Couldn’t quite get the right grab of them doing the whipped-cream-nipples thing, so this’ll have to do…

[Video][Website]
[6.30]

Pete Baran: That faint wash of bluegrass and a strong female vocal suddenly offers me up a replacement for that worn-out copy of the Be Good Tanyas’ “Blue Train”. And while that may seem pretty easy to replicate, I’ve been looking for ten years for this kind of good voice, with a convincing bluegrass wash. And a nicely dark vocal conceit: I’ll call it emobluegrass and put it on rotation.
[8]

Martin Skidmore: Her sweet, relaxed voice hooked me from the start. The song is a bit overly sweet (mentioning rainbows is an almost infallible sign of sentimentality), but I like the rather trad country arrangement with banjo and fiddle. Mostly the very likeable vocal carries it.
[7]

John Seroff: Maybe I’m just showing my limited experience with modern country pop by measuring each banjo-backed bit of sweetness to Taylor, but it feels fair to infer that the major label prayer of catching lightning in a bottle must be behind the sudden and rapid proliferation of twangy princesses all over the Jukebox lately. Kimberly Perry, of her eponymous band, has the buttermint sugar and softness down pat but “If I Die Young”‘s overtly poetic and morbid lyrics never mesh with her pretty vocals, creating an awkward static. Either the writing needs to be better or the vocals need nuance; the product I’m listening to is so simultaneously fatalistic and precious (fatalicious?) it might as well be a murder ballad titled “The Ballad of Cancer Puppy”. Besides all that, there’s a notable lack of development on the track; put the song on repeat and I defy you to tell me where it starts and ends. There’s something talented happening in here somewhere, but this needs more bodywork before it’s road ready.
[5]

Anthony Easton: Is this the natural extension of the pining of Taylor Swift? It is as melodramatic as any young folks’ conception of depth, but it also seems eerily suicidal. Planning death to such a capacity, and lines like “I will wear white when I come into your kingdom” adds this vestal virgin component to a fairly violent text, which makes my skin crawl.
[8]

Michaelangelo Matos: “A penny for my thoughts, oh no, I sell ’em for a dollar/They’re worth so much more after I’m a goner/And maybe then you’ll hear the words I’ve been singing/Funny when you’re dead how people start listening.” Sure, I’ll take it over Kate Nash’s LiveJournalism, but that doesn’t mean that it’s any good.
[4]

Hazel Robinson: “Funny how when you’re dead, people start listening”. For fuck’s sake. Although there is at least something naively pubescent about this anthem to dying pretty and everyone missing you.
[6]

Mallory O’Donnell: I’m confused. Do you want us to throw the roses in the river with you? Or is there some kind of intermediary step where we get rid of them? And what about the gown, shall we waste that as well? Don’t be in such a great big hurry to get married to Jesus that you leave unclear instructions as to the dispensation of your corpse. After all, those you’re leaving behind are a good deal older than you, and have practical issues to consider. You don’t want The Family Perry to waste all that money on roses and satin only to dump them and you in a fucking lake or whatever. Also, if your next song isn’t about how pissed off you are to still be alive, I want my money back.
[3]

Jonathan Bogart: Apparently this wasn’t on the soundtrack to The Last Song, which was a missed opportunity on someone’s part (someone dies in that, right? Of course they do, it’s Nicholas Sparks). It’s just as tearjerking and preciously cheerful as if it had been, though, platitudes about death from someone who sounds as though she’s never thought about it much. (People start listenin’? If only.) It’s rescued, if it is rescued, by the strategic deployment of the phrase “the sharp knife of a short life,” which many a more seasoned songwriter would kill to have come up with. Too bad the song surrounding it can’t live up to the specificity of that image.
[7]

David Raposa: The recurring “sharp knife of a short life” image might be putting too fine a point (no pun) on the song’s story, and Kimberly Perry’s voice doesn’t seem strong enough to soar when the tune calls for it. But she has more than enough character in it to perfectly accent the bittersweet sadness her words convey, and the other Perrys do a fine job paying their musical respects to a song that could have easily become an insufferably maudlin show-stalling ballad. And for the record, I get something in my eye about the time she mentions the pearls.
[9]

