The Homecoming Incident?

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[4.60]

Katherine St Asaph: She’s so lucky, she’s a star, but she cry-cry-cries in her lonely heart. But the difference between “Lucky” and “Homecoming Queen?” is that while “Lucky” is presented as true — not first-person but might as well be — “Homecoming Queen?” is all projection and questions directed at someone who, in the lyric, may or may not be secretly troubled. The song is meant as an inspirational salve, to gently smooth away a lie, but it too conceals a lie. Even if we accept that the titular homecoming queen is as saintly as portrayed, doesn’t have a perfectly blessed inner life, and isn’t herself “mean” — a stretch, already — plenty of people feel sorry for the homecoming queens of the world. There is no lack of empathy for the powerful and popular. The sky won’t fall if they lose their composure (unless it will; ask Britney), because the homecoming queen is protected by her status (ask the people for whom “losing their composure” takes place, say, in school detention, or near a shitty partner or boss, or in the eyesight of a cop.) The lyric is carefully written but yet another hug up, not down; the songwriters may claim that “we’re all this person,” but I wonder who “we” and “all” doesn’t cover. As usual, glurge in words receives banality in accompaniment: in this case basically Colbie Caillat’s “Bubbly.”
[3]

Alfred Soto: A pretty way of saying “I hope the Russians love their children too.” 
[6]

Joshua Lu: The central themes are hardly revelatory, and Brandy Clark did much more with a similar title some years ago. But Kelsea Ballerini delivers these platitudes genuinely enough to stir sentiments of nostalgia and regret, and the song thus feels essential despite probably not being so.
[6]

Michael Hong: Kelsea Ballerini’s music tends to touch on nostalgia, often painting her country-pop in sepia tones and “Homecoming Queen?” is no different. Here, she returns with the same mindset, but instead of dwelling on her high school crush, Ballerini struggles with the concept of the closed-off popular girl, playing out like a sketch of the latest Netflix teen rom-com. There’s vulnerability in Ballerini’s lower registered backed only by the acoustic guitar, but as the instrumentation gets more complex, the track feels intensely crowded. Ballerini gives a fine performance, but that overproduction makes “Homecoming Queen?” feel completely performative, and it loses its personal touch.
[5]

Jonathan Bradley: Probably I’m conflating the titular title with prom queens and pageant winners and such other stock personages of small town Americana, but I thought crying was something the homecoming queen was supposed to do: her emotional extravagance in symmetry with the spectacle for which she forms the focal point. “Even the homecoming queen cries,” as a hook feels less a revelation, then, than a misreading of milieu: a muffed dramatic sting. That’s unusual from Kelsea Ballerini, who, now 26 years old, draws adeptly from American high school as a site of myth and tradition, finding unexpectedly compelling drama in its familiar lines. (Think of “High School,” which is Springsteen’s “Glory Days” without the bonhomie, or “Underage,” which shivers with the excitement of youth yet aches like it’s over already.) However, even with an unfocused lyric — is this homecoming queen’s tough daddy and reticent mother more stereotype, or has she by the second verse become a half-finished sketch of a particular person? — Ballerini is able to rely on one of her great strengths as a performer: she sounds like she cares about the people she sings about. For her, they’re not characters, but intimately real and worthy of empathy. With a picked acoustic guitar line that circles like a slow dance and a soft shimmering arrangement that sparkles like stars over a bonfire, you could get swept up in the beauty of it all.
[7]

Kylo Nocom: Last week I actually missed out on homecoming to go to a very good friend of mine’s debut! Looks like I’ll sit this one out, too; “Homecoming Queen?” (stylized in lowercase for God knows why) has such little dynamic that it’d be too turgid to even soundtrack a little slideshow.
[3]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: The problem with “Homecoming Queen?” is that it isn’t maudlin enough. A song with this conceit and sonic palette needs some sort of climax, a place for the character study to come into focus and really hit you. I was ready for it– the details about mom and dad, the entreaties to the titular homecoming queen — but then the song just ends! There’s not even a bridge, just an overly long second pre-chorus! There’s no resolution at all, and in the end it leaves “Homecoming Queen?” feeling all too timid in its high school melodrama.
[3]

