The Singles Jukebox

The theme narrows a little, maybe…

[Video]
[4.15]

Hannah Jocelyn: The first Melodyne’d word of this song — P L E A S E –– had me worried. This is the latest in a series of ’70s and ’80s rockers coming back one last time, normally with Post Malone’s producer Andrew Watt at the helm. The results can either be pleasant, like the Rolling Stones’ Lady Gaga collaboration “Sweet Sounds of Heaven”, or abysmal, like Elton John’s horribly edited “Always Love You.” But Watt’s not here; behind the boards instead is industry songwriter Freddy Wexler, a Billy Joel fanboy who convinced the artist to release music again. If the song sounds a lot like “Piano Man” and “Summer, Highland Falls,” repeated listens reveal it’s not just a cheap nostalgia grab. It sounds exactly like a new Billy Joel song should in 2024, P L E A S E aside, with a tasteful build and some grandiose but lovely lyrics: “Pride sticks out its tongue/laughs at the portrait that we’ve become/Stuck in a frame, unable to change.” Joel occupies a weird place in pop culture — not as acclaimed as Dylan or Springsteen, but more thoughtful and introspective than the Eagles or anyone else in his imagined supergroup. With “Turn the Lights Back On,” it all makes sense. He invented an archetype now filled by musicians like Adele post-21 or even Hozier: pop songwriters with enough depth to earn them a devout following even if they’re not critics’ favorites. The liner notes reveal more connections. Eclectic producer Emile Haynie drops in to provide some additional production, the same way he did on “Hello” almost a decade ago, and the song is mixed by Adele’s engineer Tom Elmhirst. It’s an effective repositioning of Joel not as a “33-hit-wonder”, not as a poet, but as one of the great pop balladeers and craftsmen. And my dad loves it, which is all that really matters.
[7]

Alfred Soto: Despite the co-writers and a video whose nostalgia bid is as, ah, shameless as Paul McCartney’s last year, “Turn the Lights Back On” sounds like any generic thing that might’ve appeared on Storm Front or The Bridge. Which is the point.
[4]

Aaron Bergstrom: A direct descendant of Elton John’s far superior “This Train Don’t Stop There Anymore,” as underlined by their similar music video treatments. While Joel was able to use cutting-edge AI technology to de-age himself in his video, Sir Elton had to make do with the tools available to him back in 2001, which is to say, Justin Timberlake. (Both AI and Timberlake are now trying to make their own music, with limited success.)
[5]

Ian Mathers: Get the fuck outta here with this uncanny valley “AI” CGI shit. I’m not shocked boomers would cling to yet another way to deny they’re old as fuck now — it’ll happen to all of us, I’m sure — but it’s still repugnant. Despite Joel being away for years, god knows you still hear the hits, so I’m kind of shocked that his voice seems to have lost most of its distinctive timbre. If you’d played me this blind I don’t think I could have told you the singer, although the voice would have felt weirdly familiar. And look, respect to the man’s undeniable achievements in his craft (which even haters should admit he takes pretty damn seriously) and especially stardom/mass popularity, but partly given the characterlessness to his performance here, my answer to “did I wait too long, to turn the lights back on?” is… yeah, you kinda did. I don’t think the reason I loved the ABBA comeback singles and not this is just because I like ABBA and don’t care for Billy Joel; I genuinely think they did a better job on playing off their context than he does here.
[5]

TA Inskeep: I’d like to keep them off, please. 
[1]

Isabel Cole: Billy Joel was one of the few artists my whole family could agree on during long trips in the car; my first concert was his dual tour with Elton John at Madison Square Garden. So on the one hand, the sheer nostalgic sentiment aroused in me by the thought of Billy going back to songwriting after all these years is real, and powerful. On the other, I know whereof I speak when I say that even assessed by the generous lens of someone who was once a 13-year-old girl glad to name Songs in the Attic as her favorite album, this is mid-level Billy at best. Lyrically, so much of his appeal has always been his willingness to indulge—in shamelessness, in sentiment, in spite, in just being kind of an asshole—but this song is too busy wrestling ponderously with its own existence to have that kind of fun; musically, it’s just “I’ve Loved These Days” but not as good.
[4]