Alfred Soto: A shame the voice is so damn twinkly, for the arrangement is often pretty in an unforced way, and lots of unpleasant images cut into said voice. Give this to Elizabeth Cook or Lee Ann Womack and it might have been amazing.
[6]

“I just noogied my boyfriend…”

[Video][Website]
[6.12]

Frank Kogan: She dons an int’l spycoat and they give her an int’l briefcase, but the plot is muddy and her voice is muffled. I hope this isn’t Selena’s idea of stylishness.
[4]

Anthony Easton: Glamorous casting of Gomez as a spy in the house of love, can’t quite be sure that it’s about the paparazzi, but love how the work keeps pushing forward, thru singing and talking, the obsessive nature of scopophilic desire.
[8]

Katherine St Asaph: There’s Cascada-fied buzzes, space whooshes, powdered-sugar singing, and everything nice, but where’s the rush? Selena stomps through it when the lyrics suggest she should be dancing, and there’s no joy in her chorus. Probably because it’s mostly one note, one chord; at least “California Gurls” switched things up for “bikinis on top.”
[5]

Chuck Eddy: Probably more generic, and less Go-Go-rocking, than anything on her album, which could have yielded five more good singles if Hollywood had only let it. Penalized for corporate malfeasance.
[4]

Martin Skidmore: Crunchy synth-heavy pop-rock from one of the newer Disney alumni. The song is a little plain, but reasonably punchy, and Selena is very good. I wish the chorus were bigger, but it’s still a likeable single.
[7]

Jonathan Bogart: “Naturally” was a born-classic teenpop song, just a little more callow than was comfortable, with a full, dynamic setting for Gomez’ full, untrained vocals, with lots of grace notes and extra business to distract from her not-quite-ready-for-prime-time performance. But “Round and Round” is a more straightforward pop song, and she’s required to carry it herself, and she really can’t. I’d like to hear more from her once she’s settled into her skin, rid herself of the habit of choking off the beginnings of lines like she really means them, and learned how to ride a rhythm. In the meantime, we’ll always have “Naturally.”
[5]

John Seroff: Almost on first listen, “Round and Round” resounds with the clarion ping of the club striking the sweet spot. Barney’s good friend Selena is a limited instrument but she is used here to the height of her powers, disappearing into the track like a well placed effect. The melody is paint-by-numbers simple but the production is executed masterfully. Vocal and electronic trickery are used sparingly and gently; unlike so much radio flotsam, you are not so much buffeted as swept up. Like the best bubblegum, “Round and Round” retains flavor and snap far beyond expectations. Heartily recommended.
[8]

Hillary Brown: This is a smartly crafted nubbin of electro-pop, and while many of Radio Disney’s offerings fall into that category, this one is considerably sharper and better than most of them. Gomez’s vocals aren’t exactly great, but they are kind of interesting, and the tune would seem to have considerable appeal for spin class soundtracks alone.
[8]

Anything Pendulum can do…

[Video][Website]
[6.25]

Hazel Robinson: Oh for fuck’s sake, Chase and Status, Pendulum were always going to turn into a big stupid rock act but that doesn’t mean you have to. It takes until halfway through when the ridiculous bass dramatics that make Against All Odds such an awesome album for storming around late at night to to sweep in. Good enough, but I really hope the rest of the new stuff will have more rhythmic dickery to the balls-out lairiness.
[8]

Frank Kogan: Deep and dramatic growling embedded in rock power chords. I’ve spent the last two decades mostly hating such stuff, but I don’t hate it on principle; in fact, I’m a sucker for the dark and dramatic, even when it’s just kitsch for boys. I think I don’t like it mainly when it’s slow and weighed-down with leaden gestures. Well, this one’s plenty slow, but it gets me, the deep pounding and the high techno atmospherics. Dark metal where I wasn’t expecting it.
[7]

