So they’re basically the swag version of Danny Wilson. Gonna guess the number of people who get that reference will be in single figures…

[Video][Website]
[5.78]

Chuck Eddy: “Jerk”? “Dougie”? “Snap”? Apparently from Georgia, so more likely the latter? Or has snap been over for years? Anyway, this sounds real good, or would have back before I’d heard so many other hits that sound the same. As long as I ignored the words (your usual dumb strip club blabber when audible), anyway. Though the lines about the white girl’s lack of teeth and/or cheeks did make me smile. And maybe the uh, I dunno what you call it — sort of spaghetti western parts? — don’t sound the same.
[7]

Tal Rosenberg: Bring it back bring it back bring it back bring it back bring it back bring it back to snap, doo-wop, crunk hybrids with hypnotic voices hypnotically and laconically spouting moronic chronic non sequiturs. Shazammed: Twice. You don’t like it? You can act you can act you can act you can act you can act and then bring it back bring it back bring it back bring it back bring it back.
[9]

Al Shipley: Never cared much for these swag-drunk goofballs before, but the synth squiggle on the chorus alone ingratiating this song to me, and soon enough I grudgingly gave into the appeal of the whole package.
[7]

Michaelangelo Matos: Lightly diverting until you pay attention to the words, which aren’t good enough to put it over anywhere but the gentleman’s club.
[6]

Jer Fairall: Bumps and glides with such unrelenting precision that the Charlie Sheen-level skeeziness of the lyrics are, if not forgivable, then at least worthy of ignoring.
[6]

Martin Skidmore: The rapping is kind of Southern, but the beats are rather more jerk than crunk. I’m not sure the often drawled lyrics work terribly well with the bouncier production, but I still kind of like it.
[6]

Asher Steinberg: This just seems very un-energetic and clinical for what I suppose is intended to be a strip club anthem; it’s rather appropriate that the video’s treatment is this idea of manipulating models by remote control. The whistly sound on the hook is reminiscent of Lil Jon in his heyday, but it’s a lot more utilitarian and less playful than his stuff was. And the rapping’s really insular, like the members of the group are whispering to each other.
[3]

Alfred Soto: “I wanna see your big booty on my upper leg” goes the only incoherent order in four minutes’ worth of them. The simple beat is infectious, the voice a bug.
[4]

Jonathan Bogart: It shouldn’t be so much work to have so little fun.
[4]

Singalingalingalingaling…

[Video][Website]
[4.50]

Michaelangelo Matos: I used to think the jelly-bracelet hits of my late-’80s adolescence surely represented the lamest pop-music epoch I’d ever live through. The second I heard (I think) Cory Monteith sing, “I’m not thinking about you haters/Cause hey, I can be a superstar/I’ll see you when you wash my car,” I knew I was wrong.
[1]

Martin Skidmore: I’m a big fan of the show, but I don’t care hugely for any of the performances. This one is a rare original song, produced with bright poppiness by Max Martin. It’s sung by Lea (Rachel) Michele, with her usual confidence, and it comes over as enjoyable enough, but I still can’t work up any interest in the music out of the TV show’s context.
[5]

Jonathan Bogart: I wanted to hate this. Not that I’ve ever watched the show, or have any interest in ever doing so; I long ago joined the casually anti-Glee bandwagon. (Sometimes I’m happy to go with the conventional wisdom that says something very popular sucks.) But then I heard it and… well, Max Martin. I’m told the lead singers are Lea Michele and Cory Monteith, but those are just verses, and who cares about verses? The chorus is what digs its hooks into you, a digitally-spun candy gloss of massed voices, electronics and giddy leaps up the scale. Even the eyeroll-worthy lyrics — you’ll never guess what position these kids take on haters! — are translated from standard self-justifying narcissism to an anthem of underdog empowerment by the sheer sugar-crack dynamism of the melody and production. I hate being wrong… but I like liking stuff even more.
[8]

