Back to the middle of the pack, then…
Michaelangelo Matos: Oh boy, forgot about this one. She does sultry much better than I’d expected, and props to that gigantic bass line, which plays the corners like it’s hustling pool.
Katherine St Asaph: I’m surprised by how much I like The Sea. “Put Your Records On,” while pleasant, could’ve used a see-also sticker on every copy to nudge buyers on to other things. This isn’t my favorite track off the album; Corinne sings well as always, but toward the middle, she gets stuck in a puddle of coo. The horns do eventually pull her out, though, and give this some much-needed funk.
Martin Skidmore: I guess it depends whether you regard classy and tasteful as fundamentally desirable qualities — I don’t, generally. She knows how to do it, how to sing this kind of thing, and the musicians know exactly how to play it, but despite reaching for an emotional intimacy, it does nothing for me at all.
Jonathan Bogart: I bet this is the kind of thing that reveals its glories, like a flower slowly opening to the sunlight, after hours of repeated listening. If you don’t fall asleep first.
Chuck Eddy: Meaninglessly “jazzy,” signifying high-falutin’ values, but the empty mannerisms do give it some warmth. Could use more quiet-storm sax, though.
Anthony Easton: I really love beyond all reason the last 5 seconds or so of the trumpet noise — the cap to a valiant attempt at a Giorgio Moroder-style extended orgasm, still too recalcitrant for it to fully work.
John Seroff: Pleasant, pasteurized, lower case r and b for married couple date night sex. Bailey Rae drizzles honey all over this softcore ballad, but as Skinemax sweet as it is, it’s not exactly memorable.