Vikram Joseph: This is basically an extremely sentimental rendering of the “popular girl who’s actually – no, honestly! — got a troubled home life and deep-seated insecurities” subplot of every teen-oriented noughties TV show, but it’s so wholesome and twinkly that it’s hard to dislike.
[5]

Edward Okulicz: The opening guitar doesn’t bode well, reminding me of Jewel’s grievous “You Were Meant for Me.” And it doesn’t really get a lot better from there, Ballerini giving a reading of the song like she’s boredly talking to a former self more than giving a hug to someone who needs it. Her second album was smart and wise and gorgeously crafted, so this sounds like a real step backward to me.
[4]

Thomas Inskeep: I like and respect the intent of this — “you don’t have to be perfect” basically sums it up — but wish it weren’t swathed in production that’s simultaneously thin and overblown. Ballerini sounds fine; with a voice as strong as hers, that’s never gonna be the problem. But with this, no one in her camp is doing her any favors.
[4]

Fantastic expectations, amazing revelations?

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[4.50]

Alfred Soto: Like “Clap,” it relies on sprung rhythms, guitar with smut just so, and breathy desperation, and I can’t explain why it doesn’t stick. 
[5]

Joshua Minsoo Kim: It’s sensory overload — even the quieter moments are tense — but it all congeals into an aggro-EDM gloop that leaves much to be desired. Like, what good is impressive vocal arrangement if the instrumentation amasses everything into a monolithic wall of sound. The flute melody is the only thing that has a chance of standing out, but these trap-influenced bits are getting terribly overdone in K-pop now. No surprise there, though — Korean pop stars and their songwriters/producers can’t adapt to newer trends in the post-trap rap world.
[4]

Kylo Nocom: Horrifically bloated with whispers, flutes, half-assed raps, and God knows what else. A lot of build-up just for one clumsy wet fart drop.
[2]

Alex Clifton: A watered-down version of “Blood Sweat and Tears” that has far less drama and danger than I need. I know Seventeen can hit the highs when they want to, but, sadly, “Fear” plays on boring boy-band autopilot.
[3]

Michael Hong: “Fear” is a single melody interwoven across the thirteen members, constantly jumping between members and consistently changing styles. Occasionally, it lands on something interesting, like S.Coup’s rap, but most of the time its content to allow members to effectively hold the melody across the chaotic background. Just as impressively as Seventeen use chaos, they use silence, allowing the track to surprise you on moments like when the background completely drops out and Jeonghan whispers “I love you oh and regret it again” or the second of silence before the final 30 seconds of excess. “Fear” works because of the strength of its hook, its strong sense of its melody, and those stunning moments across its densely packed space.
[7]

Katherine St Asaph: It’s almost time for best-of-the-2010s lists, all of which will probably omit a huge part, and to me a highlight, of the decade’s first half: the dark, pulsing electro of Born This Way, certain Kesha songs, etc. “Fear” rests atop the same sludge. There’s a bit too much atop it, and the sound is flagrantly dated if you care about that, but I don’t. 
[6]

What did everyone get up to on the weekend?

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[6.71]

Jessica Doyle: “Well, I ain’t Cinderella but who is/Call me what you want, if the shoe fits/I ain’t gonna say I never do this, ’cause truth is/ Lonely make a heart ruthless.” Damn if that doesn’t resonate, and McBryde does it one better by coming down on every line but the last, when she picks up her voice in defiance: this is where the narrator is, there’s no getting around or ameliorating it, there’s no apology for feeling it. The conviction of the grim self-loathing in this is what “Dancing with a Stranger” was supposedly shooting for, and chickened out of (except for Normani). The conviction is what a lot of songwriters and performers chicken out of.
[8]

