Their highest-scoring solo single to date — truly, a “Diamonds” in the rough.

[Video][Website]
[6.00]

Wayne Weizhen Zhang: Moderation suits Sam Smith well: the leisurely but luxurious hooks in “Diamonds” are couture-fitted for their vocal tenor, and ready to set every dancefloor ablaze. 
[7]

Alex Clifton: Oh thank god, Sam has proved they can do better music than the weird gay Olympic duet they did with Demi a few months ago. I would like a short musical set in a divorce court for this song. It’s got energy and movement that the aforementioned song lacks, and also tackles the intensity of having one’s heart broken much better. I hope Smith’s heart heals soon — breakups are never fun — but I’m also proud that they were able to wrench a banger out of their sadness.
[7]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: Sam Smith has made boring music for so long that I forgot what I originally liked about them. On “Diamonds” they don’t completely recapture the off-kilter joy of their early features, but instead they slot in as a sort of Jessie Ware-like dancefloor presence, confident and cool over a beat that matches their energy. It’s not the most best dance pop track of the year, but it’s anything but boring.
[7]

William John: Momentum was high leading into Sam Smith’s third album campaign. The likes of “Promises“, “Dancing With A Stranger” and “How Do You Sleep?” were ineludible on radio; each exhibited a newly-found confidence, and were more daring and interesting than anything Smith had released since perhaps the early track “Safe With Me“. Then came the pandemic, and the unfortunate timing of a staid ballad with a deathly metaphor; the less said about the subsequent Demi Lovato duet, the better, and when things reached the point of Coldplay covers, it suddenly felt like everything of promise had been squandered. “Diamonds” is an unexpected course correction, and seems to be climbing the charts, at least in the UK; hopefully its commercial success encourages Smith and their team toward the view that a kick drum is not to be feared, though one wonders whether it would’ve reached an even larger audience had it not appeared so late in the piece.
[7]

Scott Mildenhall: Minted popstars barracking voiceless exes over alleged materialism is always shaky ground, but Sam Smith has often seemed like someone who’d be tone-deaf to its apparent power imbalance. “I Will Survive” this is not, but the marriage of familiar monochrome balladry and a moody bassline is solid; further, welcome evidence that “Can’t Feel My Face” is one of the most influential songs of the past few years.
[7]

Alfred Soto: I wish they’d said “The special things I ball” rather than “bought” in the first verse — they needs less pristine wishes rattling around their head more than fresher beats.
[4]

Thomas Inskeep: Smith sings with their usual histrionics, the song starts slow and then explodes into aggressively average dance-pop on its chorus (and back again), and it’s all forgotten five minutes later.
[3]

A warm welcome to the band behind the world’s best-selling album of 2019. Well, lukewarm…

[Video][Website]
[4.43]

Alex Clifton: My first thought was “oh my god, a 90s boyband song!” Then I looked up ARASHI and realized they’ve been around since 1999, so that makes perfect sense. There are some more modern flourishes in here (obvious autotune, for example), but it’s really nice to hear something that sounds vintage. I feel like a boyband connoisseur as I get older and listen to more music, and I can tell when I hear a good group — this is one.
[7]

Thomas Inskeep: The J-pop stars called on Bruno Mars to write and produce their first English-language single (with D’Mile), and it sounds like, well, watered-down Bruno Mars. This mid-tempo ballad is saccharine sweet to a fault, and utterly average. (Much like, unfortunately, ARASHI’s vocals.)
[4]

Wayne Weizhen Zhang: Huh, it turns out that “Bruno Mars co-writes a J-pop boyband song” sounds exactly how you think it would.  
[4]

Jessica Doyle: The video doesn’t do much to showcase or distinguish the members, which is fair; if you’re intrigued there’s plenty of background information to find. (A lot of it, sadly, got pulled from LiveJournal and is probably unrecoverable, but here’s an overview that survived.) More of the problem is that the music doesn’t do much to showcase or distinguish anything; it just drifts. I’m not sure if I would’ve liked the song more had it had a third-act key change, but I would have appreciated its effort more.
[4]

Tobi Tella: This is straight up “she took off her glasses and we found out she was beautiful the whole time!” music. It takes a certain amount of bravery to release something this Troy Bolton-esque, but it’s hard to support something so limp.
[2]