Chuck Eddy: Though the male Gleek’s revenge-of-nerd-on-bully verse is timely, and the female Gleek’s singing is better than competent, what makes the record is the riff out of “Mmmbop,” the lilt out of “Steal My Sunshine,” and the rap part out of the Bring It On soundtrack. A turn of the ’00s teen-pop revival? Hey, I’m game.
[7]

Jer Fairall: You mean to tell me there weren’t at least a dozen nearly identical songs in the current Disney pop canon that they couldn’t have lifted rather than go to the trouble of paying an army of songwriters to come up with this?
[3]

Al Shipley: Every Glee version of a pre-existing hit that I’ve heard flattens it only slightly less than Kidz Bop, so it’s not surprising that their first attempt at a Real Original Pop Song with Max Martin and everything is this awkward. Forget the headlines about them planning to tackle Rebecca Black’s “Friday” on an upcoming episode: how much better is this really than the average Ark Music Factory production?
[3]

Doug Robertson: It’s a little bit Pink, a little bit Kelly Clarkson and a whole lot of autotuning, but you know what? It works. It’s fun, catchy and knows exactly what its audience is looking for. It might not be overflowing with originality, but there’s still plenty of sparkle sloshing over the sides.
[7]

Zach Lyon: Before I learned this was from the cast of Glee, I actually thought it was being sung by a cartoon unicorn. I think I might prefer that? It’s a tad catchy, but not enough to make up for the vomity feeling I get every time she goes “all right” in that voice that only seems to exist in exercises like these. I do not understand this show.
[2]

Let’s stay together…

[Video][Website]
[5.38]

Jonathan Bogart: “There’s no tomorrow there’s just right now now now.” “‘Cause we’re never getting old.” “Keep on dancing till the world ends.” “We might not get tomorrow, let’s do it tonight.”” A gag order keeps me from saying much more on this topic, but it’s interesting to note that it’s bled over into the country side. True to genre form, Young scales down the drama to the merely interpersonal, but it’s not just the hot beat that’s missing, it’s any sense of urgency.
[6]

Doug Robertson: There’s a vague, by-the-numbers anthemic quality to the chorus, some unimaginative metaphors and the general impression that any emotions expressed in the song are entirely coincidental. Fire and gasoline? You’re not even talcum powder and a black shirt.
[4]

Anthony Easton: By the book production, and by the book rising bridge, hooking onto the chorus, and the lyrics are an unforgivable mess of cliches. Refuses to tell stories. All of this is a total shame because Young’s voice is beautiful, has a laconic edge and a tender warmth. Should work on that.
[3]

Alfred Soto: Young’s brassy baritone lends weight to this masochist’s plaint, but if you think they’re only going to fuck one more time, I got a guitar solo I’d like to sell you.
[6]

Zach Lyon: His warbly emotion in the chorus is so affecting, and just what he needed. He has a great voice, and the best thing he could do is betray it with such genuineness: that “no matter how hard I want to” that sounds almost Aguilera-like in its attempt at diva note-jumping but ultimately sounds ridiculous. Or the way every chorus ends with what sounds like tears. I’m smitten by this.
[8]

Martin Skidmore: I find I am saying the same things about him again: nice, strong, traditional country voice, some crappy soft rock guitar. However, this is a stronger song, about clinging onto a relationship you know isn’t working, and he delivers it with feeling and control, and it ends up rather moving.
[8]

Michaelangelo Matos: Not hateable or anything, just a totally standard, pretty boring take on the “For the Good Times” template, only uptempo and less sung than yowled.
[4]

Chuck Eddy: He sings his heartfelt heart out, and I can’t for the life of me imagine why anyone — at least, anyone not going through the exact same situation right this very second — would remotely care.
[4]

Would’ve done a pun about going to Church on Easter Sunday, but it’s a mite late for that now…

[Video][Website]
[5.25]

