No Jukebox…

[Video]
[5.00]

Micha Cavaseno: Scar Jo… look. You need to stop with the music thing. I fuck with you, I truly do. Like, I even defend your right to be involved in some terrible trainwreck of a Ghost in the Shell movie, because I want to demoralize anime nerds in spite of the obvious unwitting power you’ve had in terrible racial representations this last year. But the music shit has got to stop. From the covers album, to the constant duets and soundtrack appearances, it’s not like you’re hitting Zooey Deschanel peak of “Ready to sing, guys!”, but really we’ve indulged so much for all the truly middling qualities of your voice. Let these various indie figures do their thing and write their songs, and in the meantime, you do what you do best: NOT MUSIC.
[2]

Katherine St Asaph: I will defend Scarlett Johansson’s albums until they kick me out of the critics’ circle and am baffled at how people diss her singing, full of little earnest crackles, when Dave Longstreth or Tom Krell or Katy Perry exist. I still like Haim and love how much they’re relishing their God — or L.A. –given celebrity. And I love this, because few things can stop me loving anything that blends Tuscadero, Mandy Moore’s least favorite single, the bassline from “Dancing on My Own” given a hard sanding, and a lustful/ruthless surf guitar line, the sonic equivalent of a look that means business. The “pop but a little ironic” quote is tiresome, and there’s a whiff of cynicism; pop, ironic or not, is a better sell in the 2010s than the earnest singer-songwriter work that three out of five Singles once made. Ask the Stefani Germanotta Band. But fuck it: it’s more palatable from women than producer bros inventing joke popstars, and I don’t remember quite as much pushback for Hey QT. God, remember when we didn’t have to do this?
[9]

Edward Okulicz: It’s nice that the pedigreed line-up here isn’t being needlessly condescending towards the sacred art of the cheesy pop single, it’s just this isn’t a particularly distinguished example of the form. They sing and write the metaphor as tiredly as the metaphor is tired, and the Kleerup-esque intro (very “3am”) is incongruous to the song as a whole, which might be why it gets out of the way for the chorus. As a bit of pop dilettanteism, it’s not terrible but that’s about as far as it goes.
[5]

Patrick St. Michel: Neither “ultra pop” enough to sweeten up the goofy lyrics, and not nearly ironic enough to be funny. Still, that hook almost makes up for how generic this comes off.
[5]

Alfred Soto: Too retro-modern for a Dave Sitek production, I had to confirm the pedigree before I graded this forgettable confection on a curve. My students know I rarely award As.
[5]

Dan MacRae: I’m a colossal hack, so I’ll gladly compare this ScarJo offering to candy. It’s a pack of Rockets. (Or Smarties if you’re in the States.) There’s some mild thrills at first before you sink your teeth and it becomes an underwhelming powder that makes you wonder why you ever tasted it in the first place. Also like Rockets, you probably have an acquaintance that will snort up lines of this as a laugh. I’d recommend against it.
[3]

Mo Kim: Oh, I’m so glad the chorus went in that direction: it’s not even that the verses are bad (the vocals and guitar balance the harsh synth buzz with the requisite amounts of aching and twang), but the chorus is like the moment you bite into a chocolate and the filling melts over your teeth. Sticky, sweet, satisfying. Taking a point off for the bridge, though.
[5]

Brad Shoup: I keep thinking that maybe they’ve discovered this new production trick, and every line about candy is actually about nightcities or something, but only to people who aren’t boys. There are the lacerating sixteenth notes from “Dancing on My Own” in the verse, and the neon-festival romp from “Electric Feel” in the cover. All well and good. And yet with a line like “my tooth be achin’ for your skin,” no one thought to invite Jepsen?!
[7]

Will Adams: Here’s a collaboration that looks much better on paper. “Candy” chugs along as if it’s bored with itself, perks up a bit to introduce the bridge, and then the bridge turns out to be terrible.
[4]

Sonia Yang: Haim and more recently, Taylor Swift have given me quite the hankering for this kind of production style, but ultimately Candy feels more like a song sketch that had potential than a final draft. Johansson’s voice teeters between smoky and awkwardly dry.
[5]

Iain Mew: The bass synths that rev up the song are both the most exciting moment and a bit too much like “Dancing on My Own.” It’s not where the rest of the song goes, but there’s the same sense of never putting a foot wrong because they’re making sure to travel well-worn paths.
[5]