Taking his reindeer to the Old Town Road…

[Video][Website]
[4.25]

Austin Nguyen: “Festive rap song” isn’t a phrase I thought would end up in my search history anytime soon, yet here we are with “St. Brick Intro” and “Ludacrismas” from Entertainment Weekly and Complex articles. “Holiday” doesn’t appear on either list for obvious reasons (i.e. publication dates), but it’s also not so much a song infused with the Christmas spirit as it is one with a wintry marketing plan. While “I got ho(e)s on ho(e)s” takes on the form of a double entendre in December,  Michael Jackson memes and vers flexes work all-year round as tweetable quotes you’ll probably delete in a month. If you took out the pseudo-sleigh-bell “hew” whispers and replaced “holiday” with “Saturday,” this would just be another gimmick-filled Lil Nas X song, TikTok and remix ready. At least this one has an expiry date.
[4]

Oliver Maier: There’s a puzzling asymmetry between Lil Nas’s mischievous online presence and the wooden, often downright dour quality of his music. This could probably be attributed to the unenviable task of having to make new songs after scoring one of the biggest hits of all time, even if “Old Town Road” showed early signs of the same issues. Either way, “Holiday” doesn’t come bearing many surprises. It’s catchy in a rudimentary sort of way, stocking-stuffed with winking jokes and buoyed by an inflatable Tay Keith beat, but nothing about it really convinces me that Lil Nas wants to be there. The visuals, in all of their camp absurdity, feel like more of a labour of love than the song does.
[5]

Alex Clifton: I appreciate that Lil Nas X gives approximately zero fucks and is willing to take risks with his music. It’s what made his career in the first place, and I like the fact that he takes whatever he wants from his favourite genres and mixes them to create his own brand. I’ll also admit that I’m confused as to why he’s released a song called “Holiday” that isn’t exactly about Christmas but has an entire video that positions him as Cyborg Santa — is this a level of irony I’m just not getting, or am I overthinking it? The song itself is decent, but doesn’t hit me quite as powerfully as “Old Town Road” did, in part because after a while it’s just about bragging about his success, which on one hand is deserved but on the other feels somewhat pre-emptive considering that this is only his third single post-hitting it big.
[4]

Crystal Leww: One of my favorite things about Lil Nas X’s EP last year was that it was very fun and very short, with each song clocking in at under three minutes — like the guy who shows up to the Christmas party for a couple of drinks, tells some truly funny jokes, then bounces to his next stop of the night. “Holiday” is still pretty short but not at all fun, not even in a mildly trainwreck kind of way. The beat is flat and never kicks it up and Lil Nas X delivers all his vocals in monotone. This is the guy who shows up to the Christmas party to talk about how it’s surprising that there hasn’t been any snow this year and to make one culturally out-of-date reference to Michael Jackson before taking off. 
[3]

Alfred Soto: Listening to this case study minutes after Simmy and Sun-El’s track proved instructive. The electro beats share DNA and no one will fuck with Nas X’s don’t-give-a-fuck-ness, which he confuses with listlessness.
[4]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: If Lil Nas X’s main contributions to the pop music landscape are making the beats for children’s music go much harder and allowing artists to make ridiculous music videos again, that will be enough.
[5]

Wayne Weizhen Zhang: Bless Lil Nas X for the way he obliterates the fourth wall in this delectable trifle of song. “Holiday” is littered with clever references to his own persona: from the not-so-subtle references to topping and bottoming, to the need-to-do-a-double-take Nicki Minaj Easter egg, to the brazen line, “I pulled a gimmick, I admit it, I got no remorse.” Lil Nas X doesn’t mince words when addressing his stardom: “Pop star, but the rappers still respect me.” Few artists are able to craft their own narratives so well and so directly — let alone doing it while bringing pop-trap-holiday music to the masses. 
[7]

Thomas Inskeep: I’m happy if he gets the line “I may bottom on the low, but I top shit” on top 40 radio, but, boy, this song is one big ball o’ nothin’. The beat is barely serviceable, and LNX has zero to say. (And what he says, he says in a monotone.) I assumed he’d never hit the highs of “Old Town Road” again, but I didn’t expect him to crash and burn this hard, this soon.
[2]

Best Music 2020?

