Thursday, January 26th, 2012

Faith Hill – Come Home

Hey Anthony Easton, remember Faith Hill?


Anthony Easton: God I miss Faith Hill. I miss every domestic breakdown, every velvet-covered, sumptuous inch of her genius — I miss every melodramatic inch of her. Every second of this — the vocal gymnastics, the guitar phase out, the soft/loud/soft structure — suggests her at her late ’90s peak. But nothing has gone away; unlike Whitney or Celine, she has maintained her consummate skill.

John Seroff: A shitty song presented with a fig leaf of slide guitar is still a shitty song, even if it’s performed by that nice lady what sings about the football on the teevee.

Brad Shoup: Alongside some future wartime country compilation, file in your self-compiled disc of fake soldier songs. (My recommendations: Zac Brown Band’s “Free” and Sara Evans’ “No Place That Far”.) Leave room for a contender that tries to pass off the phrase “war between the vanities”. I know Ry-Ry wrote this for a friend deployed overseas, but the phrase’s self-conscious, creative-writing-workshop lyricism blows the whole thing to hell. Give him credit, though, for pulling the tune back into the realm of troubled (not threatened) relationships, which still has a longer marketplace tail. The real casualty here is Faith, who once aspired to the full range of pop personalities allowed our top female stars, but is currently mired in a personal Green Zone of turgid power ballads.

Alfred Soto: The only Faith Hill performance I’ve loved is on “I Need You,” a 2007 duet with hubby Tim McGraw in which she attains seismic levels of lust and longing. Her voice deepened with age, Hill is commanding without being imperial — unfortunately on a song as generic as Rubbermaid food bins. Someone hook this woman up with real pros.

Katherine St Asaph: Country and soft-rock are fusing faster and faster into the same genre, so it’s not surprising that Faith Hill would borrow Ryan Tedder’s flannel guitars for her comeback. That doesn’t make it a good look.

Isabel Cole: I don’t know what makes me sadder: that this is, in fact, the cover I thought it could not possibly be, or that the Skyped-in emotion of this thoroughly mediocre rendition does not remotely approach Adam Lambert’s gorgeous, careful, yearning take on New Year’s Eve 2008. When Adam sighs the textually unremarkable line “I get lost in the beauty of everyone I see,” he communicates what a precarious way to exist that can be, constantly teetering on the edge of spellbound and overwhelmed; Faith just gets lost amid saccharinely jangling guitars and dull, direction-less bombast.

3 Responses to “Faith Hill – Come Home”

  1. Look, for reasons I can’t fully fathom, I really dig Ryan Tedder. I do not however, even remotely like Faith Hill. I find her terribly disingenuous, as if her rise to fame is directly connected to Americans’ excessive overconsumption of high fructose corn syrup. And jeez, that postpunk guitar bridge, oh dear lord, whyyyyyyyyyyyy?

  2. You know, Twinkies taste good, ho hos taste good–and that said, this is not twinkies or ho hos, this is Creme Caramel or Creme Brulee, or the worlds best Black Forrest Cake

  3. Maybe it’s Caramel Creams.