Do we agree on this remix-mashup-duet? Do we like “Sacrifice” or are we living in separate worlds? Let’s find out.

[Video]
[4.17]

Will Adams: Well, they were right about the “cold” part. Dua Lipa’s bloodless rendition of “Rocket Man” is proof that swiping classic pop hooks alone does not make a surefire hit. Meanwhile, PNAU’s leaden arrangement serves as a dispiriting reminder — even after last year’s electrifying disco resurgence (not to mention “Sine From Above”) — that, in our current pop age, all roads lead to chill.
[4]

Crystal Leww: I’m sorry but I still cannot believe that someone so devoid of personality like Dua Lipa somehow became the biggest pop star of our time. This collaboration with Elton freaking John (!!!) is so boring. 
[3]

Ian Mathers: There are some remixes that practically replace the ‘original’ version, but I think this is the first time I went looking for the non-remix to hear the difference between them and just… couldn’t find it. Given that Elton’s singing “Sacrifice” and Dua’s singing “Rocket Man,” both over a pretty straightforward (but well executed) dance chassis and some surprisingly vital live-sounding backing shouts, it starts to feel a bit like there is no original. And one of the small glories that keeps you (or at least me) listening to pop music is that… it works!
[7]

Alfred Soto: Rocket Man came out two summers ago. “Sacrifice,” although a UK #1 in 1990, is not anyone’s idea of top-tier Elton. Dua Lipa sings one of his chestnuts as if she’s reading the lyrics on Genius from her phone. I can’t dance to it. Who is this for?
[2]

Wayne Weizhen Zhang: Elton is a goofball with a habit of appearing on random tracks he has no business being on,whether it be the camp pastiche of Fall Out Boy, the heartwarming affect of Rina Sawayama, the loopy fun of Young Thug, or the bizarro transcendence of Lady Gaga. But against most odds, these collaborations have worked. Unexpectedly matching the style of someone else’s work in an unexpected and exciting way, Elton’s additions have been pleasant, if odd surprises. “Cold Heart,” unfortunately by contrast, doesn’t hit because it sounds too much like the reheated leftovers of an (actually iconic) Elton John song. No one needed to update “Rocket Man,” and while the source material indicates a high floor, this version certainly is too half-assed and languorous to compare to the original. 
[5]

Scott Mildenhall: A successor to the painstakingly conjured masterpiece Good Morning to the Night has reportedly been in the pipeline since its release, and so as welcome as “Cold Heart” is, it smacks of homework done the night before it was due. It’s obviously savvy — if you can get a massive popstar to pitch in then people will listen — but appreciably less ambitious. Nonetheless, it’s still a curious collage set to PNAU on autopilot, and shoorah, shoorah, that is still colourfully weird enough to be happy about.
[7]

Tim de Reuse: How do you get those two names to fit together on a track? PNAU’s trick: supply a four-chord house loop so utterly utilitarian, devoid of nameable characteristics, that the two big personalities have an acre of sonic space each. I think they overestimated just how much energy the two stars would put into their performance, though; the result goes down smooth, but it barely develops the one flavor it’s got.
[5]

Austin Nguyen: Elton John’s career continues to taper off into Snoop Dogg side-questing for collabs with the next generation of gay icons, passing off the torch (or so I imagine the press release saying) in the most anti-climactic way possible. That Dua Lipa appears on this list is no surprise; that their duet would be this phoned-in — they have all the chemistry of a fly and drywall, and handclaps do not a chorus make — feels more underwhelming than already expected. The “d” in disco seems to stand less for “drama” and more for “detached.”
[3]

Claire Biddles: Absolutely the corniest thing imaginable BUT I have to give some due credit for the inclusion of underrated Elton hit “Sacrifice.”
[3]

Nortey Dowuona: I have to be real. I love, love the original “Sacrifice” with a burning passion, think it’s a great song, but it’s not a song that can be flattened into an anonymous 80’s tribute with a bland Dua Lipa croon atop the chorus and with dull house kicks. Maybe I’m wrong, but I’d rather they had just covered the original instead. I think Dua would do a fantastic job at that.
[3]

