In which our plucky Canadian heroine ruins the ’80s for everyone…

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[4.57]

Jer Fairall: I don’t know what her international profile is like, but here in Canada Fefe Dobson started out as a less shrill, less famous Avril Lavigne back when Avril clones were the order of the day. “Can’t Breathe” only represents growth if one’s idea of maturity is Kelly Clarkson power balladry, but this one builds rather nicely to a windswept guitar solo and a T’Pau-like muttered vocal part that is charming for the very fact that I never expected anything to ever remind me of “Heart and Soul” again. I do wish the route to this grand crescendo was a bit more interesting, though, or that someone involved with this expensive-sounding production could have done something about that stiff, predictable chorus.
[6]

Alex Ostroff: Getting back on the radio has apparently required Fefe to cut a deal with the devil. Her melodic sense and evocative vocals remain intact, but the gleeful and impulsive mix of heavy grunge riffs, synthesizer beats, and pop punk snarl have been replaced by radio-friendly sheen and shimmer. She does as well as she can with ‘epic’, but I prefer Fefe getting angry and getting even to sad and needy.
[6]

Michaela Drapes: There’s something about the mushy, dull production on this that makes this feel like it’s well past the sell-by date. I’m not inherently against Orianthi’s guitar solo, but it feels like an dreary afterthought to (unsuccessfully) toughen things up. I want to be excited here — I really do! — as I’ve been a Dobson booster from way back, but I’m just bored.
[4]

Edward Okulicz: Fefe takes a weak second-Avril-Lavigne-album-ballad chorus and melds it to a mildly Tedder-esque take on the “Nothing Compares 2 U” template in the verses, sung to, and possibly for, a wind machine.
[6]

Isabel Cole: One might think a song detailing how its singer can’t breathe if she’s not breathing with her ex might have some sense of urgency, or passion, or any kind of emotion, at all. One would, apparently, be wrong.
[4]

Katherine St Asaph: What the fuck is this? I mean, I know: it’s genus All I Ever Wanted, species “Already Gone,” a track that preys on its once-great, once-difficult female rocker by cocooning her inside a windswept icicle so every feature and movement looks crystalline and muted. Which is to say, it’s reprehensible shit. Take it away, take it far away from here.
[3]

Zach Lyon: The only part of this I can be bothered to give a shit about is the drum riff, and that’s only because I just realized I’m finally tired of that drum riff. Thanks, Fefe. I can no longer listen to the 80s.
[3]