I smell a Hershey’s tie-in…
[Video]
[4.57]
Scott Mildenhall: Something about this feels very anachronistic. It could be the sound of it — lightweight, sweet and straightforward, like it could be from 2006, an unthreatening reaction to Music Of The Sun. That would be a couple of years before the British pop industry seemed to get really organised — slicker, smaller, entry more tightly controlled. In a time where a stretch in guest vocal purgatory seems mandatory before a chart career, Steel has walked in to the top 10 with little visible groundwork. In more ways than one, it’s very easy to miss.
[5]
Micha Cavaseno: If sundrops actually functioned like rain to baptize the day and bestow a sense of relief and hope in the world, they’d sound like this riddim. Melissa is a gentle breezer of a hostess, her vocals all swaying sundress and giddy winks. Meanwhile, Popcaan, a dancehall artist I’ve always felt hesitant to embrace because of an eternal teenage quality in his voice, works wonders here to express a simple joy and romp along with Melissa. My heart melts a little, and I hope and pray there’s more of this to come before the summer comes to a close.
[7]
Anthony Easton: Dumb and unoriginal, but with a voice that rests softly ontop of a production that is angular and minimal enough to ensure that like does not attract like. The toasting is a bit anemic, though.
[4]
Luisa Lopez: Now where’s a melody bred, in the heart or in the head? This one’s all over the place, sliding up hills and rattling down stairs, sounding like a cluster of frazzled bells. It doesn’t really go anywhere, which is not a bad quality if it is the only flaw in an otherwise great or even decent song, but here the message is three days old, stale, and kisses for breakfast sounds like a particularly syrupy children’s cartoon. I would turn it off every time it came on TV, and I’ll do the same for this song on the radio, unless I come across it during Popcaan’s verse, which suddenly has the cleverness to include the line “she give me pon de bed, pon de floor,” which is so smart that it elicited a little joyful burst from me that made the sun shine down on all those Autotuned riffs.
[3]
Will Adams: For those who like their poolside cocktails with an extra shot or four of grenadine.
[4]
Brad Shoup: Clearly it’s not as heavy a breakfast as recommended, but that’s fine. Like a morning sunbeam, she’s insistent and bright and more than a little much for my level of alertness. Still, I can’t lie: she puts a lot of feel into “pour, pour“, so maybe there’s more power in the demand than I was thinking. That piano is starving, though.
[5]
Alfred Soto: From Dusty Springfield in 1969 (“Breakfast in Bed,” scamps) to Beyoncé last year, breakfast sex has served as a tasty amuse-bouche or espresso after the meal. Melissa Steel’s gormless performance doesn’t convince me she’s experienced either, and the hook is as self-satisfied as Popcaan expendable.
[4]