Edward Okulicz: Listening to this has made me realise that melody to the verses “Sacrifice” are kind of okay, even though I’ve always considered the song to have a dud chorus and that singing “sacrifice” as four syllables is unfor-uh-giveable. So cutting out the worst bit of the song is a plus. And “Rocket Man,” now that’s a fantastic chorus, so this is on paper a good idea. But not really, because Dua Lipa is a performer, but she’s not a showman, a character, the same way Peak Elton, or, of course, Kate Bush is. Without that, “Rocket Man” is actually nothing. Fittingly, this “remix” of a quadruple Elton feature is also nothing. None of this is bad, it’s just something that doesn’t need to exist from people who could have made something else.
[4]

Thomas Inskeep: If this were just a (relatively subtle) PNAU remix of Elton’s “Sacrifice,” I’d be fine with it; it would be unnecessary but fine. But adding in Dua Lipa singing bars of “Rocket Man” for no discernible reason other than streaming clicks really cheapens this. And you thought you couldn’t make Elton look cheaper than he does these days…
[4]

Appraising grand or appraising bland?

[Video][Website]
[6.71]

Mark Sinker: Over at this end, the plain commercial fact of it: nice music made by learned professionals with an immensity of shared experience in several fields! Over at that, the mystico-legendary end: an untranslatable Linear A for the young Plant in a tiny few Knossobilly fragments, from before the great doomed post-Cretan empire of ROCK stole all the artefacts and built over all the palaces and labyrinths.
[8]

John S. Quinn-Puerta: When T-Bone Burnett gets behind an album, he’s not remotely interested in messing around. Though I met the first single with skepticism, his work on The Phosphorescent Blues turned it into Punch Brothers’ magnum opus. He’s arguably partly responsible for a revival of mainstream interest in bluegrass and Americana thanks to the expertly curated soundtrack of O Brother, Where Art Thou? and is, with Marcus Mumford, responsible for the sound of what I think is the unsung diamond of the Coens’ filmography, Inside Llewyn Davis. Plant and Krauss are familiar territory for Burnett, having netted him a Grammy for 2007’s Raising Sand. “Can’t Let Go” is a return to form, brushed drums shuffling along in the background as a beautifully toned upright dictates the flow over tight vocal harmonies that have been honed for decades. Krauss’s alto really shines in the low tones, buoyed by subtle but present rockabilly guitar. Plant’s voice, familiar to anyone who’s ever listened to classic rock radio, echoes some of its legendary power as he drives the melody in the chorus. But the true brilliance of Burnett is in the space the track gives to Plant and Krauss. Rather than surrounding them, the instrumentation lets them breathe, making us miss them when they’re gone.
[8]

Alfred Soto: Raising Sand was the kind of critical and surprise popular success I can respect as an achievement instead of an affirmation of my taste; I settled for tasty goods when “Can’t Let Go” began. The rockabilly chords send mild electric shocks through Plant ‘n’ Krauss: the way they harmonize without one stepping on the other is a demonstration of how craftsmanship is its own reward — should you care to accept the reward. 
[7]

Harlan Talib Ockey: Objectively, I should like this. Krauss and Plant each sound great, the Ventures-esque guitars are clearly meant to appeal to me personally — but the harmonies don’t lock in anywhere near as tightly as on cuts like “Gone Gone Gone”, and it just seems to coast along in a state of perpetual anticlimax, never quite ramping up like it clearly wants to.
[5]

Ian Mathers: Plant’s covered Low before — if he and Krauss insist on sticking with the same sound as the pleasant but pretty darn monochromatic Raising Sand every time they get together, maybe they should cover “Disappearing” or something.
[5]

Claire Biddles: Seems like a backhanded compliment to call something “pleasant”, but that’s just what “Can’t Let Go” is. It has a just-about-satisfying forward momentum, Plant and Krauss’s vocals fit together as sweetly as they always have, there are no new revelations about the material… and that’s OK! A nice song!
[6]

Thomas Inskeep: Sure, the Plant/Krauss pairing (both on 2007’s Raising Sand and this new single) sounds a bit like boilerplate T-Bone Burnett, who produced. And his production is as marvelously understated as ever, working a spooky ’50s country vibe. But what makes this work so well is the surprising vocal chemistry between Plant and Krauss; their voices sound like they’ve been collaborating for decades.
[8]

Finding it easy to resume…

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[6.29]

Ian Mathers: Few singers can make rueful heartbreak sound this dreamy.
[8]