Kayla Beardslee: McBryde has a pleasant voice (both literally and lyrically), one that carries a mix of conviction and wit. Her country twang sounds perfectly suited to this, not tacked on but still noticeable enough to add some extra color to the lyrics. The melodies and rhymes are playful, constantly rising, falling, and changing: see the variation in the quick “goes is/closes/roses” rhymes, and how they’re followed by the drawn out, unrhyming “just a room/without a view.” The male harmonies are a smart production choice — they make the track into a subtle duet, suggesting that McBryde and the guy are on the same page as they walk into the bedroom. And that unexpected guitar solo is just a simple joy.
[7]

Thomas Inskeep: This song is so well-written it almost makes me ache, and McBryde delivers the mid-tempo country groove just the way it needs to be delivered. “Just use me/Like I’m usin’ you”: ugh, this is brutally excellent.
[8]

Alfred Soto: I underrated Girl Going Nowhere, now one of 2018’s recurrents in my collection, and “One Night Standards” has proven equally resilient: title conceit I hadn’t heard before, confident vocal (“Ain’t nobody gonna hurt nobody”), and an arrangement on the rocking side of so-called Americana. 
[8]

Julian Axelrod: I’ll always appreciate a desperate hookup ballad, and I admire McBryde’s willingness to get aggressively unsentimental. I wish the title line hit a bit harder, but that deflation fits the song around it: Sometimes you’re hoping for a big release that never comes.
[6]

Michael Hong: Ashley McBryde’s vocal exasperation anchors the vividly detailed “One Night Standards,” which is complemented by its production, building an atmosphere that’s quietly apathetic, smothering moments of brightness as they appear. McBryde flips a one night stand into something more transactional for a strong hook, padded by the standard pounding drum and acoustic guitar. The opening electric guitar is quickly drowned out by that acoustic guitar but pops up for several moments brightening the track. The electric guitar builds until it reaches the bridge, but the guitar solo plays out almost half-heartedly and McBryde returns, keeping her cold detachment and smothering her feelings and anything else that may suggest some warmth.
[7]

Katherine St Asaph: Critics will overrate any song where a woman acknowledges pursuing sex. The title “One Night Standards” suggests a country “New Rules,” but the meaning’s more small-c conservative: “standards” in the songbook sense, the hookup equivalent of telling the DJ to just stick to “Brown-Eyed Girl” and “Sweet Caroline.” The music, in turn, has zero surprises: soft-focus verses, chorus with the melodic contours of “Accidental Racist,” blustery guitar solo doing exactly what it always does. And for supposedly bracing songwriting, so many details are off. The point of Cinderella is that she’s gone after midnight; lines are consistently swallowed and mis-stressed in a way that blunts the impact of lyrics like “you ain’t gotta lie to me,” which should land on “lie” and not “TO me.” More broadly, the writers can’t decide whether the song should be unapologetic or pained, so McBryde sings it both ways arbitrarily. But the writers do make one consistent decision: not to make it horny, not at any point to suggest actual desire. That’s one standard I wish they hadn’t stuck to.
[3]

Like our writers’ words? Well, you can find a lot of them in our salute to Rhythm Nation 1814 and Janet Jackson’s long career, published earlier this week. And once you’re done reading that, there’s more for you!

• For Bandcamp Daily, Joshua Minsoo Kim interviewed producer Loraine James about her new album For You and I, queer minority visibility in London, and making music out of one’s comfort zone.
• For Rock & Roll Globe, Thomas Inskeep revisits the top Hot Soul Singles for the week ending September 28, 1974, featuring everyone from Stevie Wonder to Chaka Khan to Parliament and Funkadelic.
• Inskeep also reviewed the top country & western hits of 1946 on his blog.
• For In Review Online, Ryo Miyauchi reviewed the new Bat for Lashes album, Lost Girls, which “feels like a rejuvenation.”
• And finally, for The Young Folks, Leonel Manzanares de la Rosa examined Loro, Paolo Sorrentino’s new film about the “diabolical burlesque” of longtime Italian strongman Silvio Berlusconi.

