Just wait — in a hundred years, process servers will be known as “process Mumforders”…

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[3.45]Jonathan Bradley: I’m reminded of the former Australian prime minister Robert Menzies dreaming up his own constituency in 1942, one he described as “the forgotten people” in a kind of “silent majority” moment a whole generation before Nixon came along. Menzies concerned himself with “salary-earners, shopkeepers, skilled artisans, professional men and women, farmers, and so on,” mostly because he couldn’t believe anyone could give a shit about the working class without being a communist. “They are for the most part unorganised and unselfconscious,” spake the PM. “They are not rich enough to have individual power. They are taken for granted by each political party in turn. They are not sufficiently lacking in individualism to be organised for what in these days we call ‘pressure politics.’ And yet, as I have said, they are the backbone of the nation.” Within this great self-pitying mushy Australian middle, feted for its frugality and modesty, Menzies saw a dynamo. I hear Vance Joy.
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Alfred Soto: Australia, you’re Mumforded.
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Patrick St. Michel: It’s a last.fm “related artists” list turned into an actual song; nearly every element of “Riptide” is easily traced to some mid-Aughts “indie rock” outfit. Those easy-breezy ukulele strums bring to mind Beirut, while the parts where he raises the intensity in his voice sound like that one guy from Wolf Parade. The cultural references sprinkled in are just an easy way for some collegiate cred (Michelle Pfeiffer — not exactly trending!). Despite the “shadowy” sound of the music, Vance Joy’s language and refusal to say anything straightforward is distinctly twee (I keep coming back to Noah And The Whale). He’s managed to take all these hallmarks and make something that is perfectly pleasant but ultimately feels a bit too stitched-together for its own good.
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Zach Lyon: Lincoln had a secretary named Kennedy, Kennedy had a secretary named Lincoln, Beirut’s last album was called “The Rip Tide”, “Riptide” by Vance Joy is literally a Beirut song from 2006.
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Crystal Leww: This just won Triple J’s Hottest 100 poll. Did “hottest” somehow get redefined to mean “boring and twee and boring” without me noticing?
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Megan Harrington: How serendipitous that Vance Joy would mention “there’s this movie that I think you’d like” because if Zach Braff hasn’t yet commissioned the Shins to soundtrack his latest, he might consider introducing Vance Joy to his audience. “Riptide” is a romantic comedy set to music, but a particular sort of romcom and a particular sort of music. With the Michelle Pfieffer namedrop and the fear of pretty girls and anxiety over singing the lyrics right, Vance is more or less the pedantic male lead that’s cornered the romance market since Garden State. And now he’s not just whistlin’ dixie, but singing it too. As is necessary in presenting this idyll as feasible, Vance Joy is handsome and “Riptide” is the sound I will always associate with running errands in suburbia.
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Anthony Easton: It’s weird that Pfeiffer went from massive fame to a question mark, even absent from the erotics of nostalgia. This tired metaphor and exhausted indie jangle might only be worthwhile for reminding us how much she is missed.
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Scott Mildenhall: This ain’t a movie — there’s no Michelle Pfeiffer — but in a scene straight out of a cult film about pretty American people in which nothing happens, the presence of a lookalike has reduced Vance Joy to a gibbering wreck, providing a ready-made excuse for the arrant nonsense much of it comprises. (“Left-hand man”? And he has the cheek to suggest she might struggle with words?) It’s fast enough to be sort of pleasant (jaunty is what it is) but, vapidity professing feeling, little more.
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Katherine St Asaph: This fucking guy. Can you imagine if you were the girl in the song? “Sorry, I wouldn’t want to start a conversation, I wouldn’t want to take away your agency. I like you and all, but could you be a little more Pfeiffer-blonde? And sing a lot worse, or at least fumble a few of the words cutely while I strum this?”
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Edward Okulicz: Ah this is the song from the advertisement for my health insurance provider I’ve been hearing for months, humming along to the “all my friends are turning green” bit a few times without ever suspecting it was a major hit single people talked about, all the while passing me by. That bit is a decent hook, but the rest of the song is kind of boring and overly precious (“the car won’t start!”), in much the same way as (ugh) Angus & Julia Stone’s ghastly poll-topper. “Riptide” nicely evokes both the coast and its proximal suburbs, so I can hear what’s attracted votes from Australian indie kids who’ve heard this driving to the beach with their friends and sung along. I’m also bewildered as to why people from far-off climes would want to download an awkward beta-male’s flailing in the thick of winter.
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Brad Shoup: The fuck did the Michelle Pfeiffer line come from? I didn’t even realize how much oversharing was going on, focused as I was on the pukulele. But it’s the safe kind of oversharing, like if Elliott Smith got a lobotomy. If you’re not scared of dentists, I don’t wanna know you, man.
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