Crystal Leww: Katy B has always made music for the girls who go to the club on the weekend but also spend plenty of time crying in their bedroom, too. “Under My Skin” is produced by P2J, frequent collaborator of Wizkid and Burna Boy. It makes sense that the girl who took so much from the UK club underground (dubstep wobbles, UK garage, UK funky, and breakbeats) onto a pop album would continue to be pushing new and underappreciated (yes, still — I don’t care there was literally a collab with Beyoncé) club sounds forward. “Under My Skin” sounds like what happens when the club lights come on Sunday morning, after the cool bus ride home, watching the sun rise from the rooftop, a quiet moment of desperately sad reflection on a set of memories that feel like a different lifetime ago. 
[7]

Tobi Tella: The problem with taking a long break is that a sound you might’ve helped popularized has become overdone. I don’t hate the tropical house beat, and Katy’s a great vocalist, but there’s no shaking the feeling this is the sound of an also-ran. The lyrics don’t help, basically going down the kiss-off checklist: establish sadness, recall ~fond~ memories, explain why his love was toxic, profit! It’s the perfectly pleasant sound of being stuck in the past.
[5]

Alfred Soto: Few contemporary performers get me as excited as Katy B, whose debut a decade ago chronicled the nightlife of a woman hanging out in too many clubs and coming home too late (or early) but doing it because she loved the lights, the drinks, the conversations with her friend Olivia. She thankfully didn’t go in a balladeering direction after 2014’s “Crying For No Reason.” Her first track in almost five years thumps along with a semi-confident gait but doesn’t move fast enough to redeem the boring titular metaphor. 
[5]

Nortey Dowuona: The swallow synths spinning around Katy B’s soft voice sound good even smushed under the tilting bass ones, but altogether it just sounds like a Not3s throwaway with weaker drums that was passed on by that Love Island guy. And Katy’s voice, as beautiful as it is, is too anonymous to buoy it at all.
[5]

Iain Mew: Katy’s best songs have tended to bring together groove and tight songwriting, in a deceptively simple kind of way. This one is much looser on both fronts, which gives it an unpredictable energy but makes it a bit too diffuse to do so much with it. 
[6]

Mark Sinker: Lianas of rumination in a crisp, gentle frame of clicks, plinks and glunks, alive and wounded and supple, also controlled, self-possessed and confident in karmic reward, for the one who done her wrong. Focused, low-key, on-point, Katy B’s mission is the very opposite of hurried, that’s for sure.
[8]

No, too easy…

[Video]
[4.88]

Anna Katrina Lockwood: Well done to Somi — she has clearly figured out that the way you get regular releases on a YG-adjacent label is to write your own damn songs. Unfortunately, “DUMB DUMB” sounds like a song abandoned at a mere 3/4ths of the way to completion. I was startled by its abrupt termination with a mere 2:30 on the clock and nary a bridge in sight. Lord knows I love a K-pop song of petite duration, but this just doesn’t have enough go in it to satisfy my pop desires. I’m also mystified by the decision to name this song the same as the beloved Red Velvet title track.
[4]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: The song itself is well-written– a clever set of lyrics (title line aside) with a driving melody compelling performed by Somi. It’s let down by baffling production choices, most of them less musical flourishes and more sound effects, which turn a decent song into a moderately annoying novelty track.
[4]

Juana Giaimo: The structure of “Dumb Dumb” is interesting, but the delivery makes it seem too normal. The song goes from cute, to extra-trendy, to trap, to a full synthpop ending. For the cute part you have those classic piano chords and a snap as a beat, and for the chorus a deep bass enters and SOMI’s vocals are spoken and cold — all of which is really predictable.
[6]

John S. Quinn-Puerta: It’s amazing that something so relatively sparse feels overproduced. And yet the elegantly simple chorus makes everything else into artifice, dead weight the song must free itself of.
[5]

Katherine St Asaph: Could use more dumb, actually; maybe that’d make this sound more dynamic and less like it’s caught in a playlist vise grip between “Lean On” and “Worth It.”
[4]

Crystal Leww: “DUMB DUMB” is by-the-book end-of-career Teddy and hits all the same cues that what feels like the last eighty of his singles have — quiet start, whistles, chugging chorus, rap part, and booming finale. This feels frustratingly simple, and while it probably does everything just well enough for Somi to keep it going, the starpower is lacking.
[5]