With that title, it almost feels like they’re robbing us…

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[5.33]

Vikram Joseph: The auditory equivalent of a couple strolling down the street, holding hands like the value of their property depends on it, and somehow taking up the entire pavement while also moving so slowly that evolution itself might overtake them (if it could only find a way past them).
[3]

Ian Mathers: Their voices mesh well, and the kind of sleepy feel (rather than anything more overtly horny) kind of works, but it does feel both somewhat gratuitously prolonged and somehow barely there. 
[6]

Juan F. Carruyo: An extremely sparse backing track with stop-start, reverb-drenched e-drums and rubbery bass; just enough for Alicia and Miguel to drop intertwining harmonies atop it, creating a very pleasant atmosphere. There’s not much going on lyrically besides the main refrain, so take it as a raga perhaps. Four minutes designed for zoning out. 
[6]

Joshua Minsoo Kim: Tricks you into thinking its lyrics and vocals are evocative when it’s really just the mixing that’s keeping you engaged. It slowly loses its magic as the song’s repetitive nature becomes indicative of its dearth of ideas. And that brief moment of overt vocal processing? Terribly jarring — unsexy, even.
[4]

Tobi Tella: For such an exponent of the genre, Alicia has never really been an expert at slow jams. Her best songs to me have always tended to be the dramatic and theatrical ballads of longing, but this proves she’s still got it and can definitely do smooth. Miguel doesn’t add much, but he keeps the vibe going with minimum interruptions, which is really all I could ask for.
[7]

Alfred Soto: Incapable of vocalizing without installing neon lights around herself, Alicia Keys is at her warmest when she tones it down. Miguel and support from Raphael Saadiq’s guitar increase the centigrade on an average tune.
[6]

Not quite ascending…

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[5.57]

Alfred Soto: Mumbling from zero to sixty suits her as much as the strings.
[4]

Juan F. Carruyo: Fragmented, long and hallucinatory. Violin drones surround her voice, then the chorus haphazardly hits and it rises above all the tension that’s been building up for its lengthy run-time, but I’m not sure whether it’s a musical gut-punch or celebratory. That’s probably the point. 
[5]

Katherine St Asaph: I’m not sure the rises and falls of dynamics are quite right — they’re a little unbalanced, particularly in the beginning, which peaks fast — but it does make it that much more unexpected when at the end the register shifts from Zola Jesus 10 to 11: alto roars, strings like horrible geese, and torrents of sound that, while not really my preferred sort of torrent, sure have an impact.
[6]

Ian Mathers: I’m not sure what I was expecting (although this song makes me suspect either Olsen has switched things up recently or the descriptions I’d read didn’t do her justice), but it definitely wasn’t something this starkly dramatic, let alone a song that brings to mind anyone from late Roy Orbison to early (the) Verve. Going to need to hear the album now.
[8]

Tim de Reuse: For such an expensive-sounding production it shows an impressive level of restraint! Over a thumping, unsyncopated drumbeat, strings slide and chords half-resolve; a heavenly earworm, pulled through five full minutes of cloud-surfing tension. The Mitskian finale, while appropriate and well-handled, turns out to be the least interesting part.
[8]

Joshua Minsoo Kim: A Brill Building march towards Hell. It bears the romantic longing of girl group songs of old, and then pulverizes it — gradually at first, and then all at once. Was it all just an irrational fantasy? It’s hard to say, mostly because this song is way too fucking long for me to care.
[5]