Jonathan Bogart: Unexceptional (and unexceptionable) burbling house backing, a surprisingly powerful vocal from someone Google tells me was an X-Factor reject, and then it just slips into neutral, coasts, and dies. I’m sure an extended dance mix would be the best way to hear this song, but I’m not sure it give us any more than we already have.
[7]

Martin Skidmore: He’s a tremendous singer, powerfully passionate and exciting, and the production duo provide a comparably big backing, with dramatically orchestrated urgent beats. One of the most rousing dance tracks of the year, and the best thing I’ve heard from Chase & Status.
[9]

David Raposa: Someone give Mali a Mojito and a handjob, and get Chase and Status a dude diva with a little less emo in his vocal vom to ride this beat.
[4]

Mallory O’Donnell: Really, this could have shone as the UK’s entry to Eurovision this year. What it’s doing during the regular season is a mystery. Mali is apparently some kind of grunge-metal refugee drugged and exposed to a relentless bombardment of gay gospel-house records, but he rides the… erm… beat like he was born to be alive. Or like his roommates have just eaten the last of his leftover pizza. Which is all the more puzzling because the song itself is really little more than an extended bridge erected purely for the purpose of getting Mali to the synth-bounce freakout that even Chase & Status themselves seem to be in a hurry to get through. Then there’s the horrible part where they thrash around like some kind of robo-trance Tool. For Mr. Chase or Mr. Status, whichever of you might be reading this, I have only the following five words: you, this, FYR Macedonia, 2011.
[4]

John Seroff: “Let You Go” sounds like the cockeyed stab of an anxiety attack feels: imperative, panicked and disorienting. Histrionic in the extreme and wildly rambling, this owes an odd debt to hair metal. It’s not like I’ve much cared for past Chase and Status Jukes, but at least they weren’t mistakable for house remixes of White Lion B-Sides.
[4]

Anthony Easton: One of those rare cases where too many cooks made something absolutely delicious — paranoid and slightly manic stalker anthem that makes all previous attempts at the genre profoundly creepy.
[7]

We appear to have made up our minds, at last…

[Video][Website]
[7.71]

Martin Skidmore: One of my favourite new singers of recent years, with a strong soul voice and a complex feel for rhythm and timing. This is a really good song, too, offering plenty of scope for her vocal chops and substantial emotional content. The production is modern R&B, with ample space for her. One of my favourite singles of the year.
[9]

Jonathan Bogart: The production’s a deeeliteful return to the glory days of 1996, plenty of open spaces for her to fill in with meaning and emotion, but she’s less orgiastic than many of her peers, and the song’s structure takes an aloof, abstract approach to the emotion at its heart. The result is a dizzying blast of post-retro r&b that spiderwalks its way into the future. I’d almost call it psychedelic, but architecturally rather than sonically, and we need to be inventing new vocabularies instead of relying on the old ones anyway.
[10]

Al Shipley: Every classic hip hop break is going to get recycled a dozen times by contemporary R&B, but new rule: once a sample’s been used on one hit that’s a modern classic in its own right, either top it or leave it alone. And this doesn’t close to touching the use of the “Make The Music With Your Mouth, Biz” drums on Mya’s “Best Of Me (Remix).”
[3]

Katherine St Asaph: About 10-15 years ago, this might have sounded really derivative. Nowadays, it sounds more like record-scritchy, vocal-crashing joy.
[7]

Michaelangelo Matos: Like most of the parts here: the dusty breakbeat, the piano and sitar, the raw vocal. But it never totally coheres for me.
[6]

Hazel Robinson: Jazmine’s honey-over-sandpaper voice holds its own in a clusterfuck of every r’n’b sound since about 1994. Spellbinding, instantly singable and like a selection box of a thousands of particularly delectable truffles where you can keep deciding each new variant is your actual favourite. The ever-changing background fits the mood of the song perfectly, too, confused and turning on the spot in an ADHD iPod-on-shuffle skip of obsession. I just wish Missy Elliot would stop insisting on turning up to squeak things.
[10]

