The first appearance of the words “Glen Campbell” on nu-Jukebox to date…
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Jonathan Bogart: Once upon a time, there was a young Californian who played guitar and sang. Some of the songs he sang were some of the greatest songs ever written or sung; others of them were nice to listen to, but nothing special. Like all people, even Californians, he eventually grew old, and people who had loved his old songs when they too were young tried to make new ones for him to sing before he died. They were not as good as the old songs, but they couldn’t be. Playing guitar and singing isn’t what it used to be. Hell, California isn’t either.
[7]
Alfred Soto: This man’s out-of-nowhere comeback sports the desperation of the doomed: gargantuan string section and catchy acoustic hook mixed so high you can practically see Campbell’s long thumbnail plucking the strings. I do wish it were better, for which I blame Paul Westerberg, unable to resist sentimentalizing (this thing boasts “spirits makin’ love in a wheat field with crows,” gosh) as Campbell himself. With Rick Rubin officiating, this marriage is only too perfect.
[6]
Brad Shoup: Paul Westerberg composing the title track of Glen Campbell’s farewell album – that sound you hear is Paste‘s editorial staff changing their drawers. The lyric is well-intentioned mythologizing nonsense given poignance by Campbell’s Alzheimer’s diagnosis and an exemplary AM Gold approximation. He airs it out on the bridge, under the slashing, ascending strings, eradicating the lukewarm specter of the pop-country intro. As a valedictory, as a throwback, it’s great; as a song I suspect it’ll hold up about as well as Johnny Cash’s Rubin period.
[7]
Hazel Robinson: I’m not totally sure what I expected from this swansong from an artist I’m not sure I’ve consciously heard before, but this is gorgeous — gentle, romantic and full of the major-key swirls Elbow are so keen on. The swell of the eponymous line in the chorus is particularly sweet, and the flourish of a brief sixties guitar interlude is surprisingly funky.
[8]
Sally O’Rourke: Glen Campbell is a national treasure, even if his once-effortless croon has lost its strength and sheen. Paul Westerberg is an American treasure, even if “Ghost on the Canvas” is only memorable for its strained wordplay. Together, the two have crafted the ideal farewell single: tasteful, melancholy, and unlikely to distract from Campbell’s actual legacy.
[6]
Katherine St Asaph: Soaringly, immaculately competent and little more. Which still leaves soaring and immaculate.
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