Let’s Pret a Manger and get it on…
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[6.50]
Nina Lea Oishi: Miguel promises us coffee in the morning, but Tamia has him topped with her pledge of a sandwich and a soda, which, when you think about it, is basically lunch. “Sandwich and a Soda” is the ballad of the supremely confident fantasy woman, one who’s knows she’s gorgeous but isn’t too uptight to pop open a Coke over the Egyptian cotton sheets. Tamia purrs, she struts (my God, the way she lingers on the Vs in “Chevy Nova”) until even the corniest lines (“I dig you hard like a metal shovel”), while still corny, ooze sensuality. She’s selling the Ultimate Guy’s Girl here, the babe who’s willing to give you a back rub while you watch the big game. And yet, I have to wonder if it’s not all completely fantasy. Ignore the Dream Girl aspect of the song and you’ll see: just like Miguel’s coffee is shorthand for the person with whom you’re willing to spend the morning after, “Sandwich and a Soda” is about that level of sweet comfort when it’s 3 p.m. on a Sunday and you’re both still wearing your pajamas, eating hoagies on the couch. It’s no Italian espresso, but there is something still wonderful about that.
[9]
Crystal Leww: Tamia, girl, you did eternal R&B jam “So Into You.” You don’t need this wet noodle song that interpolates “Country Grammar.” YOU DON’T NEED THIS.
[3]
Alex Ostroff: My brain automatically associates Tamia with 2003’s ethereal infatuation of “So Into You” / ethereal heartbreak of “Officially Missing You.” So “Sandwich and a Soda” — firmly in the flesh, on the ground and in her lower register — feels like an introduction to an entirely new singer. The Midi Mafia Mix of Missing You was loose but never this slinky. The metaphors occasionally approach levels of corny not seen since Miguel’s “Sure Thing” but, like Miguel, Tamia mostly sells the lyrics through the ludicrous.
[7]
Thomas Inskeep: Tamia goes the Tamar Braxton grown-and-sexy route with “Sandwich and a Soda,” to middling results, largely because it’s not sexy enough. And then there are the lines like “I dig you hard like a metal shovel,” which are actively unsexy. The groove is nice and simple, but the sum of these parts is like diet soda, empty calories.
[4]
Hazel Robinson: This isn’t earth-shattering or hooky enough to last in my memory particularly well, but it is absolutely pure, languid pleasure with enough of a sweet realism to the “sandwich and a soda” aesthetic that it never becomes overpoweringly cloying seduction. Like a nice spritz of JLo’s Glow when you were expecting Dior Poison.
[7]
Alfred Soto: Redolent of the last decade this production might be, I have time for staccato two-note rhythm beats and the Ashanti way of doing things.
[7]
Brad Shoup: It’s practically one giant chorus, and her reading of the title’s worth a ton of goodwill on its own. Who’s the bassist? I owe them a Royal Crown.
[9]
Micha Cavaseno: Pop & Oak’s groove is rubbery and humid as hell, making you want to shut your eyes and collapse while Tamia is having plenty of fun being seductive and coy. I just wish “bring you a sandwich and a soda” sounded as rewarding in my mind as she was selling it.
[7]
Katherine St Asaph: It’s the title. You couldn’t make a non-silly extended metaphor of it, nor would it do to get more specific (avocado panini, two-liter seltzer, my heart is yours.) A little toss-off at the end of a sumptuous chorus is ideal — but it’s got the rest of the lyric to register against, the Chevy placement and metal shovels and “Down Down Baby.” It’s too many images to sexify, and the result is silly, not seductive. Which is a shame, because the track otherwise smolders.
[6]
Madeleine Lee: This song is so timeless-sounding that it can make a Chevy Nova seem contemporary, and Tamia is so charming that she can make a clunker like “I dig you hard like a metal shovel” as light as air. But when it comes to convincing me that some stuff between some bread could ever be as satisfying as people say it is, you’ll have to work harder than this.
[6]