Ian Mathers: The problem with the whistled hook and the throbbing production melding together so well is that it makes the rest of the song, the singing parts, feel kind of superfluous. But they’re by no means bad, and that’s not the worst problem to have.
[6]

Alfred Soto: I can’t fight the hook, will slam that whistle to the ground.
[5]

Between this and their last two singles, maybe “All Time Mid” is a more befitting name…

[Video]
[5.22]

Andrew Karpan: What would Jean Baudrillard have to say about postmodern anxiety or “PMA,” as pop punk lifers All Time Low call it on their latest single? Certainly, Alex Gaskarth comes to the table with more than enough “disposable simulacra,” delivered in a kind of lanky agitation and tracing the outlines of a world illuminated by memories of watching too much TV. “And I don’t even like it!,” he sings convincingly, even if the lyrics themselves aren’t quite as keenly selected as the ones Matty Healy pulls out of the bag to buffet his band’s theory-book titled albums. But the imperfections give the sound a cringe quality that feels practically joyous in a punk record, whose production values inherently shrug off pretentiousness. Even Healy’s label mates Pale Waves, whose singer dials her concerns in over at the track’s end, comes off with a kind of pure self-assuredness that felt missing among all the rage on her band’s sophomore effort. Some things can be disposable but good.
[7]

Will Adams: Both All Time Low and Pale Waves have excellently executed this early-’00s strain of adolescent pop-punk this year; frustratingly, their pairing here results in doubling down on those pop mental health tropes that tell, not show, the angst. The hooks and surging guitars remain, though; is there any genre better suited to simultaneously rolling your eyes and jumping along to the chorus?
[6]

Jeffrey Brister: Sunny production, bouncy lyrics, pretty slamming drums, but nothing truly distinctive, which kinda sucks! Heather Baron-Gracie has a very interesting voice, and none of its qualities get a workout here.
[5]

Ian Mathers: A perfectly fine, zippy little song, I just wish they were singing something that didn’t thud to the ground with a dull clang like “apathy and irony, postmodern anxiety” during the chorus, and that they hadn’t gone with such a witlessly “ironic” title.
[5]

John Pinto: There’s some interesting stuff here about not having the terms and/or self-confidence to address loneliness/depression/et al. Unfortunately, the song’s vagueness ultimately makes it a victim of that same lukewarm confusion. Title and hook are remarkably bad.
[3]

Thomas Inskeep: “PMA” is the most average pop-punk imaginable. If that’s your lane, you’ll enjoy this male/female duet. If not, you don’t ever need to hear it again.
[3]

Samson Savill de Jong: This is one of those songs that I’ve listened to a lot in an attempt to figure out whether or not I enjoy it. The presence of one of my faves Heather Baron-Gracie may have meant I was more eager to give the song a ringing endorsement, but her parts stood out against All Time Low’s instantly. The reason might not be immediately apparent before listening; the lyrics are broadly on a similar level, and they’re sung in similar ways. But I believe Heather in a way I don’t believe All Time Low. When she sings her therapist hates her, I think she feels that; when he sings that he watches Jeopardy despite not liking it I become convinced that this man’s never watched a television in his life. Repeated exposure has warmed me to the tune enough that I can enjoy the whole song, but Heather’s presence shows how much intangibles can bring to a song.
[6]

Aaron Bergstrom: Listen, Heather, I get it. I bet this was really fun to make. I bet you really mean all those nice things you’ve been saying about All Time Low, and I’m sure they’re really nice guys. But I’m worried about you. Because this is how it starts. Next thing you know, Travis Barker is writing and producing like nine songs on the next Pale Waves album and you forget all about the unique little touches that made your first two albums so special as you slip into the pop punk revival vortex. If I had the courage of my convictions, I’d give you a [3] and call it tough love, but I can’t, because you sold the hell out of this.
[7]

Alfred Soto: A charming fizzer that would’ve hit the top ten of Billboard‘s Modern Rock Tracks chart in, say, 2007. This has lyrics?
[5]

Not a Lindsay Lohan cover…

[Video]
[6.30]

