Thus ends our love affair with this Jukebox fave.
[Video][Website]
[4.00]
Brad Shoup: Seems pretty clear that Paisley’s mainstream critical plaudits have fried his motherboard. He doesn’t know where to go — lighters-up country ballad? Heartswole beardy Midwestern hipsterism? He crams in the solo as a reminder that he’s got chops, but chops were always a welcome reminder, not the penny on the tracks. The song hovers on its own gas and never comes down.
[4]
Alfred Soto: The most facile of songwriting devices, The List reduces complexity to banality — with a little sex in it. “Sunshine mixed with a hurricane” on second hearing is a dumb and offensive way to think of a lover: beautiful but destructive? Paisley’s such a gentlemen that he probably says “bum” instead of “ass” (I want him to say “tits” just to know that he can). As usual his prickly guitar talk is the aural equivalent of thorns in roses, and his singing is as empathetic as ever, but oy.
[5]
W.B. Swygart: Has anyone got a list of Ways In Which Brad Paisley Indirectly Evaluates Women’s Breasts? It’s just that, given how firmly he puts his back into “SheeEEEE destroys me in that T-shirt”, it feels like someone must be keeping one, and it’s probably quite lengthy. Anyway, usual Bradtacularity here, five parts shucksiness to one part Secretly The Best Guitarist In The USA; hard to hate, but difficult to do much else with either.
[4]
Patrick St. Michel: For a while, Brad Paisley’s versatility was one of his best attributes, able to deliver funny songs capable of winking at country stereotypes to big dramatic ones steeped in Southern imagery. Recently, though, it hasn’t been quite as captivating – he’s been a half-assed Tumblr post at times, and a total cornball elsewhere. “Perfect Storm” is something else, something worse: a ballad sorta resembling Florida Georgia Line’s “Dirt” but with a Of Monsters And Men CD sitting on the dash. It’s a nice background tune for some dude’s engagement slideshow, but Paisley is capable of way better.
[4]
Micha Cavaseno: Warnings of floods of saccharine that threaten to take our houses and families away in the brutal carnage. Doesn’t have the impact of a flood but it certainly leaves one sopping in dude’s amazement.
[3]
Josh Langhoff: At this point I’m mostly listening for the guitar solos, because there’s not much else. I’d say this puts him in the august company of early ’80s Phil Keaggy or Gary Cherone-era Van Halen, but I never listen to them. He should’ve gone full “November Rain” at the end.
[3]
Rebecca A. Gowns: The intro indeed sounds like a storm — a disoriented mishmash of musical snippets that brings to mind having a few YouTube videos open at once. The metaphors come in swift ‘n’ mixed as well; gotta love that chilly burny bourbon + leisurely drive that turns into a fast race + a song AS WELL AS a mixtape + sunshine + hurricane + beautiful angry + girl in a t-shirt + girl of a lifetime. Like, whoa, dude. Are you dating a real live human lady or just calling out the images flashing by you as you scroll through a pre-teen’s tumblr? Not that the lyricism is the worst, per se. The pure melodrama of “she destroys me in that t-shirt” is enough to set this song apart from any other 6th-grade-poetry-contest on the radio. Like, I can’t wait for Brad Paisley to arrive at her house to take her out to a nice restaurant, see her in a dress and jewelry, and spontaneously explode.
[5]
Edward Okulicz: Singing about a girl who’s a perfect storm.. after laughing all the way to the river bank a single or two ago, it seems clear that Brad Paisley is now writing novelty Valentine’s Day greeting cards.
[4]