but HOW perfect…
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[4.22]
[1]
Micha Cavaseno: BJ is proficient as always, but predictably uninteresting. His attempts to sensually croon out his affirmation while persisting his proggish virtuosity shows the work of a boring nerd, thinking that sounding sensual is supposed to be sensual. It’s a Neo-Soul nude photo, hoping that you’ll be as impressed with the display as he is. And who knows, maybe you will, because it’s a very well-crafted song by a talented kid. But just know that they’re changing the name of the store to “Bed, Bath and BJ the Chicago Kid”, because he’s determined to remain handing out snoozer performances for the rest of his life.
[5]
Anthony Easton: The layering, repeating, and then layering those repeats over a smooth R&B beat, with the odd buried scream, makes this have an ominous tint.
[6]
Kat Stevens: Eeegh – “What Makes You Beautiful” is twice as creepy when presented as a slow-jam.
[2]
Alfred Soto: The thunderclouds of multi tracked harmonies stolen from Prince by way of Joni Mitchell thicken the textures, and on first listen it sounds sweet. But distrust a mush mouth reminding his beloved that everything’s okay.
[4]
Thomas Inskeep: More of that understated Drake-new-school shit, a good thing. Elements drift in and back out, like a staticky radio slipping between frequencies. There’s a little high-register Prince stuff, some sampled James Brown deep in the mix, and it all makes for an appealling gumbo.
[6]
Brad Shoup: I feel like we’ve left this you’re-pretty-anyway-baby thing for dead, but “now when you add it all up” could be as classic a case of off-the-rail intentions as anything I’ve heard in a while. Thankfully there’s graceful keyboard scales and the Godfather hollering and some sanded-down boom-bap: when they show up together it’s almost enough to cover up his too-much.
[4]
Crystal Leww: I was mostly okay with this until I was on the way home tonight and was listening to Tim Vocals’ “Thim Slick.” The production is essentially the same, but Tim Vocals singing about how he’s a male thot is much more compelling than BJ the Chicago Kid trying to tell me how to feel about my body. Seriously guys, Dash utters “dick muncher” in that song and it’s still better.
[4]
John Seroff: Any discussion of this song likely needs to start with the disclaimer that a more accurate title would be “Perfect Left-Handed Compliment”… who could resist hearing how perfect they are bookended by “no matter what they say”? It’s not simply a question of decorum of course; BJ’s bull-in-a-china-shop approach to the question of the male gaze pales even in comparison to his sometime partner Kendrick, who did this same schtick more cleverly (and without reference to the “itty bitty titty committee”) with “No Makeup“. Icky-ness of dubiously well-intentioned lyric aside, there’s plenty of interest here sonically: the throwback talk box and accompanying bluesy, clenched-tooth, slurred delivery; the winkingly muted “I Feel Good” exclamations; the lullaby piano (perhaps cribbed from “Africa“?) all have considerable charm. It’s a problematically pretty track; hardly perfect at all.
[6]