Larry Grayson considers rewrite…
[Video]
[5.50]
Kayla Beardslee: Never ever in my entire life have I thought, “You know what I want to hear more of? Bruno Mars bragging about having sex.” And yet here he is, still going at it. The production is as smooth as a greasy pole and just as difficult to stay connected to — but what woman wouldn’t want to be seduced by a guy in a bathrobe telling her to shut her trap?
[4]
Hazel Southwell: Bruno Mars has been exclusively good for pastiche for a decade and Anderson .Paak has more than enough production nous to stop it going off the rails. This is swirly, gorgeous indulgence you can lie languid in a sunbeam like a cat to, and just as smug (but like that’s ever put you off the cat).
[8]
Oliver Maier: Mars and .Paak are united by an unwavering belief in their charisma, given which it’s surprising that a) it took them this long to collaborate and b) one song can withstand the weight of both of their egos. It’s a dud, not only because they are both truly, truly so insufferable, but because musically it is tacky and half-baked; most soul legends of yesteryear bothered to write melodies, rather than play connect-the-dots between chords. .Paak’s verses are whittled down from “That’s What I Like” and Mars’ hook is a feeble non-event. Instrumental flourishes are piled on to signal virtuosity and a kind of generic smoothness that bears no relation to actual sex or actual feelings, because this song isn’t about either of those things in the first place. Following in the 24k Magic template, it’s really just a song about how cool and hot and talented Bruno Mars and Anderson .Paak think they are, and if that worked for Mars in the past then it helped that the songs were better (or had a sense of humour). In fact “smooth” is just about the only compliment I’ve seen anyone able to muster for this song, because really what else is there to say when that’s the only thing it cares to convey? Smooth as in frictionless, smooth as in featureless, so smooth that Mars or .Paak could probably gaze at their own reflection in it for hours before looking up and realising she left hours ago. Was she ever even there? Does it matter?
[1]
Aaron Bergstrom: Needs a little less silk and a little more sonic. I know he’s not actually in the band, but it’s bordering on false advertising to make Bootsy Collins the face of your marketing campaign and then roll out a lead single completely devoid of funk. As a descriptor, “smooth” is only positive to a point, and we’ve reached it here.
[5]
Austin Nguyen: Ice cream-sticky nostalgia flavored with Rose Royce and Barry White for your ’70s sweet spot. And if you don’t have one, this is probably the song that was running through Katherine’s mind while she was trying to woo Mike in Desperate Housewives, notwithstanding Susan and the Oprah-reaction-meme-worthy “filet” innuendo. A romance novel cliché promoted with a :pleading_emoji: marketing tactic that made it seem like a Super Bowl performer could become a street busker not a decade later? Yes — and yet.
[5]
Rachel Saywitz: The problem with naming a musical group Silk Sonic is that its music doesn’t leave much to the imagination. There’s no doubt that Bruno Mars and Anderson .Paak weave a silk tapestry on their first single together, a smooth and sensual entreaty to join them for “kissing, cuddling,” and “rose petals in the bathtub.” Yet their eagerness betrays a superficiality to the whole endeavor: the chimes in their sonic mansion sound too bright, the strings too full, bringing an uncomfortable amount of light and warmth. Silk Sonic’s sweet falsettos drift throughout their grand mansion, but if you look too closely at its walls, you’ll notice flecks of gold paint that are too easy to scratch off.
[5]
Jeffrey Brister: What do you do when a song is merely good, rather than transcendent? Do you rate it lower by placing it in the larger context of one of its performers’ past work? Because this pales in comparison to “Uptown Funk” and “Locked Out of Heaven”, both of which pushed past their loving genre pastiche into legitimately incredible songs. And not to say the genre performance isn’t good — on the contrary! All of it, from the arrangement to the vocal recording to the general warmth of the production itself, nails that nostalgic, slightly incorrect remembrance of soul music. It’s like Shovel Knight: it replicates a modern construct of what our child-brains imagined NES games to be. But that all feels incredibly unfair to this very good song. Maybe the better way to criticize it is to try and separate it from the admittedly fantastic past work and evaluate the song on its own, which is really good! It showcases Mars’ biggest strength, which is playing the entire thing straight. But in light of past work, it just feels a little plain, even if what’s on offer is way above average.
[7]
Thomas Inskeep: Sure, this sounds like mid-’70s soul manqué, but when it gets it this right, how can anyone be mad? Anderson .Paak and Bruno Mars make for a dynamic duo here, and make me awfully eager to hear their joint album.
[8]
Katherine St Asaph: Bruno Mars is still a romantic, but not quite the same kind as he was. He started out as the leading singer of things you wish your boyfriend would say, and is now the leading singer of things a boomer thinks you wish your boyfriend would say. You know the idea: rose petals in the bathtub, surf and turf and wine, pools and robes, the whole soft-focus Skinemax aesthetic. And he is very good at what he does, whether that does it for you or not. As ever, Bruno cites musical history with endnotes; in addition to Anderson .Paak’s direct shoutouts — Michael Jackson, Jimi Hendrix — I hear the brothers Gibb and, weirdly but distinctly, Kate Bush via Maxwell (something about the coy line-endings in the verses is eerily Kate-like). He makes the arrangements plush beyond their years and beyond their purpose, like the silkiest, laciest, most sumptuous boudoir pillow that you’d have to throw aside for boudoir activities. Basically, he just tries so very hard at everything — but while that may not exactly be a synonym for romance, “not even trying” sure is an antonym. (I feel like I’ve done the “points off” thing too much lately, so I won’t dock points for Silk Sonic’s ridiculous, insensitive publicity stunt before the Grammys, though it was certainly both of those things. Maybe call it an asterisk?)
[7]
Alfred Soto: Like The Waste Land and Blondie, Bruno Mars albums come as footnote-first experiences, and only the committed will make the effort. The Teddy Pendergrass mirror moves are proficient, and Anderson .Paak gets out of the way. But other than as a show of proficiency and a peek into record collections I already suspected of being solid, “Leave the Door Open” doesn’t need to exist. Who is this for?
[5]