Alex Macpherson: A rich tapestry of samples provides the backdrop for a desperate, self-recriminating Jazmine Sullivan on “Holding You Down”: they chop and change as though she’s flicking obsessively through radio stations, and soon she’s as caught up in them as in her own cycle of codependence. The song’s constant switch-ups are tied together by one of her finest vocal performances to date. For an artist who trades so much on raw emotion, Sullivan’s debut showed her to be surprisingly stagey singer at times, but on “Holding You Down” she sounds genuinely on the verge of hysteria, pacing back and forth in a figure of eight to stop herself bouncing off the walls.
[9]

In case you’re wondering, yes, we had planned to go with the poster for “Who Dat Ninja”, but couldn’t find one big enough…

[Video][Website]
[6.30]

Martin Skidmore: Jay-Z’s first signing to his possibly Jays-only label, and this is an introduce-myself single, with some tolerably lively disses. His flow is okay if routine, and the beats are much the same. I like it well enough, but it’s hardly an explosive intro.
[6]

Michaelangelo Matos: Jay-Z’s ear for hooks and tracks went a while ago, but based on this evidence his ear for talent remains strong. It’s minimal without being bare, a canny showcase for Cole as a raw spitter rather than a hookmeister or pop aspirant, and while it’s not exactly great it’s quite refreshing to come across in 2010.
[7]

Alex Macpherson: When people talk about a particular genre or scene’s commercial dominance over any given period, it’s usually the figureheads that get held up as examples. The real marker, though, is the presence of the second and third tier of generic performers who get swept along in the wake of the trailblazers and superstars; the Mandy Moore to Britney Spears, the Memphis Bleek to Jay-Z. Those artists won’t ever be historicised as significant, but they’re usually good for a few fond memories. J. Cole fits that mould exactly: “Who Dat” is a solid, loping banger that gets by on an excellent beat rather than his personality, and it seems rather more refreshing than it normally would given that the actual commercially dominant names in hip-hop right now are insipid whiners like Drake.
[7]

Alfred Soto: “Hungry like a nigga who ain’t got the taste of fame yet,” he boasts, and for once the artist is right: just when I’m ready to tune him out he yanks me by the collar with a killer intonation here and an Outkast sample there.
[7]

John Seroff: Cole claims to be Will Smith to the hood but he sounds like a watered down Kanye or, less kindly, a Drake that can kind of rap. Excepting the hint of Axelrod in the melody, there’s mighty slim pickins to hold my attention and the aimless one-liners ain’t helping. I miss the days when a young, untested would-be would gun for an established cat rather than not “naming names”; even tinned beef beats rapping about nothing. As it stands, I’m still not sure who Cole is and on the strength of “Who Dat”, I’m not in any hurry to find out.
[4]

Jonathan Bogart: Pleasant snapping beat, standard self-congratulatory rhymes, not enough to distinguish him from the rest of the Class of 2010. I wouldn’t change the station, but I wouldn’t remember it a half-song later either.
[5]

Al Shipley: His initial associations and guest spots suggested he’s one of those southern rappers with a New York state of mind, so it’s a pleasant surprise that this actually sounds like it was made by someone from south of the Mason-Dixon. It sounds more like something Timbaland would’ve given a southern rapper a decade ago than anything contemporary, but that’s not really a bad era to evoke if he’s gonna come off out of step with the times.
[7]

Rodney J. Greene: The whole “North Carolina rap act really wishes to be from New York” thing was pretty damned lame when Little Brother did it, but seems more admissible now that the two best East Coast rappers are from New Orleans. Just as with LB before, J. Cole harkens for a previous version of the Five Boroughs. Cole’s retro-York is an early 2000s NYC where Just Blaze was the go-to guy for grimy bangers and being slightly less of a knucklehead than Sheek Louch seemed like a viable path for a rapper to pursue, even if they looked more like Wordsworth than Billy Danze. Any risk of redux is abated by Cole’s more contemporary rap style, for better and worse. He avoids garbage bag lines, but not a clunker or two. Still, he ellicits more guffaws than groans (my favorite line being “I was plottin’ this moment back when y’all was ridin’ spinners”), and I feel like, as a lyricist, he would be fine with or without the post-Wayne conventions he uses. They seem like choices, not crutches.
[8]