Alfred Soto: The synths, soft and wet, dampen ARASHI’s vocals, but it’s probable Bruno Mars couldn’t have enlivened this product. For himself he’s a sharper writer. 
[4]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: Stately and boringly romantic in the way that pop acts tend to get after two decades in the fray — this could be some British rockers taking a Diane Warren assist circa 1986-89, or an alt-leaning pop star bringing in Jack Antonoff circa 2017-forever. Instead it’s a Japanese boyband working with Bruno Mars in 2020, which is at least a novel combination. And to ARASHI’s credit, Mars makes them sound great, lush harmonies running up against a chugging synth-pop backing that is so slick it has no distinguishing characteristics. It’s a best case scenario for late period boyband material, but it’s still not all that interesting.
[6]

Steady, watch her navigate, ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!

[Video][Website]
[6.33]

Thomas Inskeep: It’s not Megan’s best single of the year — heaven knows she has plenty to choose from — but it’s strong nonetheless, with a weird Buddah Bless beat anchoring verses in which she and Thug get braggy wit’ it. Inspirational verse: “People say I’m way too full of myself/You’re right, and I ain’t even made it to dessert.”
[7]

Alfred Soto: A less than inspired pairing produces a performance of force, clarity, and intelligence. With the help of Buddah Bless’ rattling pot lid of a rhythm track, Megan and Young Thug fling smut at each other: Marvin and Tammi for the TikTok generation. Conclusion: “Any bitch you fuckin’ with, you need to dead it/’Fore I come through and shit get hectic.”
[8]

Jonathan Bradley: Yes, it has been a while since pop delivered a beat that feels like a giant robot stomping on your face. This calls back at least to Brandy’s “What About Us.”
[8]

Edward Okulicz: The beat is more punishing than pleasurable, but it turns out Megan has about twenty new ways to talk about her prowess at sex, and a very acceptable proportion of these are witty or shocking enough for rewinding and replaying. Half onslaught of freaky metallic tentacles bashing your head, half IMAX tour of Megan’s vagina and 100% teachable moment — be it on the beat or in bed, you might not ever have it better. My one regret is that this didn’t come out, like two TikTok cycles later and interpolate something from that other song called “Don’t Stop.”
[8]

Juana Giaimo: This is supposed to be a song about sexual pleasure but it doesn’t feel so. There is something quite industrial about it in the metallic noises in the chorus, in the repetitive basslines and in their unexpressive rapping. Also, I really didn’t need to see the cheshire cat spanking Megan Thee Stallion.
[4]

Andy Hutchins: Imperial period Meg is such a force of nature that she can warp almost anything around her, so Thugger — once the most avant-garde rapper working, I swear — sounding almost normal and even boring in comparison to her tongue-out brio is really not that surprising. Buddah Bless following up the unholy TikTok and Fortnite triangulation “Out West” with an anthem built for the first strip club on Saturn? Astonishing.
[7]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: Megan is great, as always — her last verse is one of the year’s best. Young Thug does better here than on certain other recent features (but not as well as his best from the past few weeks) And yet “Don’t Stop” doesn’t feel as exciting as it could — the industrial qualities of the beat don’t go anywhere, and the generic trap tones that get added on top of the faux-SOPHIE blasts don’t move the needle either. Meg works best over smooth beats, soul or dance tracks where she can fully exert her charisma. Here, her skill just feels like more noise.
[6]

Jackie Powell: Buddah Bless did not “bless” any beat with his production. He might have tried to emulate some sort of cat scratching sound to accompany Megan Thee Stallion’s hook and music video imagery, but I don’t understand why what was designed to be “a bedroom fun song” is a track that sounds like it was produced in a distorted version of Morse Code. Megan the Stallion tries to introduce the single with a sonic motif similar to what became iconic on “Savage,” but leave that to J. White Did It, please. Buddah Bless’ production doesn’t lend itself to be danceable or even listenable on “Don’t Stop.”
[3]

Katherine St Asaph: Feels like the beat was softened, made 50 times as quiet as the industrial clanging would normally be, so Megan could be loud up front. Which is how it should be, usually, but I suspect both performer and track would be better matched with others.
[6]

The Singles Jukebox is home to a talented roster of writers from around the globe with passionate, critical voices dedicated to the spectrum of modern music. While this has been a highly unusual year, we remain a collective with a friendly community of writers interested in exploring diverse genres and unfamiliar sounds.