Martin Skidmore: Church is an intelligent songwriter and a strong country singer, with some imaginative flair in the arrangements too — I really like him, though I am less sure about the sentiments here.
[7]

Josh Love: A touching song about a man entreating his younger brother to cast off one cartoonishly cliched lifestyle in favor of another. One of these lifestyles is noble and honorable and satisfying and full of tender love and ice cold beer. The other is mean and selfish and scary and full of cruelty towards old people. Can you guess which one involves wearing “pants on the ground” and a “hip-hop hat?”
[2]

Anthony Easton: In the age of Eminem, the idea that working class culture is best represented in hip-hop and not country music is important. Also, country ceded the current for the nostalgic a long time ago (maybe the 70s?).
[6]

Michaelangelo Matos: Right: he can’t fool the country-singing narrator, but he can fool the hood into thinking he’s a hardened inner-city criminal. Solution: rip off the plot of the Lost Trailers’ “Holler Back” but recast it as hard-bitten tough love (“It ain’t a glamorous life/But it’ll keep you out of jail”) turned family-responsibility sermon. Very valley-of-the-shadow-of-death of him.
[2]

Chuck Eddy: Can’t decide whether this sounds more like a morose folk song or a clanging industrial song — probably a good sign, seeing as how it’s a hard-droning country song. And it’s also, of course, a brotherly advice song, and a big part of the advice is basically “stop trying to dress like a rapper,” so accuse Eric of another r-word if you need to. But I think that’d be missing the point, since the hip-hop cap and low-riding trousers and fake gold teeth (and tattoos) clearly signify rebellion more than blackness. You get the idea that big bro’s done some rebelling himself, and little bro’s not fooling him, so Eric’s passing on his hard-earned knowledge. Or maybe he’s just jealous he didn’t leave first, so he’s warning the kid not to get above his raisin’ (since, in modern Nashville, only the ladies are allowed to search for adventure beyond the farm — the dudes stay put). Might be ignorant guidance; it’s a big world worth exploring, and a Yelawolf in the family might be cool, right? But even though we never quite find out why exactly the junior sibling’s a jail risk, the conversation rings true and powerful, contradictions and hypocrisies and all. “That old tractor got my home boys” — Woody Guthrie rapped that, back in 1940 or so.
[9]

Josh Langhoff: As a narrative I buy it, because I know the Brother. Back in high school he had ridiculous dreadlocks instead of a “hip-hop hat” and the rest, he didn’t push Daddy around but he did spend some time in jail, and now he’s a solid taxpaying citizen with strong family ties. Small predominantly-white towns SUCK in many ways, so you try to escape to the first Other that comes along, and your conception of that Other is probably based on the broadest stereotypes, and maybe you pair those stereotypes with violence because that’s an Other too. The problem is, Church isn’t handing this sermon to his wayward Brother as a private press 45. As a cautionary tale “Homeboy” is worthless, because any real-life Brothers won’t listen to it. No, Church is preaching to a public country audience, much of which already views hip-hop culture as an Other and equates it with violence. But I’M Church’s audience too, and maybe lots of us know Brothers of our own and “Homeboy” touches us as a well-constructed piece of songcraft. Job well done! On the other hand, “Homeboy” is definitely constructed — Church and co-writer Casey Beathard have invented this Brother, the fake gold on his teeth, and his superficial take on Otherness. They’ve also appropriated the word “homeboy” and the synths from the hip-hop culture they’re dissing. They’re hypocrites and opportunists. But the synths sound great, and the lyrical twist “come on home, boy” is deeply felt; this song isn’t glib about Otherness like the go-to pariah “Beer for My Horses”. Finally all my back-and-forth on “Homeboy” zips it up into a tense interlocking bundle of contradictions that I can’t separate from how much I enjoy its details, guitars, and narrator, even if he’s using his bully pulpit to congratulate his country’s narrowest minds.
[8]