[Video]
[7.89]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: Do you ever just miss being able to go dance with people? Do you ever miss dancing with people so much that you end up quoting extremely corny house music from 2006? God, do I have a song for you.
[9]

Kayla Beardslee: Simmy wrote this song thinking about the challenges she faced after leaving her hometown at a young age and having to find her own way forward: “For me, where I come from is where my peace of mind is… and even though I left young I can’t say it gets easier.” Sorry to pull a PR quote for this review, but when I read that explanation while listening to the song, I instantly thought of my own special place — it’s not connected to the transformative experiences of departure or perseverance like Simmy’s is, but it’s somewhere I only visit occasionally, and somewhere I return to (both physically and mentally) as a place of peace and refuge. If I had to translate that place into music, I could totally see the result ending up like the gentle swells, sunny piano chords, and delicate vocals of “Emakhaya” — the way it flows like water down a river — and I’m grateful that this song has reminded me of it.
[8]

Edward Okulicz: A thing of beauty, but not fragile beauty; Simmy produces indestructible, gleaming gemstones of pop. The sun of the southern hemisphere summer drips down, but her voice gives it an aqueous calm. It’s playful but soothing and just a masterpiece of composition and construction.
[9]

Thomas Inskeep: A lovely, smooth, keeps-getting-deeper house groove underpins a dreamy vocal from Simmy. Her singing sounds effortless, and “Emakhaya” draws you in with seemingly little work. I want a 20-minute extended remix of this, please. Anyone know Louie Vega’s number?
[9]

Alfred Soto: I keep waiting for any Sun-El project to trip. Instead, he and his collaborators find one fascinating variant on his perky electro-pop after another. With a placidity that achieves a state of grace, Simmy breathes life into each vowel as the track expands around her.
[8]

Wayne Weizhen Zhang: The only two times we’ve covered Simmy, she’s been the highest scoring artist of the year. And in the five times we’ve covered Sun-El Musician, he’s never not made the sidebar. It’s in that context that I find myself almost wanting to artificially deflate this score as to avoid the appearance of blind affirmation for those two artists, but I can’t: “Emakhaya” is yet another gem. The echoing, enveloping production dovetails perfectly with Simmy’s euphonious voice, and the result sounds like a nostalgic movie soundtrack, an intimate conversation with your best friend, and the hypnotic trance of house music all at the same time. 
[8]

Juana Giaimo: “World, Hold On” by Bob Sinclar immediately reminds me of fifteenth birthday parties where it was many times used as background music. “Emakhaya” has the same vibe. The contrast of the fast house beat and the calm, slow vocals is interesting, but I find it hard to engage with it, maybe because the production is too polished. Still, I can imagine it as background music at today’s fifteenth birthday parties.
[5]

Scott Mildenhall: With none of the dread of the compellingly ominous “World, Hold On”, “Emakhaya” doesn’t quite make Simmy Sinclar’s spiritual successor. If anything, it’s another rebuttal, with the inclusion of the isiZulu aphorism “ayikho indlovu esindwa umboko wayo” indicative of an ethos apparent across her work. Bob Sinclar, Steve Edwards, you: just breathe.
[8]

Will Adams: The downside, however microscopic, of Sun-El Musician’s consistent soundscapes is that it makes it near impossible to put a finger on why certain songs are less effective than others. It’s another truffle of gorgeous deep house, what more do I need? For “Emakhaya”, maybe it’s the length, which stretches the outro just past the breaking point. Maybe it’s the “World, Hold On” interpolation, which despite the warmth Simmy injects into Bob Sinclar’s anxious melody, jars on each listen. Maybe it’s just slight fatigue with the formula. But gorgeous it remains, and Simmy is ever dependable. There’s a reason we love her so much.
[7]

I guess she’ll have to settle for another place on our sidebar…

[Video][Website]
[7.29]

Nortey Dowuona: A soaring guitar welcomes in the the sharp, sliding bass, twisting additional slide guitars and hopping, spinning drums with the little grace notes from banjos as Miranda proudly stands within the mix, pushing it outwards to insert a slinking guitar shriek, then she opens it wide, expanding it until it has all overflowed to the very bottom, everyone watching and cheering and plucking fleas out of puppies. Miranda finishes off her guitar and nuzzles a little puppy too.
[7]