The site is seeking applications from writers with bold ideas and a willingness to tackle new subjects. All are welcome to apply, including those who have previously expressed interest in writing for the website. We are particularly interested in writers whose voices are under-represented in music criticism and strongly encourage women and people of color to apply. Many of our writers have honed their voices at TSJ and have gone on to write professionally elsewhere.

(more…)

I was your sweetest downfall…

[Video][Website]
[4.75]

Thomas Inskeep: Based on “You Broke Me First,” Tate McRae is the Regina to Billie Eilish’s Madonna.
[2]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: Amazing! This Canadian Teenager Averaged Out Every Breakup Song Of The Last Decade! You WON’T Believe What It Sounds Like!
[4]

Wayne Weizhen Zhang: Sounds like the computer generated approximation of Billie Eilish covering a Camila Cabello song. The dubious premise aside, the end result avoids something truly bad — but why wouldn’t we just listen to the two original artists?  
[4]

William John: With a voice eerily similar to that of Camila Cabello, Tate McRae mines an aesthetic not altogether dissimilar to that of Billie Eilish when in one of her more morose modes. Five or so years ago it might’ve seemed a revelatory single, but it walks a path too well trodden in 2020 to provoke any genuine excitement.
[5]

Will Adams: Mileage can vary on gloomy Spoti-pop, but Tate McRae’s numbed sharpness elevates “You Broke Me First” to the Sofi de la Torre tier. She’s in need of a better arrangement, though; once the vocal drops out, we’re left with piano plod that more evokes the forced drama of made-for-TV Taylor Swift remixes.
[5]

Juana Giaimo: I try not to compare artists, especially when they are female, but “You Broke Me First” truly reminds me of a Taylor Swift song that combines the resentful lyrics of her first records with the electronic production of reputation, especially in that combination of dark synths and Auto-Tuned backing vocals (even the official video has the lyrics written in handwriting, which seems a very Taylor Swift thing to do). Her voice might have more personality if she abandoned the Billie Eilish trend of singing in a languid quiet way. Even though I can see that there is depth to this song, it’s really hard for me hear her in it because of all of these resemblances.
[5]

Edward Okulicz: Looking at this from one perspective, yes, this sounds a lot like Billie Eilish, and Amy Shark, and so on. But having heard this song a lot lately, I’ve been thinking that in the past it wouldn’t have been the default to say that two rock bands with dudes singing were exactly the same, or two rap songs, or two country songs, and to do so is as lazy and reductive criticism as dismissing this song is. “You Broke Me First,” as a mope/muse (mupe?), is an exemplar of a genre that’s got its own legs now. So you know what it sounds like, but having heard it a lot, I’ve come to realise that both lyrically and melodically, it hits emotional pressure points like a sniper. It is a more than competent welding of a memorable title to a strong tune and a decent atmosphere. I like it plenty, in fact.
[8]

Oliver Maier: The post-Billie boom continues apace, here mixed with a litheness and melodic sensibility that remind me of Kehlani. Billie has more presence though, and Kehlani is scarcely this dour. Tate, submerged in moody synth bass, struggles to make an impression.
[5]

Big beats, big names, big hats…

[Video][Website]
[5.50]

Juana Giaimo: I used to really like Anitta, but ever since she started trying to become a worldwide popstar, I think she sacrificed too much of her persona. In “Me Gusta” the delicacy and sensuality of her voice has been erased and it feels she could be replaced by anyone. The verses are in Spanish and English, and none of those languages are her native one, but they are the languages that have commercial success now. “Me Gusta” also offers rather superficial LGBT content, with lyrics that seem more like a draft, full of “ya” and “yeah,” and even the drop is quite boring. It has the typical warm vibes (Latin American mainstream artists still have a hard time detaching from that), with what seem real guitars and drums combined with some electronic production. Oh, and then Cardi B and Myke Towers appear almost as if they were forced into the song; there is no dynamic between the three of them.
[4]