Zach Lyon: For years, the go-to Myspace “Favorite Music” answer for obnoxious people was “pretty much everything except country and rap”. It’s different now (rap, at least, is more acceptable) but seeing the two of them together in the same box for so long basically made them brothers to me. Country and rap are similar, almost inextricably so, on a surface/demographic/political level (on a musical level, R&B is probably a better comparison for country), at least to many of us that like to defend them both but aren’t so immersed in either to miss the relation. And that’s what really pisses me off about “Homeboy.” I wish I could say it’s the bubbling racism that does it for me, but really, it’s just disappointing to hear a country musician shit all over hip-hop culture when my mind wants the two genres to see each other as comrades. Church confronts his brother in the nastiest way, trying to entice him with the promise of a stereotypical country existence simply because that’s what he was born into, and he occasionally breaks into such a judgmental voice that the lyrics are spat more than sung. It’s a bit easier to swallow if you convince yourself the brother is selling meth (as they considered at The 9513) or is Yelawolf (which is kind of funny), but any good will is squandered by the production. Church once again lets instrumental ADD get the best of him, and this whole thing is all over the place with too many introductions to symphonies and heavy guitars and lighter guitars and more symphonies. Some of it sounds nice but most of it sounds like some sort of badly-executed prog-country. Church needs to take his own advice: drink a cold one and calm the fuck down. It blows that he still seems to have one of the most charismatic voices in country and it’s wasted on something like this.
[1]

Alfred Soto: The pun in the title reflects Church’s complicated feelings: he doesn’t want his buddy to wear tattoos or pants like the scary black kids he spotted on the wrong side of the tracks so he urges him to return to a suffocating blue collar life in the country surrounded by “kin.” I don’t hear racial “dog whistles” so much as genuine anxiety about the fate of a friend and maybe the singer projecting his own unease about living in less, um, urban environs. “We both know who you are,” he reminds him. The shift from folk to arena rock matches Church’s man-sized love; his “do this for me, buddy” is very touching – we don’t often get male friendship articulated so unambivalently. It’s fascinating though how the women — Miranda Lambert and Gretchen Wilson and the girls to whom they’re writing — can’t wait to get the hell out of Dodge. Hell, they’d burn Dodge to the ground if they could.
[7]

He’s become a lot more Googlable lately…

[Video][Myspace]
[6.14]

Michaelangelo Matos: Cute lyrics, decent execution, singer’s a little faint.
[6]

Martin Skidmore: I rather like his voice, which has a crispness that reminds me some UK garage of years back. There’s a relaxed feel to this that is very appealing, and a likeable fondness in the lyric and delivery, though I could have done without the repeated screwed-down vocal line, which for me breaks the mood some.
[7]

Josh Langhoff: I’m all for singing random metaphors, but not because you’re too sleepy to come up with anything else. That said, I do like the random Bob George voice that butts in every so often to deliver the hook, if that’s what that is.
[3]

Al Shipley: The nasal vocal, almost unintelligibly screwed sample hook, whiney synth line and timid beat somehow add up to something seductively singular and strangely addictive.
[7]

Jer Fairall: “You be the [something], I’ll be the [something else that typically compliments the previous something]” is a laughably tired lyrical trope, but there’s a lithe, seductive smoothness to both the understated production and his creamy voice that almost — ALMOST — forgives the sheer lameness of his pick-up lines.
[6]

Alfred Soto: So simple is its commitment to a kind of unhistrionic erotic desperation that I almost threw it away. I didn’t expect his restraint to sound sexy beside the high mournful wind instrument hooting in the background. I especially love his immersion in sound for its own sake.
[8]

Katherine St Asaph: Fantastic verses, decent crackle of a beat, strong singing, then things peter out where the chorus isn’t. I’m particularly baffled at how Miguel managed to go suddenly flat on the song’s title.
[6]

Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Michaelangelo Matos School of Accents…

[Video][Website]
[4.88]