Thomas Inskeep: “Am I settling up/or settling down” is such a superb lyric, one that says so much about a relationship, and asks so much, too. It’s the kind of lyric one expects from Miranda Lambert, who is first and foremost a great songwriter. Additionally, this gets a honeyed Lambert vocal and some great production from Jay Joyce (the kicky drums on this sound so good), making for a single that goes down as smooth as Tennessee whiskey.
[8]

Lauren Gilbert: I’m 29, turning 30 next month. I have a lease and a pet and houseplants; I spend my weekends cleaning and I’ve started to bookmark Pinterest DIY ideas. And like Lambert, I have ambivalent feelings about this. I miss airports and sketchy sublets and feeling like I wasn’t tied to this place and these people. I miss getting lost, overdrafting my bank account and staying out for longer than I should. None of that was good for me, of course; my life is quieter now, but more comfortable; when I leave the house, I bring a map and a spare phone battery with me, and I don’t get lost. And it is not without some wistfulness I stand barefoot in my own kitchen, missing the life I used to have, but still choosing this one.
[8]

Alfred Soto: The pedal steel lick, complementing the title conceit, goes up and down, while Miranda Lambert rides a once-in-a-lifetime melody, at once winsome and confident. She’s been coming up at least three on every album since Kerosene. Can the best contemporary recording artist in America keep it up? Sure.
[9]

Jessica Doyle: This is clearly aimed at the middle-aged mom market, so, as the minivan-driving, two-kids-stuck-on-Zoom-calls-six-hours-a-day-supervising, Country Club Murders-series-reading representative of that demographic, I feel obliged to comment. (It’s not a bad series, although, like Lambert and her onscreen love interest, Ellison and Anarchy have become increasingly unreachably flawless over time.) Unfortunately, “Settling Down” is below mediocre. The interesting lead-in of the muttered pre-chorus is wasted. (It seems, in the prechorus, like Lambert needs to gather strength to articulate her dilemma, let alone confront it; but there’s no strength in the chorus.) The lyrics are 50% forgettable, 25% forgettable nonsense (“Should I lean on you, or should you lean on me?” If you don’t see it balancing out over time, the relationship isn’t worth keeping), and 25% Miranda Lambert comparing herself to a pigeon. I’d be gloomy at the thought that maybe we middle-aged moms don’t deserve better, but we received much better decades ago, so this really isn’t worth worrying my partially-gray schedule-addled head about.
[3]

Edward Okulicz: Part of growing up isn’t just ruing lost youth, it’s thinking about lost other selves from the roads not taken. The “I am two things at once!” conceit in the chorus is a little stale, but Lambert’s a consummate performer and makes it work. It helps that it’s a character she’s been building for 15 years now. And in the face of a line as great as “I could love a picket fence if it wrapped around the world,” complaining about two ballad singles in row is just pointless; this is one of her very best.
[9]

Juana Giaimo: Just like the action of settling down, the song doesn’t offer anything new, but it still sounds nice. The lyrics are full of questions, but it seems that she already knows the answer and happily embraces this warm sunny melody. 
[7]

Sounds like a bunch of us would like to hear more from this Nigerian singer-songwriter.

[Video][Website]
[7.14]

Juana Giaimo: When I listened to “Damages,” I immediately wanted to know more about Tems. Good for me because this song is part of her EP, For Broken Ears. It made me think that it’s been a while since a single made me feel so curious about an artist and that maybe it’s because singles are now an end in itself, instead of being the means to introduce listeners to a an album, or an EP in this case. In “Damages”, the production is subtle and the beat gives very warm vibes. Her voice is strong and heartfelt, but it can still be very playful (like when she rhymes several lines with “babe” and in the second verse she does the same with “right there,” both times creating a beautiful cadence). The fact that it lasts less than three minutes and has a smooth quiet ending (instead of a big passionate chorus), only makes me want more. 
[9]

Nortey Dowuona: Hollow, hanging chords are lifted by other synth strings, while Tems hangs each, bouncing on the soft, barely inflated drums, then tying the 40 layer bass around her neck, then setting it on the floor, to hang more chords, then settles and begins to carefully make a cape of it as she floats for a bit, pondering life.
[6]

Thomas Inskeep: A light spring breeze of an Afrobeats R&B record, one which portends summer (and potentially, bigger things) around the corner.
[6]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: The trick that Tems pulls off here is key: the beat here leans towards dancehall midtempo grooves, artfully placed organ stabs giving it an off-kilter rhythm, but her vocal performance soars like she’s doing a Sade cover, magisterial and exasperated all at once. This friction drives “Damages” forward, communicating the tension and uncertainty at the heart of the song more effectively than any one lyric ever could. It’s the romance’s climax and the cool down afterwards all at once, a quiet storm enlivened by Tems’ skillful play with rhythm.
[8]

