No mention of Texas.
[Video][Website]
[3.58]
Andy Hutchins: “All Your Exes” is quintessentially Julia Michaels, overwritten to the point that it has to rhyme “logistics” with “Christmas” but with room for the gem that is “When your friends tell stories about 2017 / I know there’s parts that they leave out to be considerate of me.” Michaels’s work with longtime partner Justin Tranter has generally worked in a way that I haven’t found her stuff with new collaborator/partner JP Saxe to, because it balanced her loquaciousness with Tranter’s punchier instincts. (I’m guessing, to an extent, but Tranter’s the one with the credit on Fall Out Boy’s “Centuries.”) Saxe seems far more indulgent of Michaels, so “Exes” ends up halfway between what could have been a more amusing fantasy and what should be a more satisfying, blood-soaked romp. At least the video gets out a chainsaw that the song never quite needs, thanks to Michaels botching the delivery of “I’m the only thing you see / Yeah, I fuckin’ better be.” (Saxe the co-writer indulging what seems like unbridled narcissism is probably something Saxe the boyfriend could more productively work out with Michaels in therapy than in song.)
[4]
Al Varela: There are definitely pieces of a great song in here. I like the way the instrumentation shifts from soft to sharp, loneliness to vengefulness. I like how the writing is angry enough to convey the irrational bloodlust curdling underneath Julia Michaels’ desperation, but with its tongue buried enough in its cheek that I can have fun with this ridiculous revenge fantasy. Still, Michaels’ voice is too soft and monotone to sell either the danger of the campiness. It’d probably work better coming from someone like Ashnikko or even Doja Cat. Oh well.
[6]
Austin Nguyen: Chainsaw-wielding Scream Queens sociopathy demands “Ruby Blue” at minimum, not a 2019 beabadoobee single left in neutral.
[5]
Katherine St Asaph: This is basically Fight Like Apes’ “Recyclable Ass” with the horny/mean/possessive ratios tweaked heavily toward possessive. It’s also an acoustic ballad — which speaks for itself, really — and also an exercise in songwriting. Telling: “I think I’ve got them accurately demonized.” Showing: “THAT ONE’S A HOMEWRECKER! LOOKS LIKE WOODY WOODPECKER!”
[3]
Dorian Sinclair: “All Your Exes” is unquestionably a mean-spirited song, but there’s a gleeful unhingedness to lines like “I’m confident I’ve got them accurately demonized” that makes it a very fun listen. It helps that the music is in on the joke: The sad indie guitar accompanying the first verse is perfectly undercut by the moment of absolute silence before the chorus. If the rest of the production doesn’t quite live up to that nonverbal punchline (though the feedback at “well yeah, I fucking better be” and the abrupt halt at the end come close), it still does its job and does it well. Sometimes you just need to have a little tantrum to set you back on an even keel, and mine are rarely as well-constructed as this.
[7]
Ian Mathers: I know, I know. We’re playing characters, we’re being “outrageous,” we’re venting. Except the kids (and adults) in the comments and on Twitter and TikTok aren’t, and the real-life version of what’s being presented here is unhealthy and miserable. It’s the kind of thing you’re trapped in when trauma of one stripe or another makes you think that real love requires “drama”; when it doesn’t occur to you just how fucking weird and awful it is to be in a relationship where one or both of you is terrified by the notion of talking about your exes as if they were just, you know, people. I don’t know Julia Michaels, and I don’t know how she relates to this song, but nobody should want to date a person like the one narrating here, and nobody should want to be that person either.
[0]
Anaïs Escobar Mathers: It’s been years since I’ve walked these halls and reviewed a song, but overhearing Ian listen to this brought me to the edge. Greetings: this song would be the result of the world’s worst AI trying to create a Taylor Swift song.
[0]
Samson Savill de Jong: There’s nothing wrong with making music about inherently ugly emotions. Some of the best artwork is made exploring the darker part of our psyche, and sometimes we just want to to revel in a shitty attitude that we feel anyway. The gleeful possessiveness of “All Your Exes” inarguably fills a niche, and is no doubt a feeling many men and women have had, but I can’t say I’m one of them. Indeed, I find romantic jealousy, particularly this historical kind, incredibly off-putting, and find this neither romantic nor relatable. Something well made can allow experiences you wouldn’t imagine you could relate to feel familiar, but “All Your Exes” doesn’t pull that off. The lyrics are sharply written, but Michaels’ Lorde-style singing and the pop-rock backing track are just fine.
[4]
Jackie Powell: Every lyric and dynamic change with Julia Michaels is intentional, and that doesn’t change here. An acoustic guitar part accompanies her contralto vocal, setting the scene for the story she’s about to tell. The cheeky but also quite morbid plotline reminds me of P!nk’s Funhouse, and Michaels’ disturbing but sort of hilarious music video is very in the vein of “Please Don’t Leave Me.” Also, it’s awesome to hear rock instruments on a Michaels track rather than straight synths. JP Saxe’s lead guitar makes its grand entrance in the chorus, and it’s riveting; I’m on the edge of my seat waiting to hear where this riff goes. And then it just doesn’t. I expected Michaels to rock out. She’s got the swagger to do so. She’s holding a bloody chainsaw (pun absolutely intended) on the single cover. But the vocal explosions of tracks like “So What” or “Sober” on Funhouse just don’t happen here. I’m not saying Julia Michaels has to become P!nk, but I wonder which direction her full-length debut Not in Chronological Order will go after the sultry synth bop “Lie Like This” and now “All Your Exes.” But did Michaels just troll me? Is the whole point that her new record isn’t necessarily cohesive?
[7]
Michael Hong: In theory, this is really interesting: a stream-of-consciousness song that bends the production at the turn of each thought. But in execution, the lyrics prioritize being diaristic over flow or melody, and that first chorus feels like Michaels chasing a guitar line she’ll never catch up with. The performances on the later choruses feel discordant, a rolling guitar line matched with an aloof vocal. And then it just ends.
[3]
Nortey Dowuona: The slung-over guitar cracks in the glass while Julia lilts, waiting to parse out why her partner has so many other names on their belly. Then, over a pirouetting bass and cardboard drums, she slits the throats of their partner’s exes, grinding them up and picking her teeth with the bones, then SERIOUSLY THIS IS SCARY AF WHAT THE FUCK JULIA’S PARTNER GET AWAY FROM HER IMMEDIATELY GET AWAY GET OH NO OH FUCK SHE’S IN MY APPLE MUSIC I’M GONNA DI–
[3]
Alfred Soto: I bet Julia Michaels and her producers think the guitar interruption matches the putative novelty of their lyrics. Both suck. If this non-heterosexual person has any critiques to proffer about the majority of the population, it’s the tendency to treat relationships like discrete vacuum-packed experiences, an ever-unspooling present. This is stupid. Don’t take yourselves so damn seriously.
[1]