Vikram Joseph: There are one or two moments of unexpected intimacy buried in “Lark”, but it’s such an exhausting slog across six and a half minutes and more showy crescendos than I’d care to count that by the time you get to the end it’s hard to remember what they were. Quiet-loud dynamics are fine, but the loud parts don’t provide any sort of release, and Olsen’s undoubtedly powerful voice rapidly becomes enervating as she belts out three-note melodies with absolutely no dynamic subtlety. The bombastic drums and seething orchestral flourishes demand attention, but only in the sense that a crying toddler does. You suspect that the verse where Olsen sings, “Baby, I was there in an hour / I was there, and you put it all on me” is the heart of the song, but “Lark” trades that heart in for a blustery, overlong arrangement that is, unfortunately, really tiresome.
[3]

We’re hungry apparently…

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[5.14]

Kylo Nocom: Somehow so tasteful it comes out flavorless. Her voice is limited enough where the verses feel like an afterthought; the minimal hooks and outro are savory yet not enough to justify the slightness.
[4]

Iain Mew: Love comes quickly; so do chewy drops that melt away into nothing even quicker. 
[5]

Leonel Manzanares de la Rosa: It seems that house-infused electro disco is Bích Phương’s only trick at this point, but that feathery, breezy vocal delivery sells it every time, complete with a quiet earworm of a hook. The videogame sounds only enhance the ride. 
[6]

Jessica Doyle: I absolutely loved this on first listen; there will be more listens, but I’m not as enchanted the second and third go-rounds. The synth background, with the occasional touch of string or flute, is very much up my alley, but it’s content to stay put, and Bích Phương sounds a bit too relaxed for either her message or the music, so we end up not really getting anywhere. But this is a very, very pretty place to be stuck in.
[6]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: We’re so deep into the throes of disco pop revival that the only things that struck me as consciously retro here are the house piano and the spoken bridge, which vaguely hints at new politics of sexual freedom in comparison to more hemmed in old days. Everything else is smooth and charming without leaving much of a particular mark– Bích Phương is a compelling vocalist and the track could fit on dancefloors the world over, but there’s just not much there beyond winks and flirtations.
[6]

Katherine St Asaph: The 2010s have given us such a surfeit of evocative, wistful, neon-to-the-nerves disco that there’s no need to listen to diluted takes on the sound. Every part — arrangement, vocal — seems half there. I have no idea what’s up with the Super Mario coin sounds; maybe the producer, noticing a thin arrangement, attempted to fix it with gimmicks?
[4]

Michael Hong: Club music is often one of two things, either something with a commercial-pop edge going for massive catharsis like you might see on a “Top 100 Club Beats” playlist or something that never aims for any release, there’s no reward and you have to just enjoy it for whatever it is in that moment. Bích Phương’s vocals are a vision of elegance over top those club beats, but by attempting to split the difference between these two modes of club music, she never quite meets either option. The chorus heads towards something grand, but as that post-chorus drop sweeps in, the synths are twisted into muted thumps and it’s hard to find either catharsis in the drop or stay lost in the elegance of her verses.
[5]

We know who you are, Meghan, but we’re not…

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[2.50]

Katie Gill: Say what you will about obnoxious “Me Too” era Meghan Trainor, but at least that was memorable. This song is completely indistinguishable from every other EDM song featuring a possibly uncredited female vocalist getting radio-play at the moment. Aside from that, I honestly can’t help but wonder if this is a step down for Trainor. Surely’s she’s got Marshmello levels of EDM collab clout by now!
[4]

Ian Mathers: In which two middling tastes taste, uh, honestly, pretty middling together.
[4]

Alfred Soto: What on earth is she doing at the mike? Goo goo doll affectation, Ariana Grande swoops, strangled noises that sound like hiccups — she’ll try anything, damn her. The steamroller beat does no one any favors.
[2]

Katherine St Asaph: Given that Meghan Trainor’s last EP underperformed, despite a hyperventilating press release about “smashing bae’s junk to smithereens“, and that her biggest success since has been on this peppily, Zeddily anonymous EDM track where she’s barely identifiable as herself, I’d guess Trainor is trying to settle down or at least hunker down for a bit, singing something that doesn’t highlight her brand. But she just released a solo single that’s literally about her special and unique genetics, the nature-vs-nurture counterpart to Britney’s “Work,” so that theory’s out. And while “Genetics” is very much more embarrassing than this, it is also more interesting.
[4]

