My heart breaks to see poor Will in such a horrible ensemble.
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[5.00]
Scott Mildenhall: With the people involved in Will Young’s last, halfway-masterpiece album on board for his next, anything seemed possible with this, and it is accordingly unpredictable; another new direction, but one not as profitable. Almost without exception, his upbeat songs have not been among his best — he might as well have stopped at “Your Game” — and that also continues to be true. Muggy, clumpy vocals are not a Will Young speciality; the words get lost amid the uptight funk, as much as their recontextualised familiarity holds the song upright. Hopefully the next single is just “Jealousy” again.
[6]
Alfred Soto: Using an O’Jays foundation and strings arranged to sound as yummy as possible, Will Young stages his own block party. I don’t like his pinched voice, and often the music conspires to treat his pallid scenario the depth he thinks it needs. Occasionally it even reminds me of such touchstones of British pseudo soul as Feargal Sharkey’s “A Good Heart.”
[5]
Anthony Easton: A tasty nugget of Euro-cheese disco, Young’s ballads have always been a strength, but this has convinced me of the pop-genius of his more upbeat numbers. I look forward to the comeback.
[10]
Megan Harrington: Whenever you’re tempted to wonder aloud why no one writes songs like Holland Dozier Holland anymore, play this instead.
[3]
Micha Cavaseno: Fitz is throwing a tantrum somewhere, wondering how he missed his mark on this shit by writing this exact sort of song years ago.
[3]
Brad Shoup: Taste the poor timing, as people mass against systematic racist violence an ocean away from Will Young’s claustrophobic appropriation of that classic floorfilling Motown sound. The fidelity’s pretty astounding, except for the rhythm guitarist, who’s just getting that check. Other than that, it’s like being visited by a ghost you thought you’d abandoned at some long-forgotten address.
[7]
Thomas Inskeep: I think Will Young is pretty great, but this is a tired pseudo-’60s retread à la Cee-Lo Green’s “Fuck You.” Everything about it screams 1966, and not in any good way, ugh.
[2]
Edward Okulicz: If you’re going to pilfer the past in a song about loneliness, might I suggest going the full Tomcraft instead?
[4]
Katherine St Asaph: Happiness. And loneliness. And happiness. And loneliness. And happiness. And loneliness. And happiness. And loneliness. And happiness. And loneliness. And happiness. And loneliness. And happiness. And loneliness. And happiness. And loneliness. And happiness. And loneliness. And happiness. And loneliness. Sometimes the revolution is boring. And happiness. And loneliness. And happiness. And loneliness. And happiness. And loneliness. And happiness. And loneliness. And happiness. And loneliness. And happiness. And loneliness. And happiness. And loneliness. And happiness. And loneliness. And happiness. And loneliness. And happiness. And loneliness.
[5]