Alfred Soto: Serviceable vocal + mediocre trop-house beat = backyard pool jam for quarantining COVID suspects.
[5]

Edward Okulicz: “Damages” shows that a bit of trop can be made more than serviceable if you have a vocalist who has strength and presence. Not a big singer in the usual sense of the word, but she casts herself in a light where she seems massive. Rather than lulling into boredom, it gets out of the way of Tems, who grabs attention with emotion and throws enough fine melodies for five minutes in under three.
[8]

Vikram Joseph: Tems takes a deceptively simple dancehall-influenced track and paints it in wistful, wonderful colours. The cool, shimmering hook barely changes, but her vocal melodies blossom and unfurl into unexpected but effortless-sounding shapes. There’s a real tenderness to “Damages”, something that’s closer to resignation than sadness but which aches all the same. A special mention for her pronunciation of “baby”, which I can’t get enough of.
[8]

This is a story about control. Zoe’s control.

[Video]
[4.12]

Thomas Inskeep: Shooting for Adele, landing at Duffy — with a power ballad that unfortunately sounds like it came from the pen of Ryan Tedder (though it didn’t).
[2]

Alfred Soto: Thanks to the unmistakable influence of OneRepublic’s “Apologize,” Zoe Wees’ plaint promises not to lose control while yielding to bathos.
[3]

Alex Clifton: I understand this song is deeply entwined with Wees’s personal experiences with epilepsy and anxiety, and for that I laud her — sharing struggles such as these is never an easy task. Having said that, this is an Adele wannabe track with a Eurovision power-ballad chorus that slips in and out of my head while I listen to it. The unfortunate thing is that I can’t even remember what the chorus sounds like when the song is over. Marks for trying, but unfortunately this does nothing for me.
[3]

Nortey Dowuona: Noodling piano chords settle softly at the feet of Zoe’s burning, flickering voice, as she briefly bursts into flames, then settles back into a reserved yet simmering cool that immediately dissipates as she burns again, spreading the flattened drums and the soft blanket of synths. The shoelace bass pools and melts as the piano is placed in Zoe’s hand, making her finally place the flames into a crooked shell, which she places at her feet, relieved yet sorrowful.
[6]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: A completely acceptable vocal performance undercut by its dutiful adherence to the ballad form. It rises and peaks just like it is supposed to, two-note piano riff building to guitar-and-strings pomp without ever giving any reason to pay attention to that rise. Wees herself provides a few interesting notes, in the raspiness of her vocals and some of the lyrical turns on the bridge, but there’s nothing here that takes control.
[4]

Juana Giaimo: The contrast of her strong raw vocals — which I wish could offer more variety — and the over-polished production typical of these days’ ballads makes “Control” too dramatic, making it difficult for me to grasp the emotions of fear and vulnerability the lyrics describe.
[5]

Edward Okulicz: “Control” is an effective power ballad, but only up to the point where it deploys the actual power. The chorus is big but melodically weak despite Wees’ attempts to wring emotion out of it. 
[5]

Will Adams: Fit for any music supervisor’s “moving ballad” pitch, but less impactful than its inspiration would suggest. Eventually the arrangement starts to build toward urgency — via storming drums à la Foxes’ “Youth” — but never reaches any notable heights. Ah well, there’s always remixes.
[5]

• Kayla Beardslee’s poem “Eagle Pantoum” was published in Red Weather.
• Leonel Manzanares de la Rosa played two hours of classic gothic rock, from the post-punk years to the darkwave revolution, on episode 16 of his show on Dublin Digital Radio. You can listen to the full mix here.