Al Varela: This is the best possible comeback Lizzo could have hoped for. I adore the triumphant trumpet breakdown on the chorus and the confident wobble of the bass, as Lizzo and Cardi’s hilarious quips and incredible bravado draw you into the song’s theatrics. What makes Lizzo such a magnetic presence is her force of personality, her convincing you that she really is that bitch. She brags about being so badass and sure of herself that she knows she’s going to have sex with Drake eventually. Not even “I could have sex with Drake” — “I WILL have sex with Drake.” To hear that confidence as Lizzo tears down the constant sexism, racism, and fatphobia that comes her way is cathartic as hell.
[10]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: “Rumors” is clearly trying to achieve something similar to Lizzo’s two sleeper hits from 2019. It fails at this — the quotables here are less universal, the hooks less friendly. Fortunately, that makes “Rumors” a better song, imbued with a specificity and meanness that those tracks (and most of Cuz I Love You) lacked. It’s even better than Cardi B’s similar efforts around this theme– the union of Lizzo’s pop songcraft and Cardi’s pop personality creates a finely honed hook machine. Ricky Reed’s beat-work captures some of the mid-’70s R&B-rock glitz that a song like this deserves. It’s still corny, but it’s a version of corny with enough surprises that it doesn’t sound like it should be playing in CVS.
[7]

Thomas Inskeep: Riding a beat reminiscent of “The Real Slim Shady,” Lizzo just complains about — you know what she’s complaining about — to no point. Even Cardi can’t save this.
[1]

Tobi Tella: “Proving the haters wrong” anthems feel kind of self-defeating at this point, so it’s nice to hear one with full “and what?” energy. There’s still a streak of twee, but hearing Lizzo on something freakier than her Disneyfied mainstream breakthroughs just feels right.
[7]

Ian Mathers: There’s probably some Sun Tzu/Machiavelli-type advice about turning gossip to your own advantage that explains what Lizzo and Cardi are doing here, but “Rumors” has one big advantage over that: It’s a hell of a lot more fun.
[8]

Harlan Talib Ockey: Is this not just “Look What You Made Me Do”‘s cooler cousin? “Fuck the rumors and the haters, here’s a massively underwhelming chorus”? Still, it’s reasonably quotable, and Cardi’s actually part of the song, not lazily tacked on to jack up the streaming numbers.
[5]

Katherine St Asaph: You know, I was never a huge fan of Cuz I Love You, but at least Lizzo was a force on it, demolishing pretty every song. This demolishes nothing. The beat is halfhearted, the faux-Middle Eastern licks even more so — if you’re reviving that questionable part of the early 2000s, at least commit. Don’t try to make it tasteful! The brass is the most General MIDI-sounding filler I’ve heard since the Angelfire era. Most disappointingly, Lizzo barely seems present for her boasting. Even Cardi sounds low energy, which I didn’t even know was possible.
[3]

Nortey Dowuona: The first line is such a gut-punch that “Rumors” can’t really get out of its defensive crouch. The song never becomes the spin kick it wants to be — it attempts to hit back, but “it hurt itself in its confusion!” (The synth horns definitely don’t help. I wish the drum breakdown on both the pre-chorus and first repetition of the chorus had sprung into a “Metal Wings”-style end-of-song breakdown.) Cardi’s verse, in a welcome turn from her last three years of straight mid, is actually pretty great, especially her line about how blogs from different countries lie in languages she can’t read. But while Lizzo is a big performer, here she’s mostly in her lower range, at least at the beginning. She picks up the slack briefly by promising a swinging guitar breakdown, but it only happens after the last lines of the chorus and only lasts for a few seconds. The rumors got to her, oh well. The Muses cosplay is great — can’t wait for their scene in the next live-action Hercules movie.
[6]

Aaron Bergstrom: What was J. Lo doing that was so important that we couldn’t go full Hustlers reunion on this? That’s more fun to focus on than the way capitalism sells you increasingly watered down, commodified versions of things you used to love. We’re still on the right side of the divide with Lizzo, but just barely, and I’m not optimistic about her trajectory.
[6]

Alex Clifton: “Rumors” gets a [10] for multiple reasons: it’s one of the most fun songs I’ve heard all year, Lizzo and Cardi sound great, and the brass in the chorus is such an energizing addition. But I’ll admit the score is mostly because I have not stopped thinking about “last time I got freaky the FCC sued me” for two weeks. Another case of a surefire summer hit released a little too late to properly count as one, but one I’m happy to dance to nonetheless. 
[10]

The lights still blind…

[Video]
[6.56]

