We’re finding it hard to believe…
[Video]
[5.12]
Austin Nguyen: Infatuation in all the familiar ways: Bruno Major’s guitar, the sleepy-eyed daydreams of Daniel Caesar’s verses, Honeymoon Avenue-era sway, the harp scales from “Focus,” Gallant’s falsetto when wondrously floating. If “Heaven” is nothing new (save for the strings that seam everything together), it still swirls around the flowers in the spring air, not a petal out of place.
[6]
Katherine St Asaph: Retro-soul revival not of the spangly Bruno Mars school, but the pillowy Daniel Caesar school. However, this is 2021, and the 6/8 lurch and swirling strings now inevitably call to mind an unsleazy “Earned It,” which is to say “Earned It” without its point.
[5]
Vikram Joseph: “Heaven” sounds like falling asleep in the sun and waking up to find that you’re dehydrated, your friends have left, and your ice cream has melted. Pink Sweat$ is in love, evidently, but this saccharine lounge-lizard R&B jam is a dull approximation of it.
[4]
Oliver Maier: A beautiful vocal from Pink Sweat$, but as with “Blueberry Eyes”, there’s something off-putting about the twee arrangement and spotless production. Kitschy instrumental touches (a harp here, some plucked strings there) make his romantic ideas feel received rather than organic, like he’s serenading me with an earpiece in. In theory the guitar solo at the end should have the same effect, but somehow it cuts through and convinces me. If 90% of “Heaven” is a Valentine’s Day e-card, at least 10% feels vaguely human.
[4]
Samson Savill de Jong: I want Pink Sweat$ to be my boyfriend, just so he can hold me at night and whisper comforting things into my ear. This is as good as I’ll get. I think, but I’ll take it. Also. that guitar solo comes just when I might’ve accused the song of not going anywhere, and completely crushes that idea by taking the song to a whole new plane.
[8]
Alfred Soto: The drum taps, organ, and guitar licks — the elements for cryogenic soul sit in place. The vocal lists and cracks in an attempt to soar.
[5]
Thomas Inskeep: Pink Sweat$, I remember Anthony Hamilton, and you, sir, are no Anthony Hamilton: better singer, better songs. And get the fuck outta here with this overproduction and those strings.
[2]
Scott Mildenhall: Gentle but not slight, “Heaven” deftly dodges the pitfalls of repetition. Pink Sweat$ is too lush a vocalist and the instrumentation too well arranged to ever let down its robust contention that less can be more.
[7]