So humble — the first acts ever to request a downgrade on their score…

[Video]
[4.57]

Juana Giaimo: This sounded like a chill summer song until I read the very depressing lyrics that could be a Mad Men scene and now I’m very confused.
[5]

Scott Mildenhall: How drunk are these millionaires if they’ve spent all their money on a night’s booze? It’s a trick question: this is sober as a judge, and its attestants’ fantasy of the humdrum is, indeed, stiflingly humdrum. Perhaps that’s a success, but fittingly enough, given their respective recognition in each other’s countries, Urban and P!nk sound like they’ve never even met. Where is home when you’re walking through the desert?
[5]

Alex Clifton: Does the production on this make everyone sound like they’re singing through a tube, or does Keith Urban just sound like that? Anyway, it’s a Jason Mraz song with alcohol instead of avocados, and it’s a mediocre one at this. COVID has made people get creative and has led to unexpected collaborations but I would not mark this one as a winner.
[4]

Edward Okulicz: This is certainly my favourite Jason Mraz song in a very long time!!
[6]

Thomas Inskeep: I love Keith Urban when he’s making country records. But this ain’t a country record; this is essentially an Ed Sheeran record, and things aren’t helped by the presence of one of my least favorite pop singers, P!nk. The sentiment, and the performances (along with the dire songwriting), just puddle into goo.
[2]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: I’ve always had a soft spot for Keith Urban’s pseudo-sophisticated country pop, and he remains charming here — he sounds like a guy you could actually hang out with, rather than the exaggerated caricature of “a guy you could hang out with” that dominates the rest of the country chart. Despite the corny conceit, the arrangement doesn’t give in too much to schmaltz, and P!nk provides a capable counterpoint to Urban. It’s the kind of single that feels like it’s already a radio catalog staple, a track that has existed in the possibility space of pop for decades before its actual creation. There’s something reassuring about “One Too Many”‘s existence, in the ability of pretty decent pop crossover collabs between legacy acts to still sustain themselves.
[6]

Nortey Dowuona: Slow, stripped down soul guitar is strummed by Keith, who stumbles towards the pumping bass and cheapskate keyboards with the paper folded drums, while P!nk just steps on each lightly. She helps Keith, who is wobbling and struggling, across a gossamer-thin layer of interwoven strings doubling as a bridge, then a chorus welcomes them to the other side, with a limping guitar solo following. Finally P!nk, relieved, walks back out to fetch the rest of the stragglers.
[4]

Just when we thought he’d said all he could say…

[Video][Website]
[7.00]

Thomas Inskeep: Oh, Usher sounds so good when he’s being bad. “Bad Habits” is another entry in his catalog of “I can’t stop messin’ around but I love you” songs, and it’s superlative. From his silky vocal to the all-too-brief sample of Zapp’s “Computer Love” (the second single from male R&B stars this year to utilize it, after Ne-Yo and Jeremih’s “U 2 Luv”) to those perfectly tinny-sounding 808 accents, this has it all. And the way Usher sings it, you believe every word — or at least, I do.
[9]

Leonel Manzanares de la Rosa: A serviceable melody and a solid vocal from one of the all-time greats, but the prize goes to that prominent synth bass and the drum variations of the bridge, courtesy of Pierre Medor and Lxrd Rossi, who seem to be wearing their 80s hats tight. I’m not sure if I want to keep hearing about Usher’s struggles with commitment, though.
[6]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: This year, Usher has proven that he can still do it all — from smooth, retro R&B to EDM crossover. On “Bad Habits” he revisits a classic Usher songform: the “I fucked up romantically” admission that doubles as a dance track. Yet the spark is gone — Lxrd Rossi and Pierre Medor’s generically upbeat production doesn’t offer a counterpoint to Usher’s anguish so much as serve as wallpaper, and Usher sounds like he’s recorded this song too many times to really feel it anymore.
[4]

Juana Giaimo: In an age when so many artists are turning to R&B, Usher shows that he really knows the genre. The fast flow captures both intimacy and sensuality. The production doesn’t interfere a lot until the bridge, when suddenly the fun and kind of bouncy beat turns into more classic drums and Usher’s vocal melody changes completely, leading to a passionate final chorus.
[8]

Nortey Dowuona: The spirited synth grooves gather up every single cowbell hit, then drop it on the bass drum chart with the bass synths sliding up alongside them, Usher atop, smiling, sliding right down at your feet on his velvety voice. Then, the 80’s gated drum break happens, and Usher flies back up, hovering in front of the sun, as gorgeous as ever.
[7]

Alfred Soto: Lither than at any point since his heyday, Usher releases another solid 2020 single. Beatboxes and bass lines, messed-up love life and eloquent chronicler of it, he keeps his cool as singer and co-writer.
[8]

