Southern smoke…
[Video][Website]
[5.50]
Edward Okulicz: This is not exactly a hot mess, but it is a mess, and it is pretty hot — the bass and strutting beat are sexy when you can concentrate on them. But a bit of modern treatment on the vocals can’t disguise the mostly unsexy daft rock song that this is despite the best efforts of everyone involved.
[5]
Anthony Easton: The video for this is so formally innovative, and so erotic, but erotic in a way that is on the edge of profound discomfort. The video suggests that Bryan’s eroticism is profoundly self-aware. He has gotten in shit for being young, dumb and full of cum. But after ten years of post-Bush attack on joy, a rising obsession with purity in sound and bodies, and the backlash giving trouble for impurity, this is a perfect example of the space between “fuck you” and “fuck me.” Think of it as a kind of statement of purpose — the feel-good stuff, the drunk but not sloppy, the other boys who will wind her up but Bryan will complete the task, that genius line about the country mixtape b/w Conway and T-Pain — who doesn’t want to hear that? He should be rewarded for ploughing that furrow. There might be too many songs about pick-up truck sex, but there are few that sound this wicked, and almost predatory. Though that’s a problem, it doesn’t mean that it doesn’t turn me on. (It’s also the problem with Kacey Musgraves: in the tight, tiny little Follow Your Arrow, there isn’t any sleaze, It’s also the problem with Duck Dynasty, which has been made enough of a sitcom that the id emerging from the woods, an American trope since, well, forever, is sanitized. This is sleazy, swampy, sweaty, and that pleasure is a kind of political act.)
[9]
David Turner: Bryan sings with the “grocery … bag” cadence here, #nomiley. He is even listening to Kanye, pronounced “Con-Way,” and T-Pain, making it rain. Exactly where and why he is making it rain are questions I want to remain unanswered. I know white people love this song, I’ve seen them say it themselves. But, nah. Male country singer sexy is always a bit too faux-macho for me to not laugh and even more so when one speaks about “hip-hop mixtapes” and catching catfish dinners. Gonna take back that previous #nomiley. This is perfect Miley music.
[2]
Alfred Soto: With all the (legitimate) worry about bro-country, Bryan’s put out a couple decent singles. As usual the guitars are okay, but oof, is Bryan’s voice oleaginous: I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter over toast.
[4]
Brad Shoup: I wonder if Luke slotted “I See the Want To in Your Eyes” before “Buy U a Drank”. I also wonder if this mix is from 2007. All these country boys proclaiming how down they are have made me cynical; it seems it’s never time to incorporate hip-hop’s stylistic cues, rather than namecheck practitioners who’ve, um… fallen off. To be fair, Bryan’s chorus is a decent chart&B approximation, all cadence and catchphrase. But I’m pretty sure this song was written from the hook outward, and his rollin’ boasts have nothing on the goony fun of Blake Shelton’s “Boys ‘Round Here.” “That’s My Kind of Night” has that Coyote Ugly feel, the rigid backbeat and grim sense of celebration that plays OK until the closing-time panic hits.
[5]
Daniel Montesinos-Donaghy: Bryan could be archly turning fairly normal and/or domesticated activities into exotic romps here — mixtapes, fish suppers, fetching beers, congress with the lights off. He could also be clueless, with a clumsy-fun reference to “making it rain” hinting at a raconteur persona he never quite reaches. Whether he’s playing smart-dumb or dumb-dumb, Bryan gets away with it on pure conviction and musical muscle, his band doing their best Robert Palmer impression (but with mandolins).
[8]