The Singles Jukebox

Hold the “motherfuh-in'” part…

[Video]
[5.50]

Alfred Soto: Viewed as an exercise in keeping themselves awake, “Woman” makes a grim sense. I like Cat Power and in the last sixteen months have grown to love Lana Del Rey and think, even after this exercise, that these two have enough accumulated impressions about The Industry to record several albums together.
[5]

Alex Clifton: Man, if Lana Del Rey based more of her aesthetic on this folkier track as opposed to “I ate some cocaine, had an affair with an older man, and I can’t stop thinking about 1962,” I’d listen to more of her music.
[5]

Katherine St Asaph: Among the more goddamnit moments I’ve had with music lately was the moment I realized Lana Del Rey’s thing is also The Greatest‘s thing. It’s weird how Cat Power (along with most female singer-songwriters of the era) has been written out of 2000s canon; her influence on artists today isn’t obvious, but it’s quiet and it exists. That said, I also found The Greatest as sleepy and underwhelming as most of Lana’s work, so it’s a relief this is more You Are Free.
[6]

Ian Mathers: Beautifully sung, warmly played, feels like a throwback to a few different things in maybe ever respect but the lyrics; even if you wished for more of a stylistic blend between Marshall and Del Rey, who basically just sings backup here (but really well!), this is still pretty irresistible when the chorus takes to the sky.
[7]

Ryo Miyauchi: Desert-land soul and verses dispelling public reputation are Chan Marshall’s specialties that also suit Lana Del Rey very well, though it’s unfortunate the latter is hardly audible. It’s easy to blame the similarities in their voices, the smokiness blending almost too well, but Lana also simply hasn’t been one to really put her personality forward. Her tendency to distance herself from the music isn’t doing this promising collaboration any favors.
[5]

Jonathan Bradley: The combination is an intriguing one: the hot glare of Cat Power’s presence suggests always an absence of mediation, while Lana Del Rey has built her career on the performativety inherent in femininity. That tension should form the frisson at the core of a song titled “Woman,” but Del Rey is relegated to a supporting role, and her ingénue act, while no lesser than Power’s attenuated livewire immediacy, recedes before the glint of her counterpart. Which would be fine if Power weren’t on this occasion so retiring; each lead is a compelling presence, yet neither shows up.
[5]