Another chance for us to atone for underrating “Whataya Want From Me?” Oh.
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[5.09]
Madeleine Lee: Lyrics by a Francesca Lia Block plot generator, music by a first-time DJ trying to cram in as many trendy sounds as possible in 3 minutes.
[3]
Alfred Soto: A world-class belter, Lambert needs an arena, imagined or otherwise, in which he can see ten or twenty thousand people shouting lyrics back at him. Theoretically I can’t see why EDM and his voice wouldn’t work, but the sequencer sounds like someone left a piece of gum in a jeans pocket in 2009.
[4]
Abby Waysdorf: Sounds like a Swedish Eurovision song. Which is a compliment, of course.
[7]
Edward Okulicz: I really want to like this, and I really want to believe Adam Lambert. Despite the expensive styling and shiny shiny hair, he’s maintained the ability to create a facade as if after a break-up he’ll never touch another man again, and that gives him an ability to sing as if the stakes are enormous. Lambert doesn’t have legions of devoted fans on the net for nowt; people feel something from him. And I want to feel it too, but he’s playing second fiddle to whistling here. That’s just a waste, because the middle-eight here gives him one of those big emotional moments of WOUNDEDNESS he was built for. Even though Adam Lambert is better-looking and more talented than me and is not going to spend eternity chasing after dudes who may or may not look like Brandon Flowers who ignore his advances, I want to relate to him. But the song won’t let me in because it cuts all of its good ideas off too soon in favour of the generic.
[5]
Micha Cavaseno: EDM Spaghetti Western music remains a surprisingly enduring shtick. I guess its a shame Morricone didn’t get a chance to work with Avicii, can you imagine?
[3]
Mo Kim: Deserted strands of acoustic guitar and Adam Lambert’s ruminations on his disillusionment give way to a tumblin’, whistlin’ reprise: James Dean cosplay gives way to a full-on costume party. I am very pleased.
[7]
Scott Mildenhall: “Lovers On The Sun” inverted; “Lovely Head” inflated to the point of bursting. Doom isn’t impending but pounding, a reminder that the eerie can still thud, and to great effect. Even then, it doesn’t forgo sparseness – “love is a satire” is pretty much the “for sale: baby shoes, never worn” of the Periscope generation. Pretty much.
[8]
Thomas Inskeep: Don’t care much for the whistley bits, but otherwise this does the work. On the surface I wouldn’t have guessed this is Max Martin’s work; it sounds more like high-end Avicii (he was good once, you know) scratching a pop itch without the stupid folk injection. Lambert sounds superb: touring with Queen seems to have strengthened his voice and made it even more elastic, and he was no slouch in the singing department to begin with. “Ghost Town” breathes, as opposed to the claustrophobic oppressiveness of much EDM/pop. And “my heart is a ghost town” is a highly effective lyric when wielded properly, as Lambert does here.
[7]
Katherine St Asaph: Simple, really: the verse to “Wrecking Ball” with a strobe beat grafted on and lyrics Frank Miller would find overwrought. The real ghost town is Max Martin’s creative faculties; house revival only matches his skillset when he can provide sterling melodies, none of which are here. As for Adam, he left his last label because they refused to release anything but an album of ’80s covers, now that’s a satire (except it’s real). That said, which would you rather him perform: dark fire from the ’80s, or this year’s half-digested chyme of the ’90s?
[4]
Jer Fairall: Lambert drops pompous referents — Elvis and God and James Dean, Hollywood as a “city of vampires,” and a dusty acoustic intro, a ghostly whistle on the chorus and the title itself all suggesting some vision of blasted Americana — with all of the overbearing pretension of Brandon Flowers at his most lyrically nonsensical, yet somehow Lambert’s performance has only a fraction of the queerness of a typical one by Flowers. Adding a chilly bass throb only proves that someone involved knew the sound of gay clubland in 1992.
[4]
Josh Langhoff: Every time Adam Lambert puts out new music, “Whataya Want From Me” sounds more desperate and more poignant, the unanswered question running through his career. But no! — I have shed all expectations raised by Idol, his continuing failure to fulfill its promise, and my poor treatment at the furious fingers of the Glamberts. (So I’m “an embarrassment to Christianity”! Well, yes. We should have a support group.) My beginner’s mind free from prejudice, I’m finally prepared to accept this piece of shit song on its face. You might say my brain is a reverb-addled ghost town, ready to be populated by idiocies like “Hollywood sold out.” (When? 1912?) But first this guy needs to decide what kind of song he’s singing — like, does “Ghost Town” need a chorus or doesn’t it? No more half measures! If he could stop flailing and sing a song that sounds greater than the sum of its cobbled-together pieces, or even if he could just develop a sense of humor about the cobbling process, he might get somewhere. Maybe he should go listen to some Queen.
[4]