Chuck Eddy: Percussion reminds me of B. Rich appropriating second-line New Orleans Mardi Gras R&B; brief interjected rock guitar snippets remind me of something really old-school I can’t put my finger on (Adventure? Rockmaster Scott? hmmm); his flow even momentarily reminds me of Coolio. All of which I’m sure are accidental. And most of the words either fly right by me or make me wish I wasn’t listening, but I like that he has nice things to say about the Fresh Prince, and has no qualms about playground-chanting “anything you can do I can do better” (though could do without it rhyming with “screw” and “wetter.”) “J. Cole was born in Frankfurt, Germany, and then shortly after moved to Fayetteville, North Carolina,” Wiki says — gotta be an Army brat. (Fayetteville = Fort Bragg.) And then he went to St. John’s University — just like DMC, in the place to be.
[7]

Erick Bieritz: “When you thinking about summer time, I’m thinking about the winter / When you thinking about breakfast, I’m heating up my dinner.” That doesn’t make you a winner. It makes you an Eastern Hemisphere Antipodean.
[5]

“But I specifically asked for Clarks…”

[Video][Website]
[4.86]

Alex Macpherson: T.I. reprises “Whatever You Like”, remains fine while doing so. There’s nothing striking about “Got Your Back”, but like “Whatever You Like”, neither is there a moment of it that isn’t enjoyable.
[7]

Alfred Soto: Standard issue hip-hop jetsetting, done to better effect on Rick Ross and Ne-Yo’s recent “Super High.” It isn’t just T.I.’s inability to push against the usual tropes, it’s how the colorless Keri Hilson sounds unworthy of the expense.
[4]

Martin Skidmore: Keri sings the catchy hook with a firm warmth, which I like a lot. It’s also nice to hear a male rapper being positive about women. TI sounds great when swaying along with the beats, but he more or less sings some of it, and that is very poor indeed, but the rest of it carries it through well.
[7]

Kat Stevens: Like a labrador with a Louis Vuitton collar, Keri placidly vows to help T.I. cross the road without the slightest hint of self respect or even a tiny difference of opinion. Keri only brushes her hair in the morning because it will make T.I. feel better while he’s in prison, and as her reward the grateful T.I will take her to fashion shows and let her ride in fast cars. Her loyalty is admirable but it’s so one-dimensional that my inner feminist is Not Happy. I imagine there’s a whole load of anxiety, doubt and heartache you could sing about in this situation (102 episodes‘ worth, in fact): sticking by your man even though you’re not sure he’s in the right, or how difficult it is to put on a brave face. Keri’s album showed she could do conflict and tension very well indeed, so her portrayal as an unchanging materialist who might as well disappear when T.I closes his eyes is very disappointing. The song is equally shallow, built on beige coloured Duplo blocks nicked from the local lobotomy clinic, designed only to make comfortable, recogniseable, pasteurised chords, ensuring T.I.’s visiting hours go smoothly.
[2]

Jonathan Bogart: Has the law of diminishing returns set in for Tip, or am I just in a crotchety mood? His sense of timing remains as nimble and fleet as ever, but I can’t shake the feeling that we’ve heard all this before, usually better. Keri Hilson’s wan attempt at being more than 2009’s It Girl doesn’t exactly help; they’re both skilled professionals, and this isn’t bad or anything, just relatively uninspired.
[6]

Rodney J. Greene: This doesn’t completely bend pop to T.I. or Tip to pop like “What You Know” or “Whatever You Like”, leaving both its rappings and its trappings more fitful than fitting. That said, Miscarry Baby sure does know her way around an obvious hook.
[6]