Al Varela: I want to be surprised The Weeknd is already starting a new era, but I think that’s only because “Blinding Lights” recently passed the record for the longest number of weeks on the Hot 100. It’s been more than a year since After Hours, so why not keep up that momentum with another big ’80s throwback? Part of me is really impressed with the incredibly polished and clean synth melodies that drive the song into a neon rainbow of dwindling roads and platinum lights, but I think another part of me knows it doesn’t do a lot to elevate itself beyond its influence. That’s not a bad thing; Bruno Mars’s whole career consists of indulging in retro pastiche, and I still love everything he puts out. Still, part of what makes After Hours and “Blinding Lights” such incredible moments in pop is that they transcend their influence. They have a love for ’80s culture and Vegas debauchery while still carving their own modern story that holds up beyond the nostalgia. This one doesn’t do as much to push beyond that, and it does make me worry that we’re going to get a more derivative album as a result. Still, I can’t deny what an exhilarating, fun song this is. It’s worth adding to The Weeknd canon. 
[8]

Nortey Dowuona: One of the most surprising things about The Weeknd’s next touch of recreating Mike Jack is that “Take My Breath” starts with a shuddering, shimmering guitar that rises and falls in the background and the back of the mix, putting you in such an anticipatory mood that no matter what follows, you’s ready to listen. And as each high-pitched note keens in response to the verse and the chorus, his lower pitch wail feels especially strong, holding his higher tones in a trembling but firm grasp. Then the swirling “Runaway” bass sweeps up the stomping drums and supplants them in the middle of the mix, creating a warm, prickly feeling in my ears, and the chorus crashes back down, filled with sour-patch synths to sweeten you up. The twinkling synths fritter around at the door’s edge, inviting you back in….
[10]

Samson Savill de Jong: Name a more iconic trio than The Weeknd, retro disco pastiche and unecessarily dark lyrics about boning.
[8]

Edward Okulicz: Not sure why, but The Weeknd moping as if his very fate rests upon you sucking his dick is boring, but The Weeknd moping as if the fate of the entire world rests on the same thing is thrilling.
[9]

Ian Mathers: If breathplay was a love-it-or-hate-it kink pre-COVID it’s only more so now, but the Weeknd doesn’t really sell either the potential sexiness or the reasons some might find it genuinely offputting. At some point both the charm and the genuinely discomfiting aspect leached out of his work, and although he’s occasionally made up for it in other ways, when he can’t manage that, the results feel dreadfully hollow.
[4]

Thomas Inskeep: I wish he weren’t so creepy, but the Moroder-isms on display here are undeniable.
[6]

Katherine St Asaph: Tesfaye tells what the Moroder throb shows.
[6]

Alfred Soto: He sees the fire in her eyes because the furnace in which he burned every post-1980 referent went cold years ago. 
[4]

Oliver Maier: Half-remembering songs from the radio growing up that you always thought you’d maybe hear again one day. They probably wouldn’t sound as good any more and, if they did, you’d run them dry on your streaming service of choice and grow bored of them. Was life always this unsexy? Did hit songs always make you feel so condescended to? Do they think you’re stupid? Are you stupid? Watching the sunset with your earphones in and feeling like the main character in a very long movie. Maybe you are stupid. Maybe you’ll figure it out tomorrow. Maybe you’ll finally delete your streaming service of choice and buy all of your music like you keep meaning to. There’s a new Weeknd song out again. You swear that other new Weeknd song came out, like, yesterday. It hasn’t left the charts in 20 months. Listening to the new one on your streaming service of choice. It’s fine. It feels like it should be catchy but it sort of isn’t. There are multiple lines about dying in it; it’s even there in the name. We’ve been making songs about dying for longer than we’ve been making songs on computers (a long time) but now more than ever we’re scared to press our ears against the future for fear of what we might hear. Is that so wrong? Are the ’80s over yet? Waking up from a bad dream about a movie you saw as a kid and going to the bathroom to take a piss. (Oooooh) You’re blinded by the lights. You go back to bed so you can wake up again. The Weeknd is wide awake in every time zone under every night sky, giddy with despair.
[4]

A comeback that delivers…

[Video]
[7.14]

Thomas Inskeep: This pairing of Bad Bunny with bachata legends Aventura could be a train wreck on paper, but it works so smoothly in practice. Romeo Santos and his silky voice, meanwhile, remind us that he should be as big a star as The Weeknd. If this doesn’t make you swoon, I may wonder what’s wrong with you.
[8]

