What was your drinking game for the Grammys?
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[4.43]
Alfred Soto: In 2012 Niemann cut the best bro-country drinking album to date, its aesthetic success resting on its ambitious arrangements. Other than Pro Tooled gulped vocals, he sounds desperate for Luke Bryan dough.
[3]
Daniel Montesinos-Donaghy: The night kicks off with an atmosphere of peppy mood-building: swirling electronics, piano vamps, casually rolling bass. Minutes later, the night closes on the exact same instruments but the context has changed: the reserve of these sounds makes the party come off like a downer. The closing piano note rings in the distance, echoing into someone’s half-empty bottle of Bud Light. Sad, really. Long before we swirl down the bro-country void, Niemann clumsily attempts recreating himself as an Auto-Tuned lothario, the most iconic cowboy/robot combo since Westworld. Yul Brynner, you crazy for this one!
[4]
Katherine St Asaph: Niemann tries to replicate the electro throb of pop radio’s club brindisi with his acoustic palette; totters between sounding buzzed and disturbed.
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Patrick St. Michel: It’s gotta be a joke, right? Or maybe Jerrod Niemann is actually committed to what he’s cooking up in the verses? His decision to drizzle his voice in Auto-tune is interesting, but it’s tough to tell if he’s doing it for laughs or really trying to make himself stand out. Problem is, he ditches it for the chorus, which is a typical drink-drank-drunk thing that sounds standard as it gets.
[3]
Anthony Easton: This is redeemed by the phrase “turning all the wrongs into right”, and how quickly he spits out some of the lyrics. He’s still solid B-list, and not even as interesting as fellow B-listers Gilbert or Moore, but there is a minor pit of redemption.
[4]
Brad Shoup: Hell, if you’re going to swipe pop-rap cadences, why not go for Auto Tune? Why not get absurd? It fits, oddly enough, quite well with the grandiosity of the refrain, wherein he puts a nice flourish on the last line. Like most drinking songs, it’s a self-fulfilling prophecy, with desperate clutching at party tropes and portentous touches like piano decay destined to fuck with your headspace. Even the ska bridge seems designed to mock and boost at the same time.
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Megan Harrington: A song like “Drink to That All Night” isn’t concerned with the consequences, but check out those drink prices! Is it really $4 for bottled (domestic?) beer in Atlanta? “Swamp water” is a Southern Long Island iced tea — potent and vomit inducing, all for the same price as Bud Light. Drinking all night is a more delicate balance than this song would indicate. Instead of wasting nearly $50 following Niemann’s watery lead, take my advice and slam three of those swamp waters before 1 A.M. and pass out in a pool of your own neon-lime green regret.
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