Alfred Soto: A triumph of self-declared polymorphous perversion, “Me Gusta” can’t shake its shackling to a pinched reggaeton riff and a bland chorus, both of which are the aural equivalents of a boy reuniting with an abandoned girlfriend in a putatively queer film.
[5]

Tobi Tella: A more subtle and well-done “casual lesbianism” song than Cardi’s previous attempt at it. Her rapid language switching bars are the only urgent thing here: Anitta is playful but subdued, Myke Towers could’ve been left at home.
[5]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: For a song so stuffed with hooks, from the rhythm guitars and percussion breaks to the charisma possessed by two-thirds of the song’s performers, “Me Gusta” is a strangely anonymous affair. Maybe Cardi has already done enough features and songs playing along similar lines. Maybe Anitta cedes too much of the song to her guests, not giving her enough time to set her tone before Cardi washes over the track. Maybe Myke Towers does nothing at all. Regardless of who gets the blame, “Me Gusta” mostly sounds like wasted potential.
[5]

Thomas Inskeep: On “Me Gusta,” Anitta makes baile funk pop — and makes it pop. She flips between English and Spanish, as does guest Cardi B (I love when Cardi raps en español, pulling out another weapon in her ample arsenal), and the two sound great together; the pairing, on record, makes total sense. Puerto Rican rapper Myke Towers adds a solid third verse, both Cardi and Towers add vocal ad-libs, and really, this should by all rights sound like global pop-by-committee — I mean, Ryan Tedder co-produced it — but it’s utterly seamless. “Me Gusta” works, and is an absolute joy. This is precisely the kind of pop record we need at this exact moment in 2020.
[8]

Jessica Doyle: One of our longstanding complaints about Anitta is when she goes low and sounds a bit too detached, which thankfully is not a problem here, and I like the contrast between smooth Myke Towers and Cardi, who tackles the Spanish as if each word has a texture and a taste. The beat is maybe a bit too clean? I fear I’m not going to remember this for long, but it’s a nice change of pace for now, not least given the video’s remarkable ability to convince its watchers for three minutes that COVID-19 doesn’t exist.
[6]

Here’s 7 Things You Need To Read Before Purchasing a Franchise (Number 6 Will Shock You).

[Video][Website]
[6.00]

Wayne Weizhen Zhang: First there was the Rosalía and Lil Baby remix to “Highest in the Room,” then there was that Kid Cudi “THE SCOTTS” nonsense, and now with this Young Thug & M.I.A. collaboration, and my resistance to Travis Scott has finally crumbled. FRANCHISE is fiery and chaotic, in the best sense of both words. 
[7]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: Travis Scott works best as the boring connective tissue between moderately outre component pieces– his catatonic affect shines when it’s undergirding the haunted house energies at work on “Sicko Mode” or “Maria I’m Drunk.” But that skillset makes Scott inherently a system player, a normie frontman only as good as the contributions of the weirdos around him. When he’s got Stevie Wonder and Kid Cudi providing his set dressing it’s great; when it’s a tired Young Thug and a lost M.I.A, it’s painful. The best part of this Travis Scott song is a verse by Travis Scott, and the man is simply not interesting enough for it to be sustainable.
[4]

Thomas Inskeep: Travis Scott makes music to sell merch; there’s no compelling artistic impulse here, none. He even manages to shave the interesting edges off of Thug on this song, and I have no clue what M.I.A. is doing here, other than cashing what I hope was a healthy check. This is nothing more than a commercial for Travis Scott, and I’m not buying.
[2]

Juana Giaimo: Even when I listened to this song several times, I’m still pleasantly surprised every time Young Thug and M.I.A. casually break in — they don’t need an introduction, they just appear out of nowhere and take the song somewhere else. The deep dark track combines really nicely with the slow and drowsy flow that the three of them use. 
[7]

Edward Okulicz: Sounds as overblown and distorted and shitty-but-great on good speakers as my crappiest earbuds, so that’s a deliberate stylistic choice. Young Thug and M.I.A. are but mere accessories, in the fashion and crime senses of the word, popping in and out, ignorable if you feel like it (neither contributes a lot). “FRANCHISE” as versatile as a white tee; perhaps not made for the club precisely, but definitely ideal for a lockdown-breaking cruise through the streets.
[7]

