The Singles Jukebox

Screencapping his videos is hard, but I’m fairly proud of this one…

[Video][Website]
[5.86]

Katherine St Asaph: Pop scientists, rejoice: Cee Lo has given us a control group. We can now, once and for all, isolate the effect of the variable Fuck.
[7]

Anthony Easton: I Love You, Cee-Lo, thank you for giving me permission.
[9]

Martin Skidmore: I don’t suppose he will ever get a bad review from me, as I love his voice so much, and his inclination towards classic soul styles matches my tastes so well. This is a sweet and bouncy Motownish number, and I love the parts with gospelish backing vocals, but in all honesty it’s one of his more inconsequential, less memorable singles.
[7]

Chuck Eddy: Over Motown basslines worthy of, um, the Jam or somebody, the most respected soul singer of our time makes us nostalgic for the classic stylings of, er, Roland Gift? Terence Trent D’Arby? Somebody like that. Take note, kids — This is the real deal!
[5]

Zach Lyon: I wish I had a good enough memory to be able to point to the exact Motown references that inspire the backup vocals/guitar twang in the chorus, so that I could use the respectability of historical context to explain why I love them so much. Also, so I can go back and listen to those songs. This is kitschy, sure, and minor, yes, but all those all night long!s are worth it. It’s a novelty that, unlike “Fuck You,” justifies repeat listening.
[9]

Alfred Soto: Cee-lo’s ebullience carried him through The Single That Must Not Be Named. Here, with an insouciant Four Tops-style arrangement blaring behind him, he out-yells and out-blares them. Leave this sort of thing to Raphael Saadiq.
[5]

Kat Stevens: While listening to this I got distracted by a television advert featuring a small dog on a skateboard, travelling slowly between some office chairs and looking rather glum. I’m trying in vain to link this compelling scenario to a pleasant but forgettable glockenspiel ditty during which Cee-Lo says “shit” once. Wait a second! Cee-Lo Green was once in a band called Gnarls BARKley!
[5]

Al Shipley: His last single at least had that curse word to distract from the musical banality, but for the follow-up you get pure uncut boredom.
[2]

David Moore: The cussing interjections are tired, the whole performance recalls the hammy bridge of “Fuck You,” and the throwback feels more reverent and wooden thanks to the track’s humorlessness and, though others probably won’t agree with me, joylessness. It sounds like he’s singing this thing on a cruise ship.
[4]

Jonathan Bradley: Can’t we shunt Cee-Lo off to Motown Fantasy Camp, so he’ll stop bugging us with his midlife crisis? I know the Four Tops didn’t ad lib “shit” between lines, but even with that undoubtedly severe handicap, they managed to come up with some top notch tunes. Green’s exhumation proves he can replicate some old soul tropes, but not that he has any idea how to make them sparkle. The Big Chill is not a mission statement.
[4]

Edward Okulicz: Second single time, which means that it’s time for less attention-grabbing and more wholesome radio-devouring. Minus the gratuitous profanity of “Fuck You”, all that there is to focus your ears on is the sumptuous arrangement, impassioned yet wounded singing and a top class song. The chorus is fine, but it’s the pre-chorus and middle-eight that are the twin showstoppers here.
[8]

Jer Fairall: I didn’t think this was anywhere close to an album highlight, certainly not over the identical yet far wittier “Satisfied”, the swooning “Wildflower” or the utterly gorgeous Band of Horses cover “No One’s Gonna Love You”, but hearing it in isolation highlights two tiny magical moments that nudge me towards belated affection. One is the near-whispered “shit” in between “…until I lost this legendary woman” and “now I’m sure they don’t make ’em like her anymore,” like he’s only realized mid-thought JUST HOW MUCH this stings. The other is the “oh honey, how could you regret me when you can’t even forget me” line, or rather his delivery of it underneath the “Heatwave”-like bass swing into the chorus, the song’s most provocative kiss-off delivered like a mumbled aside. For an album I initially semi-dismissed in print as a minor letdown, The Lady Killer is starting to feel more and more like a deep well.
[8]

Josh Love: I really want to like this song. Lyrically, it does everything better than the cynical, cheap “Fuck You,” even down to the use of profanity (here, “Shit!” works wonders as a simple exclamation of regret). Cee-Lo’s not lashing out at a gold-digging bitch this time but maturely taking stock of his own mistakes, and when he sings, “I’m not ashamed to say / That you are the one,” it’s genuinely spine-tingling. Unfortunately, the music’s the same boring smiley soul-pop revue bullshit he’s been proferring now for a half-decade.
[5]

John Seroff: Listening to Cee-Lo play wiffle ball with a dress-to-impress interpolation of HDH’s “Same Old Song”, I couldn’t help but be reminded of a far superior “It’s OK” from another Dungeon Fam alumnus back in 2000: Slimm Cutta Calhoun’s. In those pre-Don’t Cha days, Monsieur DeCarlo was fresh off of World Party and eying a first solo album. I don’t begrudge Cee-Lo his mainstream success, but boy do I ever miss the time when this kind of AC shuck’n’jive would’ve been laughed off as the waste of his talents that it so sadly is. Do yourself a favor and give the new G-Mob “Red Right Hand” double-take Night Train a try instead.
[4]