Michaelangelo Matos: Pffffffftttt: comeback! Good one! Oh wait, sorry. I mean: Nice one, matey! On one! Cheerio! Or whatever the pillheads in British/Euro-clubs without a care in the world say to each other when they’re dancing to piffle like this. That seems to be the guiding principle here, and why not? Anything for a fresh start, right? Live your life, absolutely. Just watch where you throw those chairs.
[1]

Anthony Easton: There is a brilliant article in this weeks New York Magazine, about how people sort of hated Chris Brown when he was all begging forgiveness for beating the shit out of Rhianna, but loving him when he gave up on feeling bad, and started being an asshole again. Sort of the R. Kelly thing.
[6]

Asher Steinberg: Pop is in a really affirming mood nowadays. In the past half-year, we’ve had singles from Katy Perry, Ke$ha, Pink, Lady Gaga, and now Chris Brown on the joys of being one’s (often gay) self. Unfortunately, previous installments in the cycle of self-empowerment tunes have ranged from condescending, to condescending-er, to perfectly okay, but less interested in affirming the listener’s identity than in celebrating the singer’s own freedom to wear tons of glitter. Now, Chris has come out with the most sincere and uplifting inspirational ditty of them all, built around the charming if treacly conceit that, wherever Chris goes, all he sees are beautiful people. Of course, one can’t help but think of one particular beautiful person whom Chris temporarily rendered not so beautiful, which perhaps explains his fervent insistence that the beauty “deep inside you” is all that counts. But as self-serving and full of it as the song may actually be, Chris does the song a huge favor by disappearing into layers of autotune, making it perfectly possible to pretend that this isn’t a Chris Brown song at all.
[8]

Katherine St Asaph: TEAM: OK, boss, this’ll totally sell him. See, we redesigned the packaging to get rid of all that aggressive branding and move the old name off to the corner there. Everything’s glazed in more autotune to go down easy, and the track’s been pressed into fun new shapes! We even got Benny Benassi — don’t worry, he’s legit — to give us a nice blurb for the back of the box. You won’t believe it’s got Chris Brown! BOSS: Huh. So you won’t… shame its sell-by date says 2009.
[3]

Hazel Robinson: After having spent the last few months vaguely convinced that “Yeah x3” was a Katy Perry song due to its resemblance to “California Girls”, I ended up listening to the whole Chris Brown album the other day and growing completely maddened that someone it feels so impossible to endorse has been given such fucking brilliant songs. Then again, I like metal so this sort of dissonance isn’t unusual and perhaps that’s what lets me brush it aside where it feels like I probably shouldn’t. Either that or the fact that most of the album takes pains to reduce Brown’s actual involvement with each song to a cursory minimum that feels more like a producer’s vanity album than a popstar’s. Still, the brooding, clambering basslines of this, building into Benny Benassi’s euphoric home territory and the take your sexy time line makes my skin crawl a little bit. Part of me wonders if it would if “Changed Man” hadn’t been such a total travesty that anything after feels like at best a bad act but I really don’t want Chris Brown to be up against me in a club, it turns out. And I think perhaps I like the song because of that — it’s almost certainly a leap of faith too far to assume that it’s intentionally gothic but the compulsion is in the revulsion here, certainly.
[7]

Martin Skidmore: Pumping Benassi electrohouse, with what sound almost like steel drums, with Chris Brown droning over the top. I think he’s a dull singer (I am trying to put aside the fact that he’s a loathsome cunt, but it may bias me), and the deadened tones really do nothing for the otherwise bright and uplifting club sounds.
[6]

Alfred Soto: I like the sexual ambiguity of the title — it scrubs some of the dullness off the post-Guetta backdrop. But all the Auto-Tune that a felon can buy doesn’t give the vocals the charisma crucial to making this sort of squishy universalism soar.
[3]