Wayne Weizhen Zhang: “Bad habits, don’t judge me,” Usher was saying just a couple months ago, without so much as a hint of regret. Turns out he was bottling up all of that judgment for an entire track. “Bad Habits” is a mini-drama of infidelity and self-loathing set to lyrics which hit a little too hard: “Every time I see my new girl, it’s the best/Then I get another text from my ex/On God, it’s like clockwork.” Hurt less Usher, but keep making music this hot. 
[7]

We’re not feeling too chipper ourselves…

[Video][Website]
[4.00]

Thomas Inskeep: Oh, look, another 2020 Regina.
[2]

Juana Giaimo: Maybe I’m being too optimistic, but I believe that in 2020 we all know Disney’s love stories aren’t true. I understand the sweet and almost childish sound of “Mad at Disney” is supposed to be ironic, but that irony is lost when the song already sounds outdated the moment it’s released.
[4]

Vikram Joseph: No doubt there’s plenty of current scope to feel let down by the gaping chasm between reality and idealised fiction, but when you could take this up with Call Me By Your Name, Future Nostalgia or The West Wing, being mad at Disney rather lacks imagination. This is not the only thing about this song that feels unimaginative.
[4]

Wayne Weizhen Zhang: A tired song about childlike wonder with all the flavor and bounciness of sidewalk gum. 
[2]

Nortey Dowuona: The loping bass smushes up against the synth glass and synth string streamers, as Salem steps in a mess of plucking synths, slightly inconvenienced but each string streamer billows and yanks her up, leaving her stuck and pissed.
[5]

Alex Clifton: There’s some nice moments in here that are quite well done — some Disney-ish instrumental flourishes, the cutesy melody, the interpolation of “When You With Upon a Star” towards the beginning — but I’m not sold on the entire song. I do love that this doesn’t push the Disney metaphor too hard; Cinderella getting a divorce is fine, but I’m glad this isn’t a project that bills itself as an ~edgy~ look at all the problems the Disney princesses would have. However, the lyrics then dissipate into a bunch of fairly generic lines about how love sucks, which is less captivating. It’s fine for what it is, but with a little more fine-tuning this could’ve been rather good.
[5]

Alfred Soto: Yesterday I showed my film students Walt Disney Studios’ death grip on 2019’s highest grossing films. I especially recoil from the degree to which its animated films have taught generations of girls that they deserve Prince Charmings. Loathe these smiling plutocrats as much as you please then. Catchy and amiable, “Mad at Disney” has a smart subject: what is love when the Disney brainwashing fades? But the chorus is catchy-annoying, and Salem Ilese’s parched post-Eilish vocal sounds bored.
[5]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: I was so annoyed by the cleverness of the lyric here that I almost missed the skillfulness of the hook here — if it weren’t so wedded to doing an epic takedown of media for children, it could be a pretty good song!
[5]

Machine Gun Kelly goes pop-punk. Are we convinced?

[Video]
[4.56]

Wayne Weizhen Zhang: I tried to be as open-minded and objective as possible while reviewing this, but I’ll be damned if it doesn’t fit into most of my negative stereotypes about blackbear and Machine Gun Kelly. This is just another boring, toxically masculine song about doing douchebag things and then trying to justify them by feeling sad. 
[2]

Jackie Powell: It’s disappointing that “My Ex’s Best Friend” is currently Machine Gun Kelly’s most popular song on Spotify. This song is exactly what you’d expect from a hip-hop edgelord trying to tiptoe his way into pop-punk, but MGK’s latest record Tickets to My Downfall was one of the most pleasant surprises of 2020. The LP and its “Sold Out” deluxe version, executive produced by Blink-182 legend Travis Barker, mostly trends toward turning it up to 11. MGK embraced the pop-punk he grew up with and even acknowledged how this record became an altruistic vehicle that hopefully will inspire “some kids to go and pick a guitar up.” On the lead single “Bloody Valentine,” the Halsey-assisted “Forget Me Too” and “Title Track,” Colson Baker puts the listener in a time capsule from the early to mid-2000s and executes. Most of the record isn’t half-assed, but I do wonder did Interscope encourage him at any point to yield? “My Ex’s Best Friend” sticks out like a sore thumb. This cut with blackbear is one of the weakest on the album. As a hybrid track that tries to draw his base in with some remains of the older sound among the new, it doesn’t allow for the full project to flow. This single follows “Concert For Aliens,” another standout cut that could have been a Tom DeLonge and Mark Hoppus call-and-response duet, and it actively suppresses the introductory rhythm guitar plucking and Barker’s pre-chorus drum fills. If this is what a pop-punk alt-hip-hop crossover could sound like, it’s underwhelming. The chorus is catchy. I’ll give it that. I can’t help but tap my foot and apply a restrained head nod back and forth. But Baker sounds lackadaisical rather than vulnerable or wired, which is the overarching mood on the rest of the record. Could that be the result of sharing the mic with blackbear, possibly? The story this track tells is theatrical and a bit naughty, but it sounds as indifferent as Pete Davidson’s Chad on SNL. Case in point: watch the VMA performance from this past August, which featured both “My Ex’s Best Friend” and “Bloody Valentine.” There’s a sharp contrast in how Baker and blackbear perform versus how Baker and Barker perform. The former is nonchalant, with maybe a hair flip or two from Machine Gun Kelly, while the latter has MGK singing into the mic with two hands and his foot on the edge of Barker’s bass drum. He even made the decision to alter the chorus’s melody on the final refrain. Pop punk is often characterized by angst, high energy, and exaggerated emotions, and most are absent on “My Ex’s Best Friend.”
[6]

