic attempt at soul.
[3]
Megan Harrington: This is a dangerous rhetoric to pursue, but I can’t deny I’ve indulged in many a weak moment. Why do my laundry when I can lay in bed and eat Flamin’ Hots? Why take my morning shower when I can lay in bed and scroll through Twitter? Why go to therapy when I can lay in bed?
[7]
Patrick St. Michel: Geez, two therapy sessions a day? That’s some solid medical insurance she’s got. Anyway, glad Sam Smith is on the sidelines writing this time around.
[5]
Brad Shoup: The thing is, this is more soliloquy than therapy. Keep those gospel hummers going for five minutes straight, let Blige rehash her side of an argument, maybe keep her talking more than singing, and it’s all good. On the other hand, this discursive, sideways tribute to Amy Winehouse is what people call a “fascinating misfire,” and it’s no use dreaming of the grotesqueries that could’ve been.
[6]
Alfred Soto: Distilling more than a decade of psychoanalysis in song, “Therapy” doesn’t sound like the album the pre-release publicity has led me to believe. Halfway she tries to sing her way out of the fact that the chorus melody isn’t attractive, but the wordless humming over the intro and Blige’s bluesy low notes bespeak a new confidence. That’s how the Mary J. Blige Project has unfolded for twenty years.
[6]