It’s issues o’clock!…
[Video][Website]
[4.08]
Katherine St Asaph: Do teenage girls (because let’s be honest, that’s who this is really written for) really have a self-esteem crisis so massive that every female pop star must suddenly pen an Anthem against it? Probably not; when half the charting songs are sung at girls to make them feel like they’re being negged right there in the passenger seat, it’s no wonder alternatives sell well, whether it’s Bruno Mars-style chivalry or you-go-girl mantras like this (Dan Savage is also a factor, but there’s no real It Gets Better peg here). This one’s better than “We R Who We R” because Pink actually finished writing it, better than “Firework” for the lack of Katy Perry and frowny plastic bags, and although nobody outside the Gaga base has heard “Born This Way,” the leaked lyrics (“Orient”? Seriously?) suggest it’ll probably be better than that too. It’s sturdy as it needs to be, and the rap is decent in a Fan_3 way. But then again, nobody’s perfect, fuckin’ or otherwise, and it’s actually kind of hard to “change the voices in your head,” nullifying the message. “Don’t Let Me Get Me” was much less cloying because it had stakes.
[6]
Chuck Eddy: Pink singing a power ballad where she takes wrong turns, makes bad decisions, welcomes us to her silly life, and tells us none of that stuff slowed her down? Wow, who would’ve expected that?
[3]
Al Shipley: Seems like lately every pop star is releasing singles either aimed at da club or Oprah’s Book Club, and this is Pink’s second consecutive cheesy inspirational entry to the latter category. She wears it better than her peers, though.
[6]
Martin Skidmore: I guess this is a more serious song along the lines of the Keri Hilson single we reviewed last week. It certainly sounds heartfelt, a big ballad about self-esteem – it worked for her on her last single, so why not have another one? Worthy as its message may be, the trouble is it’s a bit of a bore.
[4]
Anthony Easton: After I gave Katy Perry shit, I feel like I should like this better — and P!nk has given some genuinely moving, kick ass songs of inspiration, but this one seems to be a little worn around the edges, a little too eager to convince us of something I am not sure she really believes.
[7]
Zach Lyon: This is just the great king of retread, isn’t it? From a melodic perspective, this is the same chorus as “Dynamite”. From a lyrical perspective, this is the same self-esteem booster as “Raise Your Glass”, which was itself a melodic retread of “Teenage Dream” (and to the surprise of no one, all four tracks were written by Max Martin). And it’s more annoying than Katy is in “Firework”, where I can at least forgive her genuineness, while Pink is just gratuitous and hacky here. And then there’s the commercial perspective, Martin and Pink and co. desperate to jump on the “fuck” train that just left the station. Of course it’s already charting.
[1]
Josh Love: Chugs along for a while as a boilerplate believe-in-yourself Bic-lifter (sample insight: “Change the voices in your head / Make them like you instead” – someone should tell Dr. Drew it’s just that simple!). However, Pink manages to cut even these palsied legs out from under herself, derailing the song’s love-yourself browbeating with a comically inappropriate disquisition on those hating-ass critics who dare to pass judgment on her (gasp!) jeans and hair.
[3]
David Moore: I often feel less than fuckin’ perfect, thank you very much. Wait, are you being fuckin’ sarcastic? I can’t even fuckin’ tell. You’re chasing your fuckin’ demons, but the sappy rising strings in the chorus could accompany a fuckin’ anti-bullying PSA. I shouldn’t even mention the fuckin’ embarrassing rap (Yeah, P!nk, us fuckin’ critics are really thinking about your fuckin’ jeans, right). Fuuuuuuck, I hope “Fuck You” didn’t irrevocably fuck up the fuckin’ pop charts with this kind of shit.
[3]
Kat Stevens: God damn you Jessie J! She’s wormed her way into my brain to the extent that instead of Pink singing “fucking perrrrrr-fect” I hear Jessie honking out “forget about the priiiice taaaag”. I guess a certain subset of teenage girls are more likely to engage with this than I am? Being a teenage girl certainly sucks a lot of the time. I shudder to imagine how much more it must suck now that Jessie J keeps interrupting things.
[2]
John Seroff: This is the sort of song where you’re reduced to grasping at lyrical straws just to find anything to say about it at all: pretty clearly, the subject of the song is plenty less than fucking perfect; no serious critic gives a shit about Pink’s hair; if all you drink is ice cold beer, you’ll be dead in a few weeks. Also, if you cut your hair and make art instead of cutting your wrists, Pink will apparently come to your opening and you’ll meet a cute guy and have his kid. Very progressive.
[3]
Alfred Soto: Yearbook quote immortality.
[2]
Jer Fairall: I often think of her as epitomizing the most banal aspects of 21st century commercial pop, made all the more annoying to me by the way her self-proclaimed rebel posture rejects the garishness of her peers by aiming herself straight towards the middle of the road. This time out, though, she actually manages to get more right than not mostly by staying her particular course. The drum-loop-and-acoustic-guitar accompaniment has always been one of my favourite mainstream pop approaches, and there’s real heart both the lyric “change the voices in your head / make them like you instead” (“like” being the key here; there is as much healthy distance in that statement between self-respect and the self-worship of many of Pink’s current chart peers as there is between the self-respect and self-loathing being addressed here) and in the graceful cello part that sneaks in immediately afterwards. I wish it didn’t have to go so crescendo-heavy at the end, though, finally overstating itself every bit as much as that unnecessary title does. That’s exactly the kind of thing that fails to distinguish you from the Christina Aguileras of the world.
[7]
Jonathan Bogart: Of course I understand the impulse, totally; you want to grab her by the shoulders and say, no, you’re wrong, there’s nothing wrong with you, you’re beautiful, you’re perfect, you don’t need this asshole, these lies, these standards, you’re better than all of this. And I hope to God the intended recipients of the song hear it and believe it. But I also know that in the moments when I was closest to that point, “you’re nothing less than perfect” would have inspired nothing but bitter laughter: you don’t know me at all, then. Individual pain hurts all the worse when faced with generic truths. The video does the hard work of contextualizing the song, of finding specificity in Pink’s platitudes; but catching it at random on the radio, there’s only the lovely sandpaper of her voice and you’re left trying to find the seam where the Fuckin’ was extracted. It’s no “Firework” — thank God — but it’s no “Sober,” “Please Don’t Leave Me,” or “Glitter in the Air” either.
[6]