Rachel Saywitz: It’s good, for a budget store “Piano Man.” 
[5]

Dave Moore: The best thing I can say for this lugubrious comeback ballad, loosely patterned on vintage Billy Joel and a dollop of “Hey Jude,” is that it technically clocks in at under four minutes. The worst thing I can say about it is that I am not yet convinced the vocals aren’t BillyJoelAI, though it does sound like him really playing the piano (derogatory).
[3]

Daniel Montesinos-Donaghy: God, what a trudge — the type of pianoman mewls I thought every Joel song would be as an uneducated youth. But then I heard “Movin’ Out,” and what a fuckin’ joint! (Fun fact: I think a quick browse of Billy Joel’s biggest hits has taught me “Movin’ Out” is, uh, the only BJ jam I like. Sorry.)
[3]

Katherine St. Asaph: I dislike the term “overproduced” in criticism; it’s often a way to sneer at pop without having to say something so gauche. But when you have a swelling string section — a mercilessly effective cheat code to make a listener moved — and yet that listener cannot be moved because she can’t fucking hear it over everything else in the arrangement, your song is overproduced. When you autotune everything about your singer’s voice except the notes that he actually flubbed, your song is — well, not overproduced exactly, but produced poorly. Can’t imagine how I’d feel if I were even a Billy Joel fan! One singular point because I learned something: it’s not just the de-aging “AI” (scare quotes), Billy Joel really did look kinda like Harry Styles back then. (Harry Styles would probably love to remake this. It would still be a [1]).
[1]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: This absolutely shouldn’t work on me. I, of sound mind and body and possessing no strong relationship with the music of Billy Joel, ought not to have any reaction to this at all. It’s a Billy Joel song that is once again about the romance between the performer and the audience, hitting all the marks he last hit 30 years ago. If nearly everything else he’s done leaves me inert, then this should do the same. Yet something about its twilight glory, the way Joel puts himself through his own paces, moves me nonetheless. 
[6]

Brad Shoup: I know I’m not the first person to interpret this as a metaphor for Joel’s relationship with the public. For me, he’s always been a sort of pop midpoint, and I’ve never been able to budge him. Everything he’s ever done has been… fine: the bangers always fuck up somewhere, the groaners are never that embarrassing. So leaving things off with “The River of Dreams” (my favorite) wouldn’t have been a bad way to go. This is confident schlock. The snare smacks like a worn copy of “Bridge Over Troubled Water”; he does a little “Piano Man” twirl before the orchestra goes for broke. I don’t think he waited too long; I think this song was within him the whole time, for better or worse.
[5]

Nortey Dowuona: I understand the hatred. For us, being smooth and easy on the ears is a crime. To refuse the challenges that push the artform of popular music and music culture, or worse, to fight them tooth and nail, is enough to make you an enemy in our eyes. But I do understand the actual reason to simply play to the middle of the road: to connect with everyone since you have learned, possibly later or earlier, we are a rare and bold breed, despite the infighting, backbiting and slimy behavior I will not detail here. Billy Joel has waited long enough — he at the height of his popularity was despised and condemned, a figurehead for the stultifying demands of white yuppiedom. Unfortunately he was wrong; the fire was started, and will never stop. We, as a far more revered and loved writer said, made our choice as a species, and it’s just a question of how long it takes to play out. Billy once wrote of New York being destroyed and its citizens fleeing like rats to Miami, reminiscing over their glory days. But now in 2024, New York refuses to go away. Our mayor, as Wiki and MIKE said, is a cop, and millions are homeless and starving, struggling to keep afloat and trying not to crumble every time a blank, greasy-faced kid with worn-out clothes playing with a iPhone 14 who could afford to give you $5 shakes his head to ignore you. I understand the hatred. But I can’t feel it because the hatred feels pointless, empty, a target for those old timers who have fled the sinking ship and their ancestors who only know to despise the old place from stories and memories. He might’ve waited too long to turn the lights back once since the wires have rotted and the bulbs are broken, but not because the city is empty. It’s full of your fanboys and their grandchildren, who now feel the sour bitterness that drove you to flee and cannot choose any other feeling. It’s not too late — it’s never too late.
[5]