The Singles Jukebox

Pop, to two decimal places.

Crowded House – Saturday Sun

Their greatest hits album is fantastic. This, though…



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[4.33]

Jonathan Bogart: Even when “new Crowded House single” was the exact four words necessary to make me desperate to hear a song, I wouldn’t have liked this one very much. “The madness is won” and “my head is alright” are no doubt very good things to tell your therapist, but in pop music they’re pretty damn boring.
[4]

Chuck Eddy: They struck me as one of history’s blandest (and least powerful) excuses for powerpop even in their anal-compulsive alleged heyday, and they certainly don’t seem to have improved since. Best you can say about this is that the chorus maybe hints at a “mood”, on first run-through (i.e., I do like the idea of a song about a late Saturday afternoon, as the game wanes). After that… snore.
[3]

Martin Skidmore: I hadn’t realised they were still going, and I can’t say I am pleased to find they are (well, going again, really). This muddy soft-rock number rambles on for a while, with random guitar playing thrown in occasionally to no effect. Time for another decade off.
[2]

Katherine St Asaph: I’m sure this will garner some “past-their-prime” comments, but even though I’m not overly familiar with Crowded House’s back catalog, this is lovely: cocooning and graceful, with just enough energy not to fall away. Gorgeous chord progressions, too.
[7]

Pete Baran: I can’t say “Saturday Sun” is a poor relation to their other hits, as it’s cut from a pretty similar cloth and seems to have more guts than much of their 90s output. I can’t say I would seek it out, but I am almost certain it probably cheers up Ken Bruce when he gets to play it, so good luck to them.
[5]

Alfred Soto: I have enough moments when I’ll call America’s collective shrug to Neil Finn’s post-1988 career a rank offense, mitigating my suspicion that he’s rather dull and a bit of a sap. Like many aging melodists, his craft succeeds insofar as it pillages chord gestures and mixing board tricks without much regard for autobiographical correlatives. In short, I don’t know why the hell anyone should care about Neil Finn when you can find plenty of examples of “thoughtful” “melodic” pop on the charts. Then I remember “Don’t Dream It’s Over” and “Fall At Your Feet.”
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