You + Me + Pink = ?
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[4.20]
John Seroff: It took a while to get past the perhaps intentionally Google-proofed nom de plume to determine that the reason we were reviewing this po-faced Once outtake boiled down to the band’s colorful alter egos. I don’t begrudge Pink for moving out of her comfort zone and lord knows we all have our burdens to bear but I’m finding it hard not to snarkily dismiss this bit of thematically vague, sylvan fluff as the lament of a couple that finds a 45 minute wait for brunch at Roberta’s.
[3]
Micha Cavaseno: Mercenary shit always leaves a bad taste in my mouth. P!nk never could make it as a white R&B singer in the post-Mary lane like she’s always secretly wanted to (watch her live concerts, you can see she who she models herself after), her mall-rock got played out, and the Max Martin dalliances led to her making eye-rolling records about affirmation with gross hooks and endlessly cliche statements that felt more like hoarser Kelly Clarkson records. No matter how hard she tries, P!nk always finds a new spin, but overdoes it to irritating excess. Now she turns to Dallas Green, the former singer of a band who went through five different stylistic evolutions yet never learned how not to suck (why does that sound familiar?), who’s been pedaling this hokey folk-maturity as City & Colour for, what, five years now? So rather than just follow her muse, fanbase notwithstanding, she releases this attempt at starting another new PHASE, in the hopes she can avoid a reality where she is not liked at her best, a concept that goes against an image that took years to create.
[2]
Alfred Soto: Twice a week I’ll review singles blind. When I heard the female singer’s rather emphatic harmonies I pegged her as a comer, way too powerful to intone the folk tropes with maidenly restraint. Songwriting tip: avoid the “They say that…” cliche introduction; you’re still trying to get away with one (maybe using a plus sign instead of an ampersand is revolutionary). Career tip: the NPR sincerity market doesn’t give a shit about you anyway. You’re more honest as a loudmouth.
[3]
Katherine St Asaph: It’s P!nk and Green, get it? I can’t seem to write a blurb about P!nk without mentioning Try This and how earth-destroying it was and how P!nk should get back to destroying earths, and now she’s gone and made something even farther from that album than The Truth About Love. But as a duet partner and career role model, Dallas Green is less concerning than Nate Ruess, and more pressingly, I am a person who uses the Lilly Pulitzer browser skin (which is also pink and green), has that browser autocomplete to the Talbots sale page, owns a copy of Once and uses the same autumnal Instagram filter on basically everything. I am part cliche, and thus I love this too. Though I might love more the fact that when I search for this on streaming the first hit is Nero.
[6]
Crystal Leww: Growing up, P!nk was the coolest pop star because she was so goddamn alt. Now we’ve both grown up a little bit, P!nk has grown into the most boring pop star with the worst taste in collaborators. Between Dallas Green and that dude from fun., all I want to do is put my arm around P!nk’s shoulders and shout, “COME ON GIRL LET’S GO THESE GUYS ARE BAD NEWS.”
[4]
David Sheffieck: The harmonies here are great, and I’m always down for some steel guitar. But both sound a bit too mournful here, more like a breakup than a love song, and, worse, those choices are the most memorable thing about the song – cognitive dissonance aside, this is slight.
[4]
Megan Harrington: Let he who is immune to the autumnal charms of “You and Me,” he who feels no longing for another Civil Wars album, he who has no lack of love, he who needs not an acoustic guitar and a lonely lyric cast the first stone.
[8]
Thomas Inskeep: No, I wasn’t particularly hoping that P!nk would get together with the guy from City and Colour to make a semi-acoustic folk-ish album, but thanks for asking. Oh wait, they didn’t ask.
[2]
Brad Shoup: When I want to hear country dabblers lowing at each other, I will always reach for “Who You Love,” not the sonic equivalent of two dusty blankets sitting in the corner of a timeshare cabin.
[2]
Anthony Easton: P!nk has always had a little of an inspirational bit, a desire to be more than a rock star, to be the moral leader. She also has also one hell of a voice. This willowy ballad moving somewhere near Carpenters harmonies and the Cali folk that never made it out of Laurel Canyon makes an argument in favor of technical skill and against novelty — and kind of succeeds.
[8]