Guesses start now as to the amount of tequila responsible for this still.
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[6.00]
Josh Langhoff: Fleeing the glittery hordes, Kenny and Grace escape for the evening to lay out on his car, play some lazy guitar, and sing about their complicated love among Mulholland’s arbors. While they admire the array of city lights over shots of tequila, LITTLE DO THEY KNOW ARMAGEDDON IS NIGH.
[6]
Brad Shoup: I guess it’s time for Chesney to put the Coronas aside for the harder stuff. But “addict” isn’t a great look for him, even as a metaphor. The song’s nothing but pleasant, the aural equivalent of a morning-after throb. But it’s a slight song about some basic cravings, and I just don’t find name-checking alcohol a sufficient sub for some real desperation.
[4]
Edward Okulicz: A gentle song masking an ugly truth or two; either that love can become a bad habit, or that a woman is an intoxicant men can’t control themselves under the influence of, depending on your cynicism. Potter wafts, Kenny mopes, and it seems too benign to be too uncharitable about it.
[7]
Alfred Soto: Chesney’s been listening to the Eagles, which explains why Grace Potter is an afterthought (a consequence of being poison in the blood?) and the contempt for women comes as naturally as the riff and loping rhythm.
[5]
Michaela Drapes: I never thought anyone needed to flesh out what happened to the couple from George Strait’s “Marina Del Rey” after they reconnected on Facebook twenty years later and gave it another go for old times’ sake. Clearly, the years weren’t kind; hitting the hard liquor to get the magic back is never a good idea.
[7]
Katherine St Asaph: Not since I can remember has a song sounded this much like its own acoustic YouTube cover. You can practically catch whiffs of the roars and BPM and digital screeches that must’ve been perfumed away.
[4]
Jonathan Bogart: From a songwriter’s perspective, “one is one too many, one more is never enough” is the kind of line that’s so good that it makes you hope the singer doesn’t ruin it. Luckily, Chesney and Potter are up to it, with clear-eyed, unshowy performances that inhabit both the regret and the longing in the lyric. It’s a slow-burn of a song, but it needs to be. It’s a slow-burn of a sentiment.
[7]
Anthony Easton: I don’t think he actually wants to give up tequila, the woman in question, or getting high above Mulholland Drive. The Los Angeles reference makes this sound a little sadder and a little more exhausted than most of Nashville these days, closer to the 70s country rock heyday. I cannot hate it for the obvious metaphors because it’s part of the song — the refusal to work, the refusal to be redeemed, the month in and month out of fucking and drinking at the expense of anything else, means that Kenny might actually be growing up. He might be avoiding the toxic nostalgia that has been the main thrust of his oeuvre up to this point.
[8]