From the Grammys to the Jukebox…
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[5.62]
Julian Axelrod: When I think about Vallejo’s contributions to the modern musical landscape, acronym’d acts like SOB x RBE come to mind before H.E.R. The golden-voiced enigma’s grown folk R&B boasts an opaque anonymity that feels like it came from a distant planet, rather than any local scene here on Earth. But “Slide” sheds the detached spaciness of her earlier output for a propulsive fuck jam rooted in West coast signifiers. When she sings about going dumb in candy-painted cars with an E-40 interpolation, it tells me more about the real H.E.R. than any confessional slow jam. Hometown hero Cardo gives his murky backdrop an effortless bounce, evoking a bleary bacchanalia where the air is still thick and humid at 4 am. And YG’s verse finds the right balance between hardass and horndog, complete with a Fall Out Boy reference that still makes my eyes bug on the 100th listen. Blame my California bias, but I wouldn’t mind an album of low-rider music from H.E.R.
[8]
Tobi Tella: One thing I appreciate about H.E.R. is the surprising diversity she’s shown after only a short time: this uptempo is a complete switch from the slow jams she’s been doing, and while there’s not a ton of depth it never stops sounding smooth and fun. Points off for YG, who can be charmingly abrasive at times but here his weirdly misogynistic bars are a distraction from the main event.
[7]
Thomas Inskeep: On “Slide,” H.E.R. proves that she can do more than make languid Adult R&B — this is a contemporary R&B, unfortunately complete with YG verses that are so bad (“I need my bitch in an apron”) they actually detract. Which is a shame, because H.E.R.’s combo of detuned keys and trappish beat here is a winner.
[6]
Joshua Minsoo Kim: YG’s guest verse derails the song, yes, but by the time H.E.R. comes back you realize how little she has to offer here. There’s a sense that everything here is a bit forced, less lived-in than any of her somnambulant ballads or adult contemporary-suited hits. I don’t mind when H.E.R. sounds sedated, but there’s a large dissonance when a song aims to be steamy and feels anesthetized.
[4]
Micha Cavaseno: One of the most joyless R&B singles in some time, to the point even YG can’t fake enthusiasm despite being an insanely reliable guest verse provider. (The man hit a home run for a Lil Xan album!) H.E.R. aspiring for casual smoked-out cool just sounds like dreary lethargy and this beat is the most 9th tier rewrite of every post-Ratchet groove you can think of. Improbable to think one finds this inviting as much as inoffensive.
[2]
Ryo Miyauchi: H.E.R. writes in a lot of details, many of them references cribbed from various local rap scenes, and yet the actual experience feels too opaque to stay engaged. She sits too comfortably despite her telling of a so-called love on the run, and it’s also hard to get any sense of stakes from Cardo’s anonymous R&B beat.
[5]
Brad Shoup: “Slide” is about endless possibility: the things you can see in the century before sunrise. But H.E.R. serves it up as an up-too-late torpor. Giddiness has never been her thing, but vocally and in her phrasing, this is as close to rap as I’ve heard from her. It’s a fair sight better than YG’s: sloppy and stilted, his feature is malpractice.
[6]
Alfred Soto: H.E.R.’s timbre can’t avoid plaintiveness; she sings as if memories haunt her waking hours. Any hesitation about YG as object of desire vanish with the gosh-darn sweetness of his intro. Moving confidently verse to verse, “Slide” has the charm of watching a couple realize in the act of dating that they, uh, really like each other.
[7]