Crystal Leww: “FRANCHISE” has the crawl and lurch of the Dem Franchize Boyz that the song pays tribute to but because it’s a Travis single, feels a lot more icy and sinister than the sunny bounce of 00s crunk. The M.I.A. verse is so “bad” that it makes the rap fanboys furious that she “ruined” a perfectly “good” Travis Scott and Young Thug collaboration and that makes “FRANCHISE,” in fact, “incredible.” DFB would have wanted rap to stay fun anyway. 
[8]

Alfred Soto: This Miamian’s a sucker for these blown-woofer beats, and Travis Scott and especially M.I.A. sound impressive boasting over them. Young Thug punches his verses like a clock.
[7]

• Hannah Jocelyn has launched a Substack called The Only Times I’ve Ever Known: read the most recent issue, a look back at producer Emile Haynie’s awkwardly lavish breakup album, here.
• Alfred Soto reviewed Tears For Fears’ The Seeds of Love (Super Deluxe Edition) for Pitchfork.
• Hannah Jocelyn reviewed Matt Berninger’s new solo album Serpentine Prison for Pitchfork.
• Jackie Powell profiled Alysha Clark, a Black Jewish WNBA player who recently won her second championship with the Seattle Storm, for Alma.
• Kayla Beardslee published the third installment in her series Songs I Want to Write About.
• Powell, for The Next, also wrote about the New York Liberty’s off-season and the team’s strategies for rebuilding.

I heard his next single is in fact called “Please Take Me Seriously.”

[Video][Website]
[4.11]

Juana Giaimo: “Wonder” seems to scream “Please, take me seriously,” with lyrics that are about finding it difficult to express himself, toxic masculinity, the fear of losing friends, what it’s like to be loved and also how the world is a hard place to live in (yes, all that in one song). For some reason, he thought he wasn’t being melodramatic enough so he also added a backing choir. 
[4]

Scott Mildenhall: Almost wonderful, but that bit too incohesive for a smooth ascent to the heights it desires. The lyrics are as on-the-nose as could be expected, but that doesn’t come at the cost of craft: the “hands”/”man” couplet shows that the broadest of brushes can still stroke with elegance. Bold, quasi-spiritual ballads can be fun, and so can the kilter-shake of uncomplicated pop. “Wonder” grapples for both, and for the most part they’re in hand.
[7]

Michael Hong: The problem is that we’ve sat through enough horny collaborations, tabloid drama, and even an album titled Romance, that second-guessing Shawn Mendes and Camila Cabello’s relationship isn’t really possible. The chorus swallows everything up and every other question is drowned out by its main one. Sure, most of those were generic in their relatability, while others are built on false premises, but at least they were worth trying to answer.
[3]

Thomas Inskeep: He used to be John Mayer for teenage girls: annoying, easy to ignore. But now he’s moved into bombastic Jim Steinman territory, but without good songs.
[1]

William John: I’m not sure arena rock suits Shawn Mendes best; I prefer “Lost In Japan” and its airy, Phoenix-like shuffle, or even something with the manic urgency of “There’s Nothing Holding Me Back.”  He’s bogged down by a drab chorus here, and his words seem like they’re plagiarised from any given 2012 Tumblr post, stylised in a typewriter font.
[4]

Tim de Reuse: You’re conditioned to feel less like a man when you cry into your hands, huh? A calculated, lukewarm sentiment, barely connected to the rest of the song, surrounded by self-congratulatory bombast. How obnoxious it is to celebrate the act of wonder in the abstract, especially when your canvas is another quiet-loud-quiet-loud Imagine Dragons situation — come back when you can string your delicate profundities into a coherent throughline.
[3]

