To which the proper response is “penny for your draughts.”
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[4.82]
Katherine St Asaph: Lana and Sia’s pop ascendance has opened a niche for Rexha and her Flubber voice. Meanwhile, Avicii’s True gave her the template: a country conceit, down to the last drink, turned into an ADM breakdown unfortunately reminiscent of the Bieb. I’m a little horrified I’m saying this, but I preferred her with Pete Wentz.
[4]
Micha Cavaseno: Because one Lana Del Rey wasn’t enough to suffer. Except this one didn’t realize that it’s the whole package of the melodrama that sells Lana (to people who apparently fantasize of being unhappily married to dudes who look like Yelawolf), and her weak song concept here finds its apparent partner in some downright ugly dubstep crud. Whatever makes folks happy, I suppose.
[1]
David Sheffieck: If Taylor Swift’s going pure pop, she’s leaving a “I Knew You Were Trouble”-shaped void that Rexha’s both willing and able to fill: classic-country lyrics chopped to aphorisms meeting pseudo-dubstep drops, pitch-shifted vocals and a triumphant/elegiac outro. Bless Tay-Tay’s heart for opening the door for Rexha, who takes the template and raises it to the next level.
[8]
Scott Mildenhall: It does appear that a perfumed Bebe Rexha intends to stay high all the time and swing from the chandelier, but to reduce this to that would do her a disservice. The elasticity she showed on “Take Me Home” is again present, only rolled in gravel and misery, and between that and the glorious, needling pain of the occasional strings and the time spent on the verge of descent into heady inarticulacy this could be spectacular. There’s a problem, though: a lack of anything in the way of a chorus.
[6]
Mark Sinker: There’s a liquid metal bobble sometimes in her voice that I can’t help thinking is machine-enhanced, and that’s the first thing; but even more than this I love the pitiless synth girders that manifest as the unleashed super-deluded her as she moves from words into woah-oahs, all fingertip lasers slicedicing heaven.
[8]
Alfred Soto: Vocal distortions I usually embrace with relief, but the way in which the hook gets stretched into the thinnest taffy while the rest the song boasts such blaring overstatement makes me reach for a gin and tonic.
[1]
Will Adams: Bad idea: coming up with song titles first. Worse idea: turning an annoying voice into the lead synth to drape over moldy dubstep.
[4]
Anthony Easton: I’m upset that she ruined a perfectly good Luke Bryan title.
[3]
John Seroff: “I Can’t Stop Drinking About You” is the sort of turn of phrase that sounds fairly clever the first time you say it, then grows a bit duller on each repetition. The song suffers the same problem. Hyper-bombastic cut-and-paste EDM echoes, hair metal percussion and an overblown pop formula drastically dilute the kick of the cocktail. To her credit, Rexha comes close to spiking the punch all on her own; there’s a trashy operatic fullness to her voice that evokes Amy Lee or Bonnie Tyler. Pity that the magniloquent production of The Monsters and The Strangerz drowns her out.
[4]
Patrick St. Michel: The drop is a total missed opportunity, as Bebe Rexha actually sneaks something somewhat fresh into the Ctrl-C start-build-explore-again EDM formula. The bulk of EDM-pop is either club hedonism or goofy troubled-relationship-blown-up-to-IMAX-size affairs. This touches on both of those tropes — drinking, some guy — but approaches both as more downtrodden, and her self-medication doesn’t sound pleasant. The violins are nice — but geez, when the build plunges down, it should be way more chaotic than the rinky-dink arrangement they settled for.
[5]
Brad Shoup: Maybe because I doubt the ability of alcohol to make the bad feel better — and I doubt anyone’s belief in the same, including my own — I read Rexha’s gruff refrain as bluster. The song’s nought to do with him, and all to do with the senseloss from a big tune and a deep glass. A human voice stumbles about, trying to be a synthesizer, lagging behind the action; a violin lows on the horizon, something wonderful and dejected to focus on. Just like on “Take Me Home,” Rexha overshades her vocal color and wills it into hyperreality.
[9]