Jer Fairall: Might’ve functioned as a perfectly serviceable, comfortably nondescript Pride anthem were it not for the massive inconvenience of “Born This Way.” Oh, and that whole Rihanna thing.
[5]

Our first-ever roller-skating anecdote? Possibly…

[Video][Website]
[6.14]

Michaelangelo Matos: “Put your middle finger up and let the haters know”: Britain’s latest R&B comer has no problem staying on message, and woe betide those who aren’t with the program: “You should be stepping to the rhythm like I showed you/Like I showed you.” That’s not simply repetition, but a reprimand: “Like I showed you, or else.” In short, a tutorial on stardom by someone who barely exists on the charts; she’s here to tell us that we are all winners, but only if we do it her way: “Because you’re bringing it down.” Ballsy.
[6]

Martin Skidmore: I am amused by this line on Wiki: “When writing “Bring It”, Connor did not have anything in mind.” Nonetheless, with the help of “Good Times” producer David Dawood, we get a pretty punchy dance number with swirling synths, plus a lively guest rap from Tinchy Stryder. Her voice is a touch strident, the lyrics are identikit and there’s nothing especially interesting in the music, but it has some potency and plenty of cheeriness.
[8]

Hazel Robinson: I think the last time I heard Jodie Connor was on a bassline track that her voice was far more suited to — her almost-conversational tone is lost here, drowned by Red One-esque synths, which is a shame since both the song and her are really pretty likeable.
[7]

Jer Fairall: Rihanna-lite at a time when Ri’s own recent output hasn’t been that heavy, there is still no use questioning the potential of this as club filler, even if it only gets there by dusting off several dance music cliches so tired that even Rihanna wouldn’t work with them unless in the company of David Guetta.
[4]

Katherine St Asaph: I guess since Cascada un-evacuated the dancefloor, an Alice Deejay revival was inevitable. Jodie’s as syrupy as the synths, Tinchy mostly stays out of the way, and things bounce along fast enough for you either to join in or, given a few seconds, let it pass by.
[5]

Zach Lyon: The first five or six times I listened to this, I didn’t even realize it was on. More of a transitional track on the playlist. Jodie doesn’t really stand out to me, the production doesn’t really stand out, and I feel the same about Tinchy Stryder as I always have (it’s hard to feel anything about Tinchy Stryder). And then, midway through work or school or whatever, I would suddenly realize I had this phantom song in my head, and it was catchy as all get-out, and I had no idea what it was until I combed over every song on the playlist. And it’s really just the melody/bangertude of the chorus; the rest is still unnoticeable, but if you don’t notice it, it’s not really doing much harm, is it?
[7]

Josh Langhoff: Went to the local roller skating rink last week — our family looks forward to this all year, we’re lame. For some reason the big intimidating guys who run the place kicked things off with “Gonna Make You Sweat”, and bizarrely continued with a mix of ‘80s/’90s house-and-freestyle-derived pop hits; Black Box, Taylor Dayne, that kind of stuff. I dug this playlist, even though its weirdness paled in comparison to the Stevie B mix — that’s right, A ROLLER SKATING PLAYLIST OF STEVIE B SONGS — we enjoyed a couple years ago. But after an hour of nostalgia music the kids had cleared the floor and the night was dying, so when the ENTIRE PLAYLIST began to repeat, my kid had the wisdom to request some Lady Gaga. Well! Gaga led to Ke$ha led to Britney led to more big boshy explosions of youthful skating NRG, and the kids were happy and bought glow-in-the-dark tchotchkes, and I reflected on how much better today’s dance-pop sounds than the stuff I grew up with. This is probably a matter of sonic technology — Britney’s “Three” is no match for Taylor’s “Tell It To My Heart” as a song, but as a skating accompaniment, “Three” totally shoots the duck. To sum up, “Bring It” is pretty generic, but all those synthesized layers make me think I won’t be able to wait another year.
[6]

And of course, Sister Mary’s still going nowadays too…

[Video][Website]
[5.25]