Juana Giaimo: Many artists are combining pop-punk with trap, but most times the latter only appears in the form of angsty vocals. Here, instead, Machine Gun Kelly could somehow combine electronic beats in the verses with drums and guitar in the chorus, and it doesn’t sound weird! Although it’s true it doesn’t offer a great addictive chorus as other of his recent singles, I think blackbear’s verse gives the song some great dynamics especially because of how his Auto-Tuned vocals contrast with MGK’s hoarse voice. It’s a silly song, but it’s a great one and that’s why I still can’t get over how catchy and fun it is singing to “now we’re in the back seat of the black car” and stressing the words like he does.
[8]

Ryo Miyauchi: While MGK dresses “My Ex’s Best Friend” in a mix of the snotty pop-punk of Blink-182 and the doomed wallows of Juice WRLD, the song doesn’t feel built of the some navel-gazing confusion and heartbreak as those two. Rather, it’s the irony of their situations that MGK and blackbear want us to engage with. Their misery seems secondary, and what takes precedent in MGK and blackbear’s overshare is their own adolescent stories, both of which predictably unfold like MTV teen soap operas.
[6]

Thomas Inskeep: Two rapping white boys, one of whom (blackbear) sounds like a nasty incel, the other (MGK) who’s not so offensive, but also not very talented either. And apparently Blink-182 is a major influence on pop/rock in 2020? As if the year couldn’t get worse.
[1]

Edward Okulicz: Because I’m old and long for the ’90s, even the involvement of a member of a band I don’t really like makes me go “aww, Blink 182.” And “My Ex’s Best Friend” is a very creditable mash of Blink-esque energetic pop with the unappealing but effective intrusion of blackbear. It’s got good riffs, good hooks and sounds good loud. Actually, I recommend listening to it very loud indeed, because it’s mostly wah-boo-man-emotion nonsense that should be ignored or mocked by all right-thinking people. But as a right-thinking person, I like it anyway.
[7]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: MGK manages to do horny guitar pop compellingly — Travis Barker’s production is too clean for this to work as punk or angst, but power pop will always have a place on the charts and it’s easier to see this as a spiritual descendant of “Your Love” than it is to crown MGK the king of pop punk. Unfortunately, blackbear’s feature doesn’t fit into “My Ex’s Best Friend” as well as a blackbear feature on an MGK song should — he seems stuck in the same sleazy gruel that he’s always in, the interesting elements of the beat dropping out for his momentum-killer of a verse.
[4]

Vikram Joseph: Does Machine Gun Kelly genuinely have a three-note vocal range, or is he hoping to ascend to a higher plane of existence by fastidiously abstaining from all the other notes as some kind of ritual of ascetic self-denial? Anyhow, this is just landfill indie redux, a monochrome mid-tempo chug for lads who think they’re sensitive because they use moisturiser. It remains unclear exactly why Kelly is singing in an Australian accent (but I guess it’s too late to change it now).
[3]

Katherine St Asaph: Snotty pop-punk should be simple and brainless; I shouldn’t have to make a Charlie chart to figure out who’s sleeping with whose friend and whose ex and who’s texting whom and which part, exactly, makes anyone an asshole.
[4]