Al Shipley: The less said about the rapping and the chorus the better, so I’ll focus on minor details: I hate these Toomp beats where the taps on the dome of the cymbal are almost louder than the snare drum.
[2]

INDIE SPOTLIGHT!!!…

[Video][Website]
[4.50]

John Seroff: “Ivy and Gold” is a jaunty gallop of earnest folk buoyed up by a light touch and a music box melody. There are thin ribbons of spring sunshine, “Misty Mountaintop” and something gently heartfelt, but they run through a thick slurry of twee, Wes Anderson-esque nostalgia and too precious vocals. Pretty, but not one I’m likely to hang on to for long.
[6]

Michaelangelo Matos: Slightly jazzy folk played by indie Brits from Crouch End. Livelier than that sounds, not that it makes it all that much more interesting.
[5]

Anthony Easton: The ethnic history and politics of Crouch End seem really important to understand this track, but I am not from London, so I can safely dismiss this as anglo Vampire Weekend, except Vampire Weekend seem to be having fun, and are less obligatory.
[4]

Martin Skidmore: Folky acoustic playing, with banjos and all, which is okay with me, but the singer shows no sign of doing anything except trying to hit the notes. It sounds sort of simpleminded, as well as very tedious. I sort of like the banjo refrain, so some points for that, but it’s pretty dismal otherwise.
[5]

Mark Sinker: Is Suren de Saram related to the avant-garde cellist Rohan de Saram? I find it a bit disheartening that the BBClub ‘s wikipedia page is longer than Rohan’s.
[4]

Chuck Eddy: Might have actually liked this as a Yellow Magic Orchestra/Kyu Sakomoto-type instrumental (well, okay, I guess “Sukiyaki” technically had vocals, but they were in Japanese, so same difference to Americans). And when the feeble singer here mewls along with the undeniably pretty Eastern-sounding melody parts, it’s passable. But then he doesn’t.
[4]

Jonathan Bogart: I’ve always hated aggression and metal and blood and violence and bullies, but damned if this doesn’t make me want to kick sand in these kids’ faces. Say something that means something! Or if that’s too hard, be interesting! Anything but this twinkly gauzy lifestyle wallpaper bullshit!
[2]

Katherine St Asaph: It’s definitely pleasant to listen to in a pastoral, scratched-out-of-the-earth way. The melody repeats itself a few times too often, though, and eventually starts reminding me of this guy at a show I was at who told me I needed to quit being so uptight and “Quaker out”. This song wants me to Quaker out.
[6]

INDIE SPOTLIGHT!!!…

[Video][Website]
[4.11]

Doug Robertson: Well, they’ve got the “escape” part sorted out. It‘s almost an abundance of escape, with its floaty vocals and meadow fresh guitars. It’s just a shame they didn’t include the “fire”.
[5]

Hazel Robinson: If you’ve ever wished Interpol would record a record with The Magic Numbers then it is your lucky day.
[5]

Pete Baran: It feels that there hasn’t been a successful band that has sounded a bit like this for quite some time. Now whether that means the world has been waiting for a band that sounds like this to make successful, or the world has routinely rejected bands that sound like this is difficult to say. My gut feeling is that the music is all there, but it will go down to how good Fanfarlo are in an interview. Because as fine as the music is, it seems to project a lack of personality that can only be compensated by a decent inkie interview or two. Also known as “Take Teenage Fanclub Bowling” syndrome.
[6]

Martin Skidmore: A lightier, poppier version of The Arcade Fire, this chamber pop number has plenty of strings and so on, and a choked, lifeless singer. It wants to be a bouncy and classy pop number, but it doesn’t get there, despite a reasonably bright opening.
[3]

Chuck Eddy: There are frilly hints of (post-Morrisey, maybe?) flamboyance in the singing here that suggest this might not be totally worthless. But if they want more points, they’ll need a more coherent song.
[2]

