Ed Sheeran Monday veers in a surprising direction by examining a song that has nothing to do with Ed Sheeran…
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Rebecca A. Gowns: Simmering want that builds up and boils over. Yamagata could sell the feeling with her voice alone, yet the instrumental adds to it tremendously, pushing the song to new heights with every iteration of the chorus. On one level, it’s raw and vulnerable, down-on-your-knees begging; on another, it’s dangerous, a siren call that pulls you in to her thrall. Is this supplication or manipulation? While you’re trying to figure it out, the song sweeps you along, and you’re pushed under the waves, spinning and reaching out for a surface that does not appear.
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Hannah Jocelyn: Overcompressed, bright mixes can often suck the joy out of perfectly good music; this is the kind of song that requires one — where the instruments maniacally push against each other, and where everything feels on the edge of collapsing into an amorphous, overdone mush, but somehow holds together. Over the course of five minutes, this builds to a crescendo that sounds like “Gimmie All Your Love,” “Damn I Wish I Was Your Lover,” and even fucking “Debra” rolled into one, complete with psychedelic mixing courtesy of Shawn Everett (who actually also mixed “Gimmie All Your Love”) and Rachael Yamagata screaming the title amidst the wave of horns and gospel choirs crashing behind her. A soulful, grandiose gem.
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Alfred Soto: The guitar tugs at Yamagata’s smoky delivery and boilerplate lyrics. The horns aren’t Muscle Shoals so much as Venice — California, that is, with Jenny Lewis in their rear view. But it works because Yamagata, in character, conveys a genuine sensual abandon while keeping her poise. The guitar solo is shit-hot too.
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Olivia Rafferty: Driven by a soulful yearning which Yamagata’s vocals effortlessly brush through: A quiet, colloquial accompaniment that grows with each iteration of “let me be your girl.” The wonderful thing is that the muted brass, gospel organ and easy tempo all lend to this comfortable Sunday morning vibe, but as the song progresses to the climax, it becomes clear that this longing that lies behind the song is almost unbearable.
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Iain Mew: One of those songs where someone takes a decent idea, even if it isn’t a new one, and has the confidence to give it the space it needs to work. Nothing spectacular, but Rachael Yamagata turns every repetition of the title line into a new twist on the feelings.
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Jonathan Bradley: I admire Rachael Yamagata’s faculty with texture: the way her bluesy jam unfurls its horn swells and guitar licks as she allows her ombré vocal to pour over it with measured precision. What “Let Me Be Your Girl” lacks, however, is impetus: it hangs in place with neither crisis nor chorus to clarify its purpose.
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Jessica Doyle: She sings with expression and charisma, but I’m the wrong audience: I’m too loyal to “Damn, I Wish I Was Your Lover” to be able to sit with a simplified version thereof.
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Ramzi Awn: There are all sorts of reasons to resist this throwback, but Rachael Yamagata does everything she can to pay it forward. And the payoff isn’t an entire waste of time.
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Katherine St Asaph: Folk-rock is so deeply unfashionable these days as to be a punchline — unless you’re a man, in which case it morphs into blues-rock and credible. There are more interesting examples of the form, but I’m still unduly pleased this exists.
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