Wednesday, August 9th, 2017

Billy Currington – Do I Make You Wanna

Well, does he?


Thomas Inskeep: Not with this weak-ass song, you don’t.

Josh Love: Currington’s been plugging away for over a decade now as one of country’s BMOCs without ever really breaking through to the larger pop consciousness, his highest-charting albums scraping the bottom of the top 10. Yet he sounds fine with where he’s plateaued, his reluctance to really push against the boundaries of his artistry mirroring the lackadaisical, three-margs-deep bonhomie of his songs themselves. “Do I Make You Wanna” is a quintessential offering from the curly-haired lug; whereas the title of Usher’s “You Make Me Wanna” perfectly captured his inarticulate giddiness at the possibilities of new love, in Currington’s hands a similar phrase instead conveys his lazy geniality. You fill in the blanks, Billy’s down for whatever.

Stephen Eisermann: Billy, Billy, Billy. Why are you singing a demo for a future Sam Hunt record? You’re better than this. (Barely) country-pop doesn’t fit your voice, and these immature lyrics don’t complement your persona.

Katie Gill: The entirety of what’s wrong in this song is summed up by the lyric “do I make you wanna be yourself.” It’s a song that’s ostensibly about their relationship except, like every white man in a conversation, Currington’s making it about HIM. This constant refrain of “do I make you wanna do this” and “do I make you wanna do that” makes the song uneven at best and tacky at worst.

Anthony Easton: The question “do I make you wanna fuck” is not included. It’s lesser for it.

Edward Okulicz: Currington sings this one with little-boy shyness and a soft-rock crunch worthy of Bryan Adams’ best. That tentativeness can’t quite save a line as inherently icky as “do I make you feel pretty?” but that’s over quickly and the song’s practically all chorus, the verses flowing seamlessly from it. Also relevant: Billy Currington appears to like karaoke, based on this and “Don’t It.” I’m a sucker for smooth country and this hits all my pleasure points. While it doesn’t quite make me wanna quite as much as, say, “You Make Me Wanna” by Thomas Rhett (or “U Make Me Wanna” by Usher), it did make me hit repeat. I still wouldn’t go to Vegas with him, though.

Alfred Soto: The thin layer of silt through which Billy Currington sings his ordinary tunes goes a long way toward selling them; this one has an acoustic arpeggio and an unexpected guitar solo. I’ll forget it tomorrow, but it ain’t bad.

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