Iain Mew: This is undeniably pretty, and I’m generally one to stand up for pretty. Especially when said pretty is achieved via brass and synth arpeggios. Fanfarlo sit at a particularly bad point on the style scale though, where the prettiness is compromised for song structure but their song can’t stand up by itself and carries on leaning on the (reduced) prettiness. Everything is too forgettable and fluffy as a result. As far as British bands inviting comparisons to the Arcade Fire go, you’re far better off with Broken Records.
[4]

Alfred Soto: Pretty, maximalist, miserabilist. They could have called their song “Back Scrubber” and still used the trumpets.
[3]

Michaelangelo Matos: “I think I slip, I think I fall.” Is this guy giving himself stage directions? Maybe he could extend this courtesy to the instruments, not to mention his own fuzzy-headed voice.
[4]

Jonathan Bogart: Are they re-releasing it in the hopes of getting it to play over the gloriously sun-dappled images of two insanely beautiful white children running through soft-focus fields in a trailer to an indie movie? Because that’s about all I hear in it.
[5]

Because now = INDIE SPOTLIGHT!!!…

[Website]
[4.64]

Jonathan Bogart: How do you take a piano line that funky and make something so unfunky out of it? I like the cut-n-paste vocal breaks, and the chorus is a proper singalong, oo-sound whoops and all, but it’s ultimately just too generic and pleased with itself to love.
[6]

Chuck Eddy: I am familiar with the sarcastic phrase “Who died and made you king?,” and I suppose it’s about time somebody put it into a song. But is the “of anything” something Sara added, or some sort of regional variation? If the former, her talk parts alternating with hiccup parts don’t add up to nearly enough panache to make me care whether she’s being clever or just pretentious. But I don’t mind the precious hints at jazzish/soulish arrangement; this’d sound even blanker otherwise.
[3]

Michaelangelo Matos: The spiritual offspring of Meredith Brooks’ “Bitch,” one of the foulest records ever made, only instead of a chorus pitched not at giggly 12-year-olds getting off on kinda-swearing in public, Bareilles offers a chorus that isn’t charmingly juvenile but brazenly childish: “Who cares if you disagree/You are not me,” its curling opening note hit with the same phony conviction that is the mark of quality on every Sara Bareilles joint.
[1]

Al Shipley: She comes off way too cute and sweet for this song to be the effective dressing down it’s aiming for, but the overall effect is charming nonetheless. Nice unexpected bit of punch in the drums and handclaps, too.
[8]

Alfred Soto: Robust piano hook and the kind of lyrics that would please Aimee Mann. Rather glib, though, but she’s a more interesting singer than Mann, so here’s hoping she sinks her teeth into something more substantial.
[6]

Martin Skidmore: Obvious vocal skills, but the fuck-you elements of the song are not backed up by any muscle, and the whole thing reminded me rather of Shania’s “That Don’t Impress Me Much”, and I suspect she wanted something different from that. It’s not as catchy as that by a long way, and the opening is annoying.
[3]

Pete Baran: The type of track talk shows need to survive, Sara manages to solidfy her ever so slightly distinctive style, which is something when the infantry of piano-based singer-songwriters are routinely getting slaughtered on the fields of pop battle.
[7]

Doug Robertson: Someone should probably tell Sara that Ally McBeal was cancelled in 2002 and besides, Vonda Shephard would’ve killed before giving up that gig.
[4]

Mallory O’Donnell: I look forward to hearing this in CVS.
[3]

Katherine St Asaph: As a gateway female singer-songwriter, Sara is likable enough, and the piano jaunting here is more lively than many songs like it. But every time I hear a Sara Bareilles song, all I can think of is the dozens of more interesting artists out there. Music might not be a zero-sum game, but time is.
[5]

