Title meets description…

[Video]
[6.90]

Katherine St Asaph: This is two singles, actually. The first is a good ol’ indulgent brood, nothing but morose chords and screwface flanging, and Elly Jackson’s found the one context in which her flat pitch and affect works: for sulking. Even the backing vocals do it: literal sulks. There’s a false stop — it lasts a little too long — then begins single number two, the sadness transmuted into a luminous dance breakdown, like that’ll solve anything. Five minutes, and it’s already outdone Lykke Li’s I Never Learn as a wistful/shiny soundtracks for wasting rainy Fridays deciding to miss people. It’s still a La Roux song, so it’s not perfect, but a few clunky “hide your frowns, frowns” are worth a closing, closureless “you’re not my life, but I want you in it.”
[8]

Mallory O’Donnell: Bushels of contemporary pop songs deal with the awkward pulse of human love and the attendant baggage of making it work. Too many of them seem to have unrealistic expectations, and end up selling their subjects (objects?) too long or too short. “Let Me Down Gently” resembles actual, slightly disappointing life in that it doesn’t dwell with self-conscious noise in either extreme. Elly Jackson opens the song like a hymnal, then stubbornly repeats heart-rending truisms such as “you’re not my life / but I want you in it” as exquisite clusters of synth-pop unfold around her like beautiful, fragile flowers. Hoping it all doesn’t make her seem “young, foolish and green,” she embarrasses you with the wisdom of the ages and the patience of a saint.
[10]

Alfred Soto: Several years later here they are with a tempo-shifting floor filler that’s a model of pace, construction, and pitch: instrumental introduction, restrained vocal histrionics suitable for received catchphrase (Elly Jackson has the kind of pipes which don’t need effort to go loud), and keyboard-led stomper, flanged and un-flanged, comprise the parts. In 2000 critics paired Gaga and La Roux. She’s done more with more.
[7]

Stephen Thomas Erlewine: It’s uncanny how La Roux mines pathos from synth-pop and “Let Me Gently” showcases her skills, so neatly divided between sadness and style it seems to offer the seven-inch mix and 12-inch remix within five minutes. She suffers from the curse of the exceptional debut, where any sequel is a vague disappointment upon introduction, but it doesn’t take much time for this record to resonate deeply.
[8]

Patrick St. Michel: The build takes just a little too long, to the point when the dramatic pause came I legitimately thought maybe the song ended. But when “Let Me Down Gently” breaks open, it’s quite nice, a steady-going shuffle that never overwhelms…or really goes anywhere interesting…but one that goes down easy.  
[5]

Thomas Inskeep: “So they decided to go for some of that Coldplay money,” my husband said (five years ago, La Roux was a staple of my husband’s DJ sets. But this is as limp and lifeless as anything I’ve heard recently). “Yep,” I replied.
[3]

Brad Shoup: Toss the fake ending at the halfway mark: too literal! In fact, let’s turn the second half into the whole song. She’s built this entire hissing, belching factory that spews smog and builds Miamis: the sax and the gee-tar and the synths are of the same tonal piece. They’re die-casted, but impressively.
[7]

Megan Harrington: La Roux is par excellence when it comes to constructing a young woman’s heartbreak as disco-dusted synthpop. Her voice is ideal for its electronic accompaniment, a paper thin slow slice, a pleasurable pain confronting the expansive coldness of the machine that hurt her. But the best part is the Roxy-style guitar solo. 
[7]

Juana Giaimo: Everyone knows that people’s expectations increase with each year of hiatus. If you take five years to release your sophomore album you have to make songs that are slightly reminiscent of your old self but fresh and surprising enough to justify your comeback. And “Let Me Down Gently” only covers the nostalgic part, not only of old La Roux, but of any ’80s band — and that sax in the end doesn’t help much. 
[6]

Rebecca A. Gowns: La Roux is a fitting name for Elly Jackson’s project: her voice is simple, but tasty, and always more of a starting point for other things to come in and build. Her music was truly comfort food for me, and this is a glad return to more of the same. This song may seem long, but it passes by quickly; it helps that it’s essentially split into two, with echoes of Annie Lennox reverberating faintly through the first half and growing stronger in the second. Nothing too earth-shattering, but why should it be? This is a song about tenderness, soft pleading, and sinking.
[8]