Jackie Powell: Lyrically there’s a lot going on in “Wonder.” Is this a song where Shawn Mendes reflects on the life he’s created for himself, assessing its costs and convolutions, or is this a love letter to Camila Cabello? I guess it’s both, but the story arc is less fluid in it’s transition from theme one (the verses) to theme two (the choruses). He took a similar approach with “In My Blood,” the lead single of his previous self-titled record. But “Wonder” feels a little bit scattered and less connected. Even in the overwhelmingly cinematic music video treatment for this track where Mendes hops from a Harry Potter inspired train to the middle of a forest and then on top of a cliff adjacent to a geyser, this feels forced and disjointed. I understand what he’s going for here: another vulnerable stadium anthem power ballad that soars in a Coldplay or Kings of Leon-ish way. Teddy Geiger co-wrote a better song with Mendes that had the same exact goal. In his half of a decade career, Mendes has proved how he differs from his peers who began on the internet. But, I just don’t know if the composition and final product of “Wonder” advances his development. Do we learn anything new here besides a tiny bit more about his love for Cabello? It doesn’t show us evolution, but maybe his Netflix documentary will? But that too doesn’t seem as focused as it could be. Although, I’ll give Mendes and Scott Harris this: I appreciate the melody of the lyrics “right before I close my eyes/The only thing that’s on my mind/Been dreaming that you feel it too” is sung in thirds. It creates an apogee on the track, but I walk away still wondering if I’ve indeed heard this too.
[6]

Alfred Soto: With the conviction of a showbiz hoofer who knows about life through other songs, Shawn Mendes creaks like a worn floorboard from the effort of convincing listeners that crying makes him less a man.
[2]

Brad Shoup: In 2020, a soaring piano ballad the begins and ends with stirring choral arrangements gets out in under three minutes. That’s a mid-oughts Sufjan move. I half expected Kanye to wander in for eight bars of profundity, right before a Westward lurch: the drummer leans into it; a scream echoes from the Negative Zone. One or six more minutes would do the trick. 
[7]

Return to sender…

[Video][Website]
[5.57]

Edward Okulicz: Springsteen taking something private or introspective and making it sound huge is a feature, not a bug, and the more salient question rather than “is he good?” is “have you had enough of this already?”. Probably I have. But the plainness of “Letter to You” as a lyrical text interests me, because I hear something very old fashioned and courtly in the lyrics, almost like something from the ’50s, the melody kind of reminds me of something by Foreigner I can’t place, and then it’s given that perfect stadium-felling treatment replete with organ. All of these things should be anachronistic in 2020 — stadium rock, writing letters, corn, but they’re given meaning from the animation in Springsteen’s voice. I might have given this about a [5] in 2010 or 2030, but in 2020, I am slightly heartwarmed.
[7]

William John: About as much as can be asked of a Bruce Springsteen song in 2020; rollicking, familiar, and of comfort to my mother, as big a #BruceBud as you’re ever likely to encounter.
[6]

Alfred Soto: He doesn’t bluster, and he and his producers wisely mix his impeccable guitar front and center. Aware he will convert no one but playing as if he can, Bruce Springsteen still believes in the communicative power of private letters meant to be read through arena PA systems. For twenty years his dedication has come across palsied; here, the concision of his verse — suspicious of poetry when, after all, Charles Giordano’s there to offer some with his organ fills — acknowledges how well he can still put his weaknesses to work.
[7]

Thomas Inskeep: I love the way the E Street Band sounds here, proud and triumphant, but what’s with the way Springsteen is singing? On the choruses, he flirts with an almost operatic tone that is not flattering. As for the song itself, it’s just kinda there.
[5]

Brad Shoup: I don’t know anything about crowds of mongrel trees — Bruce, woof — but as someone who fills up one entire half of a birthday card every year, I get the sentiment. But I’m spewing my fears and doubts at her frequently enough to want to keep them out of print. Musically he’s going on that transcendent stroll, but I dunno if we really needed a solo recapitulating the verse melody twice! The whole deal was recorded live in one take, but it’s as crammed as anything he’s offered this century. Which I guess is a tribute to his crew, but let someone risk spilling something messy.
[5]

Joshua Minsoo Kim: I listened to this ten times in a row, and the straight-ahead nature of “Letter to You” is its definite downfall. The lyrics aren’t more potent in their directness, the music is all a bit too tidy, and the song overstays its welcome. Sometimes a message of gratitude is better when it doesn’t sound so rehearsed.
[4]

Tobi Tella: As a life-long New Jerseyan, maybe not the song my dad deserves, but definitely the one he wants.
[5]