Andy Hutchins: One of the advantages of being one of the scores of largely anonymous dudebro DJducers has to be tapping relative no-names to collaborate with if their skills, lyrical or laryngeal, are up to par: Thus did the Chainsmokers not just wring their best song but its title from one of their collaborators. So of course a dude whose name isn’t even the best cascade-derived one in dance-pop would saddle Meghan Trainor, no one but Meghan Trainor’s idea of a powerhouse vocalist, with lyrics that she wouldn’t stoop to writing, and set it all to the sort of synth assault that you endure in spin class while waiting for better tunes. I can’t believe I honestly think that Trainor deserves better, but…
[1]

Juan F. Carruyo: I find her timbre off-putting and it seems that she scrambled this track scrounging for producers on Fiverr. 
[0]

Dierks Living, the offshoot magazine of Southern Living…

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[5.50]

Josh Love: It’s nice to check in on ol’ Dierks and see he finally got a decent haircut, he’s stacking that Five-Hour Energy endorsement money, and he’s admirably aged into something far less embarrassing than most of his peers. The stop-and-smell-the-roses message of “Living” is extremely saccharine, but the song makes some interesting structural and syntactical choices that Dierks manages to sell quite convincingly (the way he hits the end of a line like “and it killed me” with a little extra intensity or the nice alliteration and assonance of “Some days you’re just breathin’ / Just tryin’ to break even”).
[6]

Alfred Soto: Dierks Bentley albums tend to be slow burners, quietly releasing singles often more than a year after their release. 2018’s The Mountain was his most assured, but listeners would hardly know it from the conservative choices for singles. This valentine to life depends on Bentley’s restraint if not humility, from which the guitars take their cues. I hear touching, others sappy. 
[6]

Katie Gill: It really says something that Dierks Bentley’s “live your life and enjoy the moment” songs sound exactly like his “girl you’re pretty” songs, which sound exactly like his “look at me, I’m on a beach!” songs. Now that we’ve had 10+ years of this sound, it’s starting to wear thin.
[4]

Michael Hong: Dierks Bentley said he was aiming for something that felt “authentically personal” when writing “Living.” Lyrically, nothing about it stands out as “authentically personal,” but Bentley’s relaxed drawl allows him to get away with a couple of clunky lines and generic platitudes. Similarly, the instrumental is nothing new, and while a handful of guitar lines feel vibrant, they fold into the pleasant atmosphere. But while “Living” may not push boundaries, Bentley sounds genuinely grateful, giving “Living” enough meaning to ignore most of its flaws.
[6]

Ian Mathers: See, I am not totally immune to the charms of bro country, it just takes a bit of existentialism in there (I guess?). It doesn’t hurt at all that “sometimes your heart’s poundin’ out of your chest, sometimes it’s just beatin’” is pretty relatable whether or not you’re currently dead inside.
[7]

Juan F. Carruyo: The soft jangle and the programmed beats make no difference: This is pop with a twang. “Living” carries little traction, with vaguely evocative lyrics (and the mandatory whiskey reference to keep country cred) and Bon Jovi-lite guitar crunch in the chorus. Some times you’re just average, dear Dierks. 
[4]

Checking in with the Internet-anointed “sad prince of Gen Z softboy pop,” which goes about how you’d expect…

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[3.75]

Katherine St Asaph: Here we see a little-known variation on the Ruy Lopez opening: the Fuckboy Lopez, derived from the Tween’s Gambit, emphasis on “twee.”
[2]