Nortey Dowuona: The gorgeous synths that well up behind Romeo Santos, who handles this song alone, are buoyant but are immediately smushed by the rigid programmed drums, while Bad Bunny hops between the gaps with a firm hand the silky guitar lightly draped over the drums, and it becomes his own with such a careful tilling it’s annoying when Romeo does actually return to wilt and whisper over this beat, nothing but a ghostly presence until Bad Bunny returns, his pained yelp coming from being dragged underneath the drums, before Romeo shoves him under to continue forcing his frail tenor in the listeners face. Then finally, Bad Bunny frees himself and the song with a sample of a previous Aventura cut, suddenly the frail curtain against the slicing drums — then silence.
[7]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: The grandiose iciness of Bad Bunny’s work integrates into Aventura’s bachata without overwhelming the style’s more organic grooves. It’s a finely tuned machine of a track, Romeo Santos’ reedy voice balancing out Bad Bunny’s baritone perfectly, their shared purpose of immense horniness creating just enough dissonance to offset the just-too-clean production.
[8]

Crystal Leww: A collab with Bad Bunny is a pretty good excuse to convince Romeo Santos to return home to Aventura. The result is fine, which is probably better than most attempts for massive, superstar team-ups. Bad Bunny continues to show everyone how he’s become the force in urbano music — even when he’s not necessarily at the top of his game, he does his thing with a sense of urgency and energy that convinces you to bop around it anyway. 
[6]

Oliver Maier: Equal parts sugar and spice; Romeo Santos’ croon and Bad Bunny’s wail make for a good combination, just enough in common and just enough that’s distinctive. It all fits together in that deeply satisfying, in-your-bones way that only good reggaeton does. The manic outro is a nice touch.
[8]

Juana Giaimo: Instrumental-wise, “Volví” has the best of both worlds: it’s fun and upbeat like reggaeton but also sensual like bachata. It’s not the first time we hear how Romeo Santos’ delicate singing can fit the straightforwardness of a reggaeton beat, but it’s neither the first time we see how Bad Bunny’s heavy tone contaminates the whole song — I feel his voice is slowly becoming a burden. The song structure doesn’t help: his part lasts literally one whole minute during which most of the ornamentation of the bachata doesn’t appear. When Romeo Santos is back, it feels that his song isn’t his anymore. 
[6]

Alfred Soto: Romeo Santos can slow it down, speed it up — he has an instinct for knowing what a song requires and when. Bad Bunny proves a solid duet partner. The insistent guitar pluck sweetens the latter’s partied-out burr and harmonizes with the former. A single so calculated to hit in every market as to take my breath away.
[7]

No, not a Black Box cover. Our proofreaders checked…

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[5.50]

Harlan Talib Ockey: I’ve heard thousands of attempts to make this song — the piano ballad that gradually escalates into exorcistic blue-eyeshadowed arena rock — but this is one example that actually sticks the landing. “Right on Time” builds so organically the structure almost blurs into one ardent monologue, powered by Carlile’s sensitive yet dynamic voice. Its greatest detriment is that the lyrics read like they were scrambled by an AI; I’m pretty sure there’s a narrative in here about a dysfunctional relationship breaking up, but a bunch of stock phrases seem to have been inserted at random to fill out melody lines. Still, it’s impossible to argue with the way Carlile soars into the final chorus with the force of an opera character singing for her life.
[7]

Michael Hong: The slow crescendo feels too slow compared to Carlile’s sudden operatic howl, but there’s enough that comes after its peaks to make “Right on Time” sound patient and grateful in its emotional release.
[6]

Edward Okulicz: Obviously this is massive, and in the right context would bring the house down, but you already know the right context for this song to bring the house down is at some awards show. And Carlile sings this like she’s already up there thanking God and her manager, such that “It’s getting the point where I can’t CARRY ON!!!!” is a weird mix of tasteful ballad and crass emotional overload. I am somewhat in awe of it, but another part of me resents it intensely.
[5]

Juana Giaimo: It takes a lot of boldness to release such a big piano ballad like this one in 2021 — who has so much energy these days? Still, I feel that the musical grandness isn’t reflected in the emotions. Her voice sounds rather tired and when it reaches the high note towards the end, it doesn’t feel like a dramatic culmination, but rather like a compulsory step of even piano ballad. 
[6]