John Seroff: There’s a few nice turns of phrase in “King of Anything” (“so busy making maps/with your name on them in all caps” stands out) but these are bloodless jabs, empty within the context of Bareilles’ tale-as-old-as-time of the quiet girl who isn’t going to put up with your shit anymore. Long single short: you’re so vain that she probably wrote this song about you. Or maybe for you. Or who cares, whatever; why look too closely? This may not sound like much but it does sound like a hit, so quit peeking behind the curtain and roll with the formula. Besides, it’s your night out; what’s wrong with a bit of entitled empowerment-lite, especially when it comes with a singalong chorus? Nothing exactly, but the point here seems to be that you shouldn’t have to settle for someone who doesn’t respect your intelligence. I agree.
[5]

This, obviously, is a hangover from Visual Illustration Thursday…

[Website]
[6.80]

Edward Okulicz: Laura finally unleashes her album’s big pop moment as an actual single. That’s a relative statement, of course, because while “Darkness Descends” has big hooks that lend themselves to a singalong, it’s still understated and folksy and gorgeous. Eerie whistles poke through the strumming, the lyrics are poetic and evocative but hard to pin down and Laura’s best instrument — her voice — gets to show its versatility.
[10]

Rebecca Toennessen: Takes a while to get going, but this is growing on me. Laura’s voice isn’t anything special but it’s nice enough, and the folky-poppy guitar and singalong chorus are rather fun.
[6]

Kat Stevens: The doom-laden combination of flute and acoustical finger-picking conjures up a floral-framed scene where excessively cute bunnies and hedgehogs scamper over each other, tumbling down a sun-kissed hillock like they’re auditioning to advertise a new brand of organic butter named after Beatrix Potter. I half expect Toyah Wilcox to warmly announce over tweeting birds that it’s free from artificial colours and sweeteners. So it’s pleasantly jarring to instead hear Laura telling us of her massive fuck-ups, paranoia and awkward childhood memories. For Laura it’s not summer at all, it’s cold and miserable and she’s wasted her life, and to make matters worse there’s this goddamn cheerful Farthing Wood music bobbling along in the background. No wonder she thinks she’s going mad.
[8]

Chuck Eddy: I do detect a pinch of Renaissance Faire folke in ye olde guitars and quasi-Gregorian chanting. But when it comes to words, she sings like a detached priss. And frequently a narcoleptic one, to boot.
[4]

Tal Rosenberg: Singing over warm flutes but projecting no warmth in her voice, this song, with its ambiguous subject matter disguised in twee clichés (dark rooms, snow falling on precious Laura’s face), leaves me, at best, lukewarm.
[5]

Martin Skidmore: I’m still not quite falling for her, though the bouncier parts of this do appeal, and most of the lyrics are strong. I struggle a bit trying to fit her intonation and expression with the ups and downs of the song, but basically this is quite fun and quite interesting.
[7]

Jonathan Bogart: Perfectly lovely, a quiet hum that picks up into a soothing gallop without ever daring you to pay attention. Coffeeshops everywhere rejoice.
[7]

Alfred Soto: “I wouldn’t want to ruin something I couldn’t save” compensates for the line about falling snow making a home “upon” her face, and that’s how it goes with this far from unpleasant quasi-folk ballad: just when you think you’ve got her pegged, a rushed intonation here and a tempo shift there and sarcasm everywhere.
[7]

Alex Macpherson: Singles aren’t really the point of an artist like Laura Marling, but it’s still galling that she’s followed up an impressive statement of artistic purpose like “Devil’s Spoke” with the two most conservative cuts on I Speak Because I Can. On “Darkness Descends”, Marling shrugs off life’s travails with a wry acceptance, her man behind her all the way; it’s a jaunty counterpoint to the intensity surrounding it on the album, but it sounds like an off-cut from her debut in isolation.
[6]

Katherine St Asaph: Mercury nomination aside, it isn’t surprising that Laura Marling is still under a lot of people’s radar. She’s a female musician who is not particularly quirky, sexualized or angry, leaving too many people with no response but to mutter “quaint”, shrug and move on. They’re missing out on one of the best albums of the year, of which “Darkness Descends” is a perfect example: it takes a while to grow on you, but once it does, it absolutely devastates.
[8]