Martin Skidmore: She sings this with her usual strength and confidence, and it bounces along rather nicely in a rather reggae style, with a decent hook. The guest rapping from Diddy and Wayne is rather routine, when a bit more energy would have been welcome, but it’s a jolly enough record.
[7]

Hazel Robinson: I love Mary J Blige but why has she done a sort of reply-track to an album that was already a dialogue? She doesn’t quite fill the space — playing sample and lead vocalist is hard and the beat is sped up, tightened and confused so it sounds almost like a karaoke version of itself. It’s a great track to start off with but this feels deeply unnecessary from all sides.
[5]

Zach Lyon: Better than it was on Last Train to Paris but that’s a pretty big head start. The dialogue samples (or is that Mary?) in particular change the atmosphere completely for me.
[7]

Al Shipley: This is at least the third time in the past year that Mary has appeared on a remix of a song without doing much more than re-recording a vocal part from the original, after Drake’s “Fancy” and Jazmine Sullivan’s “Holding You Down.” And this one feels even more pointless given that she’s reclaimed the Diddy-Dirty Money song as her own single.
[4]

Michaelangelo Matos: Christ al-fucking-mighty, ENOUGH ABOUT YOURSELF ALREADY.
[3]

Pete Baran: It’s interesting that the guest acts here don’t just phone it in, but Mary’s light skat around their rap rightly rules the roost. It’s such a lightweight throwaway track that nevertheless is so much more fun than I expected. Mary ning-ning-nings and hicoughs her way through her vocal, showing she still has the chops, and I imagine her standing over both Diddy and Wayne with a stern look until they delivered what was required.
[7]

Alfred Soto: Taking one of the best songs from Diddy’s Last Train to Paris and injecting it with her lustrous self-adoration, Mary does a worse job than the anonymous The Sweet Inspirations, not to mention an animated Diddy and Wayne.
[5]

Chuck Eddy: Best thing about this song is its title, which inspired me to come up with “Are You Gonna Kiss Me Or Not (Naked),” “Ass On The Floor (Naked),” “Do It Like A Dude (Naked),” “I Just Had Sex (Naked),” “Born This Way (Naked),” etc… Not saying it’s a brilliant idea. Beyond that, there is something dubbish in the production that I like. Or at least I like it more than Wayne’s Dirty Harry hashtag.
[4]

Lex don’t come around much anymore, but never mind…

[Video][Myspace]
[6.71]

Michaelangelo Matos: “Sister Mary (‘Real Love’!)/She used to tell us in the ’90s”: K Michelle is nothing if not up-front about the anxiety of influence. For her, it seems that Blige-style self-dramatization is a natural starting point rather than the culmination of a successful rebranding of yourself as lifestyle guru. As, it seems, is the leather-lunged post-Whitney-then-Mariah vocal belt. Maybe it’s because those tics are so ingrained that Michelle is so utterly believable: “Taking out my anger on any and everybody that comes around,” ouch. My own fault that I didn’t trust Lex on this one earlier.
[8]

Martin Skidmore: I totally love her. She’s a genuinely powerful soul singer, her voice carrying a ton of emotion, and the production on this is sharp and demanding. It doesn’t have the almost unbearable emotional impact on me of “Just Can’t Do This”, but if that makes this less magnificent, it also means it is easier to listen to.
[9]

Anthony Easton: The quick punching percussion emphasizes the point in quite a literal fashion, but one does not expect subtlety in this kind of hand wringing and hair pulling. Fantastic.
[9]

Alfred Soto: A stutter and a demonstration of vocal prowess powerful enough to strip the paint off a skyscraper, and, damn, if Michelle doesn’t want you to know it. Many times.
[6]

Katherine St Asaph: K Michelle forever proves she can sing a damn good C. Then proves it again and again.
[4]