Alfred Soto: Brandi Carlile’s whisper-to-a-yarl approach takes getting used to. With the wrong tune, she can shatter panes as far away as the John Hancock Center. “Right on Time” is okay Carlisle. When she sang “I never held my breath for quite this long,” I chuckled. 
[6]

Samson Savill de Jong: I’d say that I was grateful for the blast of music two minutes in waking me up from this snorefest of a song, but “Right on Time” is so formulaic that I’d subconciously accounted for it and barely even registered it.
[4]

Andy Hutchins: Brandi Carlile’s “The Story” is one of my favorite songs, its composition and performance both about as close to perfect as music gets for me. It strikes me like I imagine lightning would, its passion so overwhelming that I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to listen to it without crying — I recognized its force when first I heard it, and upon returning to it over and again as years and love and life have shaped me, I’ve never found it diminished. “Stories don’t mean anything/Unless you’ve got someone to tell them to” is less a lyric I think about than a truth I’ve internalized. So I know the peak of Carlile’s powers as a performer and the deftness of her longtime writers, the brothers Hanseroth, and while “Right on Time” is a smart inversion of the dynamics that give “The Story” its punch — a crystallization of a relationship into a moment, practically the opposite of the latter song’s panorama of life’s ocean roiled by storms — its simmering, searching wistfulness can’t help but pale in comparison. As a lead and leadoff single from an album that will surely have more to say, “Right on Time” is quite good. One problem with being spoiled by perfection or similar, though, is that I can’t quite shake the propensity to assess artists I consider capable of masterpieces as if their every effort is a potential one.
[6]

Austin Nguyen: If you liked P!nk at her piano or Lady Gaga at her guitar, I present: the next Great Power Ballad, coming to a battle round of The Voice near you. If you didn’t — well, just pray the organ thaws out of its iceberg by next time.
[4]

Hope?

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[4.14]

Tim de Reuse: A near-prerequisite to fame and fortune in country music these days is a voice with a lot of, ehr, “character”: some twangy affectation on which you can market your authenticity. This is not a deal-breaker, but it makes duets difficult. As evidence: the absolutely tuneless, straining harmonies that ruin the singability of this song’s otherwise decent chorus. “Turn the want-you off whenever I want to” is a genuinely poignant turn of phrase; it’s a real shame that the two voices delivering it are too busy competing for the foreground to manifest a coherent melodic line.
[3]

Thomas Inskeep: The epitome of “power ballad,” solidly written, featuring one singer who can pull it off sometimes (Aldean) and one who couldn’t be more perfectly suited for it (Underwood, of course). Shame their voices have absolutely zero chemistry together.
[5]

Nortey Dowuona: Jason’s voice is so unsteady that the instruments nearly topple over, and it’s only when Carrie’s howl and shiny guitar come in that the song reaches equilibrium. As Carrie flies right above the same 8-bar phrase without a flaw, Jason’s return in the chorus feels even more superfluous.
[5]

Alfred Soto: Once again, I dwell on the mystery of how guitars this crunchy and kickdrums this well-deployed can power a duet this vapid. What’s Jason Aldean doing that Carrie Underwood couldn’t take care of herself — including the romance? And will they breathe COVID into each other’s mouths as proof positive of their love?
[4]

Juana Giaimo: When power ballads are performed right, they just hit you, and Carrie Underwood should be thanked here for that. Just listening to all the higher harmonies and how she begins the last chorus makes me want to be in a car alone and sing this out loud, pretending I’m heartbroken. 
[7]

Ian Mathers: Actually, plenty of people (deep breath) mind being alone, keep checking their phones, take the long way home just to drive themselves crazy, lose sleep remembering everything [person] said to them, want [person] to the exclusion of all else, can’t let go, aren’t good by now, barely get by somehow, find it hard to miss [person], wonder who is with [person], can’t “turn the want you off” when they want, cry sometimes, fake a smile, play it off with a lie when someone asks how they’ve been, try to find someone new, are in the state they’re in, find it hard to see [person], know how much they need [person], hate that they still feel like they do….. all without currently or sometimes ever loving [person]. Your sample size is bad and you should feel bad.
[2]

Mark Sinker: cope –> mope –> nope 
[3]