At least he’s not stressed out…
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[4.14]
Rebecca A. Gowns: This song is like the equivalent of running into an old college friend in the grocery store, one you lost touch with but you’re delighted to see again, and she says she’s here with her fiancé, then the guy with his head in the freezer section pops out to say hello, and it’s that one awful guy that you knew in college, the one that would somehow keep getting invited to parties even though all he did was talk over other people and inevitably offend someone. So all you can muster is a smile and “Oh! Hello!” and shake both their hands, reserving the warmer smile and more tender touch for your old friend. They fill you in on their lives in the past ten years, and you do too, and even though it seems like you’re going deep into a tunnel of nostalgia, mere seconds are passing by and all the details being shared are superficial. You want to open up more, but you don’t feel like you can with this guy right next to you; and I mean, maybe he’s changed, in fact, you’re pretty sure he’s changed, cuz we were all kind of assholes ten years ago, when you think about it, and if he ended up with her and picking up frozen berries and kombucha and artisan cheese, how bad can he be, really? Or is this more about the banality of evil? Or, really, the mediocrity of mediocre men? You realize you’ve all been standing there quietly regarding each other just a moment too long, and you’re the first to exhale — “Well! It was nice to see you!” You promise you won’t be a stranger, but exchange no contact information. You make a mental note to try to look her up on Instagram when you get home. Maybe you can message her with your number. Maybe you can grab a coffee while he’s at work. Maybe the two of you can re-connect and share something with real substance.
[3]
Alfred Soto: He admits to not knowing things, doesn’t affect humility, and cedes enough song space to a not bad Kesha — a good dude. But if “Good Old Days” has a sapient musical detail or ear-catching line I’ve missed it.
[4]
Will Adams: “Good Old Days” takes a quiet approach to nostalgic yearning, which is nice, but the song never finds its release, instead dimming to one last chorus at the end. The only thing keeping this score from going any lower is the idea that we were likely spared a Macklemore feature on Rainbow.
[5]
Nortey Dowuona: Nice. Soft and pillowy piano; slight guitar stabs; fuzzy strings; popping little drums; and low, chilled out bass — oh, and a choir! Kesha lifts it. Mack stays out of the way.
[6]
Stephen Eisermann: There’s a difference between knowing your strengths and releasing the same type of song over and over again. It’s a thin line that many artists struggle to balance on and Macklemore absolutely fails at it. Too often, his songs have the same message, the same sound, and are composed in the same formulaic way. This is no exception, even if Kesha’s melancholy turn on the chorus digs a bit deeper than most Macklemore features.
[4]
Ryo Miyauchi: The type of rap music Macklemore deals with is one ripe for mid-age musings. And it’s been 12 years since his last album bearing his name solo — he was 22 then, 34 now — so if there was an opportunity to look back at the good ol’ days while seated in his backyard chair, this year should be fine as any. That said, “wasn’t that, like, not that long ago,” was my first response to all this, before I did the quick Wikipedia search on his exact timeline. Put in work, he did, but his imprint on the public consciousness, his run with Ryan Lewis on The Heist, still hasn’t yet receded far enough into the past for this reminiscence to echo like the grand memory he shares it as.
[4]
Jonathan Bradley: Because it’s still 2013 in Australia, Macklemore spent a good couple weeks recently as a flashpoint in a culture war here. Slated to perform as the showcase entertainment at a national sports championship game was this white rapper — so fitting a guest for our distinctive national brand of insecurity and mediocrity: even with his declining commercial stock he retains the imprimatur of a foreign passport. Macklemore landed to tumult; he planned to perform his pro-gay rights single “Same Love,” one of his biggest and most anodyne hits, but for a nation undertaking a farce of a public survey supposed to eventually deliver marriage equality but designed in reality to stave off the prospect for as long as possible, the Seattle rapper found himself reinvented as a prominent spokesman for a headline civil rights cause. It’s never been easier to feel good about Macklemore than when his mere presence antagonises the revanchists of the right-wing, so “Good Old Days” is a handy reminder of what a schmuck he is outside that context. He delivers these reminiscences in reverent spoken word, as blandly and generically emotive as the accompanying soft-pressed piano chords, which prod as if that action alone will nudge feeling into being.
[3]