Chuck Eddy: Most of this song almost strikes me as a fugue or something, repeating the same motif over and over ad infinitum, without a discernible beginning or end. I mean, how many times does she say “how many times”? I lost count. Could go on forever, and when it’s playing it seems like it does, though it only lasts four minutes. Also, I’m not sure what “the moral of the story is,” because K never tells us. Matter of fact, she never tells us the story, either — just suggests she got cheated on, and skips any potentially compelling details.
[3]

Zach Lyon: Not going to fool myself into falling for the content here — this is 10% breakup whatever, 90% show-your-goddamn-peacock-feathers. Which isn’t to say the content isn’t worthy, and with a worse singer it might actually take the spotlight (I specifically love: when the beat drops out in the chorus and comes right back in, a clever little reflection of the lyric; the entire verse about sister Mary; “This song know how I feel”; the glorious interplay between the piano and strings) and that wouldn’t be a terrible song. But this is all about 2:11 – 2:23, wrestling with and dominating the spotlight in a stranglehold, instilling enough faith in your audience that your next eight singles, at least, will be worth trying out. That moment of diva indulgence sounds like it could only be encouraged by R. Kelly (this is the first song of hers I’ve heard, so I don’t know what is and isn’t her MO) but it makes me glad to know K. Michelle is around, because there isn’t nearly enough of it right now.
[8]

And here is part two…

[Video][Website]
[6.78]

Chuck Eddy: Get-knocked-down-but-I-get-up-again pedestrian rock (as in, a song about walking –specifically, one that argues that running’s not as good–with a rhythm that sounds like walking), built atop boogie woogie keyboards out of early house music, under harmonies that feel more like soul music than any secular chart r&b in years. Well, they called it “soul” for a reason, I guess. Anyway, after a couple listens several months ago, this song was so indelibly embedded in my memory banks that, when I hear it now, I feel like I’ve known it forever. Probably my favorite single of the year, so far. And it sounds so effortless that I feel negligent for not having investigated Mary Mary further — Nothing else on their new album comes close, but as for their past, I’m clueless.
[10]

Michaelangelo Matos: Did this get left off the Boomerang soundtrack? It’s got scratches on it, praise Jesus.
[8]

Jonathan Bogart: I mean, I know Christian music is always ten years behind the curve. Lucky for them, then, that it’s been a good ten years.
[7]

Anthony Easton: Apparently, according to the Youtube comments, some controversy about the religious aspect of this video/song, but have almost no energy to handle it.
[5]

Jer Fairall: Walking as a metaphor for…resilience? Stopping to smell the roses? Hangin’ with Jesus? If you’re gonna construct your song around a platitudinal cliche, at least pick one and go with it.
[4]

Josh Langhoff: It’s about their Christian Walk and resisting the dominant culture, but it’s also a good song for literal walking — energetic mid-tempo, beautiful four-chord pattern that never resolves, good clear voices that are encouraging without making outlandish promises. Given the right weather, there are few more pleasurable activities than a humble walk. And on Mary Mary’s pretty good album Something Big, there are few more pleasurable songs than this humble centerpiece.
[8]

Martin Skidmore: I suppose we shouldn’t be surprised that a gospel duo sounds very like R&B from several years ago – gospel’s always lagged a step or two behind other soulful black vocal genres. It’s pleasant enough, well sung and quite bright and lively, but it’s also entirely lightweight.
[5]

Alfred Soto: The double Marys boast real advantages: they evoke late nineties Mary J. Blige yet project a less terrestial vibe. The production is purest late nineties Babyface too. I wish they gave me something I can feel — between my fingers, that is. They’ve got my heart already.
[7]

Edward Okulicz: You could tell me this was actually the follow-up to their 2000 hit “Shackles (Praise You)” and I’d not only believe you, but be a little disappointed I didn’t get to hear it back then. It has absolutely no friction to speak of but that doesn’t mean it’s not a breezy couple of minutes of pleasure.
[7]