Not quite what it sounds like…
[Video][Website]
[6.14]
Anthony Easton: The question of congregationalism and personal relationships to Jesus have been flummoxing American protestants since Jonathan Edwards, and this Jesus save me song, does not really begin to solve them. What I love about it, is that it has all of the sleazy details–the suicide, the blinking light, the cheap motel room, the loneliness and isolation that read like erotic desperation–even that ultimate cheating line: “he met her in a motel room”–and then turns her heel on the whole mess. She didn’t mean an anonymous lover in a motel room, she renewed her commitment to faith, and that renewed commitment delivered her. There is something profound in the sinner’s prayer aspect of this, the rock bottom baptist, who ends up being saved by the sentimental tropes of country music. Recursive, heart breaking, and mystical, in a white trash, working class sort of way. Way smarter than it has any right to be.
[9]
Brad Shoup: Is it awful or trite that my definitive Gideon Bible song is still “Rocky Raccoon”? I don’t doubt that Sebastian’s tale has real roots, but there’s something about the flippancy with which fleabag motels are booked that lends itself well to the idle flipping of the Good Word. Strange that the crying violin seems to testify loudest.
[5]
Jonathan Bogart: Well done to a televised singing-competition performer attempting a first single with some moral ambiguity to it, but the usual sentimental backing exerts a gravitational force that turns it into one more thing to walk down the aisle to.
[4]
Patrick St. Michel: Certainly did not expect a born-again-Christian number based on the title, but that’s exactly what Gwen Sebastian wants with a song name like that and the first verse which doesn’t really reveal what’s going until the chorus gives it away. Musically, this is pretty content to slowly unfold and nothing more, but Sebastian’s simple lyrics do the hard work anyways. The fact she avoids a big, revelatory climax in favor of understated observations is a nice touch.
[6]
Iain Mew: My favourite things about this song, in ascending order of importance: 1) The degree to which it reminds me of (self-described country singer) Hello Saferide; 2) The gorgeous way that the strings wend through it, and that Gwen sings with restraint but certainty to match; 3) Its superb handling of its narrative, where all of the emphasis is on the desperate circumstances and not on the revelation and conversion because there would be no way to make that sound adequate. Yet even as she’s singing that “no choir sang a sweet forgiveness tune” she’s still planting an idea of that choir and perfect words, and a feeling that whatever unknown did happen was still every bit their equal.
[8]
Will Adams: I’m not that familiar with country (working on it!), but I can tell that this staring-at-the-ice-at-the-bottom-of-your-glass-at-2AM ballad is a staple in the genre. It’s understated and competently performed, not something I’d actively seek out again but pleasant enough for driving alone with the radio turned up halfway. I do like the sustained chord outro; paired with the soft fade, it’s really the right, and only, way to end an endeavor this modest.
[5]
Alfred Soto: Let’s give this shrewdie credit: she pulls off the year’s best bait and switch. She sings credibly too; she knows not to push the bathetic images of Gideon bibles and churches. On the other hand she, like Kellie Pickler, does much better when suggesting – if not reveling – in sin.
[6]