Is it Portentous Season in UK pop?
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[6.29]
Jer Fairall: 21st-century soul meets the shuffles and clicks of early trip-hop, with some dramatic yet surprisingly unobtrusive strings on board to point her towards the eligibility pool for the next Bond anthem. I’m trying to avoid evoking the Massive Attack/Neneh Cherry comparison again, since I already used it to praise her the last time out, but her canny distillation of that sound into its most accessible yet striking elements is so much of what I like about her that I really hope she keeps doing it.
[7]
Iain Mew: I’m even more at a loss as to what exactly this is about than last time, with the central nagging question being what the it she’s giving is. It seems like there’s something bad going down, anyway, and it’s easy to just get swept along by its wave of lushness regardless. A lot of the same tricks as “Heaven,” but they still work very well.
[7]
Alfred Soto: The use of the second person singular proves fortuitous: its distance matches the discretion with which the strings undergird each veiled confession of need and Sande’s repetition of each verse in the chorus (she’s almost spitting them in the final go-around). Finally, it adduces Sande’s modest vocal gifts: she’s warm and self-aware, no more, no less.
[7]
Jonathan Bogart: I was gritting my teeth throughout, expecting Naughty Boy to be some insufferable guest rapper. Instead I suppose I get to blame him for the cheap, tearjerking production.
[5]
Anthony Easton: I am not sure that the Svengali relationship works anymore — there are no Colonel Toms left, and in terms of gender, it seems women have a much better chance of controlling their careers, and controlling their careers effectively than ever before.
[6]
Brad Shoup: If a song has “Daddy” in the title, I’m not in for a good experience: it’s been a reliable rule of thumb. “Gone Daddy Gone” has grated in two different decades. “Oh Daddy” is the weakest track on Rumours. Usher’s “Hey Daddy (Daddy’s Home)” doubles down defiantly, but all the flash is in the title. “Cat Daddy” is pretty great, but wait — who’s that in the video? Chris Brown? BACK TO START. Sandé continues the heritage with this half-heated satiny confection, a particular letdown for both singer and producer in the wake of “Heaven”. The drum’n’bass drive has been swapped for melodramatic string builds and a standard drum-loop jigger. The repeated phrases in the pre-chorus add nothing but padding, and though the chorus finds her slipping her friend a pocket rocket, the damage has been done. She seems to be attempting the Amy Winehouse mode, but Amy tackled the subject much better.
[4]
Katherine St Asaph: From the church-bell piano peals to the gathered strings to the whole “daddy” schtick to the drums only barely jittery enough to register above Alex da Kid, this isn’t made of emotion but kitsch. As Stephen Bond put it, “it aims high, but its means are too crude and transparent and vulgar.” It’s maddening how well it works anyway.
[8]