Kylo Nocom: Conan Gray is the idol of zoomers too sensitive to bother with Billie Eilish and too aesthetically conscious to look up to somebody like Shawn Mendes; one look at his Twitter page is enough to understand that he’s gotten this softboy image down to a T, flocks of accounts replying to him and engaging with every heartbroken lowercase tweet he makes. “Checkmate” would be a nasty vengeance fantasy in anybody else’s hands, but Conan’s writing is too blissfully immature to be more concerning than a lame finsta rant. I’d imagine a blend of fellow YouTuber Tessa Violet’s sound FX-ridden “Crush” with millennial whoop indie rock choruses would sound horrible to anybody over the age of 20; luckily, I’m still in high school, so I’ve got a few more years left before I have to apologize to people for liking this stuff and being the kind of emotionally messy teen that Conan Gray is writing for. Through all the whining and stupid metaphors, he latches onto a certain adolescent anger that comes out with “no one’s ever gonna love you anyways.” Yes, he sounds like a terrible boyfriend. Yes, he’s actually 20, so here’s to hoping he actually starts growing up sometime soon. Yes, I’m going to regret this eventually. But for now, this hits a weak spot in me that I’m embarrassed to admit resonates way more than should be healthy. Boys are the worst.
[8]

Hannah Jocelyn: The lyrics are horrific — “holding a loaded gun” is a standard metaphor rendered worryingly literal when other antics include setting fire to someone’s lawn and maxing out their credit card. “Cry me a river ’til you drown in a lake” sounds like she’s going to disappear under Mysterious Circumstances. The production is fascinating, bouncing between Blackbear bro-pop and mid-2000s pop-punk before resolving like a One Direction song. There’s an interesting song somewhere in here, and Daniel Nigro’s other productions have been uniformly great, but this is a complete mess. (A point for those Pedestrian Verse harmonies in the final section, though.)
[5]

Juan F. Carruyo: A somewhat ungainly mix of electronic pulses that collapses on a pop-punk chorus. And I don’t know about the rest of my peers, but after three straight listenings, I had to turn it off because I felt threatened. Hope he tries to make it as an actor instead. 
[2]

Ian Mathers: “Now I’m gonna ruin your life” hahaha get it? It’s a totally healthy and proportionate response to heartbreak! It’s never gone terribly wrong in the real world, and certainly nobody who talks like this has ever been someone who’s sinned more than they’ve been sinned against who still decides to harass, abuse, and torment whoever’s unlucky enough to fall in with them. Right, right, “I’m holding a loaded gun / Yeah, baby, you should really run” is metaphorical, which makes it art, it can’t possibly have any ramifications in that aforementioned real world. From “you think you’re funny, right?” to “no-one’s ever gonna love you anyways” this totally doesn’t sound like random abusive boyfriend #618, and that kind of abuse isn’t a plague upon too many people. Nah, this here, this is just japes and tomfoolery.
[0]

Will Adams: This hybrid of bloopy, Tove Styrke-esque material and power-punk fuzz is as appealing as the lyrics are mean-spirited. The conflation of post-breakup revenge plots ranging from “Hit ‘Em Up Style” shenanigans to attempted murder is worrisome, and the prospect of all this being dismissed by the post-post-post-irony-irony-irony defense makes the great instrumental feel all the more wasted.
[5]

Alex Clifton: This is a song that could only be written by someone who is 20 years old, who still feels like every glance with a love interest is a life-or-death situation. The concept could have worked in other circumstances, but mediocre lyrics kill the execution (“I saw you kissing someone else’s tongue” is Ed Sheeran levels of bad and also reads like he garnered inspiration from this infamous video). I also have literally no reason to care about Gray in this song; he’s not overly sympathetic nor can he channel catharsis like Icona Pop, so much like watching an actual game of chess I am extremely bored.
[3]

Joshua Lu: I think I’d enjoy this spunky spin on the pop-punk teenage angst anthem if A) the line “I saw you kissin’ someone else’s tongue” wasn’t too obviously written by someone who hasn’t kissed anyone before, B) the lyrics about murdering his lover didn’t bring to mind real-life atrocities that have occurred, and C) I were maybe six years younger.
[5]