You know that one Andy Bell solo single? Still holds up…

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[4.40]

Josh Langhoff: Given Erasure’s club savvy, synth chops, and title phrase, if ever a song cried out for a cheeky meta-dubstep-breakdown, this is the one. So it’s a squandered opportunity, in addition to being really dull.
[3]

Katherine St Asaph: When Erasure breaks down, you get a synthpop, autotuned MELODYNED Gavin DeGraw. This does not bode well for the class of 2011.
[3]

Alfred Soto: As usual, Erasure’s charms are inseparable from their weaknesses: pinched emotional range, Vince Clarke’s monochromatic hooks, Andy Bell’s wobbly vocals. The two give the impression that no distance exists between Bell’s lyrical commonplaces and his life. When he tears into classics like “Love to Hate You,” “Chains of Love,” and “Blue Savannah,” it’s like a florist or bookstore owner was handed a mic and told to come up with a song in ten minutes. The law of diminishing returns has treated Erasure badly, despite the unexpected deepening of Bell’s vocals; he remains one-dimensional, and the track reeks of melodic exhaustion. 
[4]

Brad Shoup: The image I get is of an older man, frustrated that his lover doesn’t take his experience for received wisdom. Frankmusik puts a stratum of processing on Bell’s voice; either to add a modern touch or to disguise the wear of middle age, I can’t tell. I’m taken by all the selfhelp language and the lyrical room-pacing, which accretes into poignance. The song just feels personal, and the superstuffed chorus provides the musical – if not psychological – breakthrough.
[7]

Jer Fairall: I like the idea of liking a new Erasure song in 2011, but this is no better than okay, the space where the big shiny hook should go filled by a dull flicker.  Even less encouraging is the hint of autotune on the vocal, an unnecessary concession to an era in which they should be properly recognized as forebears to the current out and proud pop, not latecomers trying to play catch-up a good five years too late.
[5]

Edward Okulicz: Erasure are now a quintessential “living fossil” kind of group, seemingly the last survivors of a type that went extinct around 1994 (the last time they had a big hit outside Europe). And despite some home success, their last ten years in the popular consciousness can probably be summed up by Robot Unicorn Attack and that one episode of Scrubs. Why? Well, on the basis of this, Andy Bell’s emotional state when singing is so shot that any time his voice aims for power, it sounds like he’s lost his car keys or shopping list, rather than got a grip on the status of a relationship.
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