The Singles Jukebox

Thanks as always, Wikipedia: “‘Heartbeat’ was sent to country radio at 1:00 AM eastern time on the morning of November 23, 2015…”

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[5.90]

Megan Harrington: After “no, I don’t ever wanna know no other shotgun rider beside me, singing to the radio” and “dirty dance me slow in the summertime heat, feel my belt turn loose from these old blue jeans” and “let’s hit the switch and watch our shadows dance” and even “out here in the dark, wrapped up in the stars” we finally have the definitive version of this story, by the only artist who could stitch all these fragments together. Underwood is powerful, ferocious and commanding. On “Heartbeat” she is quietly and simply in both love and lust. These men present a more complicated sexuality than country’s often given credit for, but certainly hearing the same story told by a woman, hearing the way Underwood describes driving far away and moving her body in time with her husband’s is crucial. Her perspective is necessary, but the treat is how tender and nuanced her details are and the quiet, spare world she creates.
[8]

Crystal Leww: Last year, Megan made the argument for Sam Hunt being a country artist despite the elements of his work that sound more like R&B or pop by pointing out Hunt’s desire to document small moments in the same way that country artists have been doing forever. When I wrote about “Smoke Break,” I pointed out that Carrie Underwood seemed like an anomaly in country music because she lived in bigness: bigness of sound, bigness of voice, bigness of feeling. “Heartbeat” features Hunt on background vocals, and even though he didn’t write it, it would make a whole lot of sense if he did. “Heartbeat” still has Underwood’s massive voice, but the details that yearn for quietness are beautiful: the way she hears his “baby” over the party music, the “cricket choir” in that chorus, and the “one last slow kiss,” as though she’s stealing one final one before it’s gone forever. Hunt may be country’s newest star, but Underwood shows us why she might be its best. In the face of her bigness going out of style, she showed that she can still make it work with the quiet and meaningful.
[9]

Alfred Soto: “Standing on your shoes in my bare feet” is a Reba-worthy image, and so is Underwood’s lilt. The rest sticks to the pleasant side of OK: not oversung, staidly produced. A textbook example of inhabiting generic crap.
[6]

Leonel Manzanares de la Rosa: It’s nothing special until Sam Hunt’s heartfelt voice comes in. Then it’s still nothing special, but sounds way prettier. 
[5]

Lauren Gilbert: Don’t duets usually involve two singers, not one singer and some dude mumbling along in the background? Even ignoring Sam Hunt’s “contribution,” this isn’t Carrie at her best; the phrasing is oddly labored, and she’s covered these themes better in “Get Out of This Town”. Surely there’s a more interesting song to be written about the National Radio Quiet Zone than this.
[2]

Katherine St Asaph: Rarely is a song so ill-suited to its singer. Underwood’s voice, normally warm and Idol-polished, sounds strangely pinched — all those E vowels don’t help — and has none of the agility and R&B cadence that “red wine, good times, no I, don’t mind,” et cetera call for. It’s actually startling how much she fumbles them. Sam Hunt would do better, but he’d never do such a plodding, gooey song alone — feeling a kick drum through this might as well be The Princess and the Pea. The lyrics dilute cliche with yawn and make boredom of intimacy. If this is maturity, bring back the bros.
[2]

Brad Shoup: I really liked this when I reviewed the album, but I was too dense to realize that the song’s couple are dancing in silence. I hear it now. It does remain a fantastic take on the subgenre of field-tonsil-hockey that’s been dominated by dudes. The guitar (or a guitar cleverly doubled with piano) chimes like an inconsequential clock; Sam Hunt is backgrounded, like in “I Hope You Dance.” It’s really up to Carrie and her sensual joy.
[8]

Anthony Easton: Didn’t the Avett brothers work this metaphor with more skill a few years ago? Underwood’s vocal excesses and over-packed production I usually love, and the juxtaposition of silence and bodily noise would be interesting, but it’s missing something amid the noise. 
[4]

David Sheffieck: Manages to be both wistful and epic at once, largely on the nuance of the lyric and the enduring strength of Underwood’s voice. I’m not sure the splashy percussion belongs here; it’s a dull distraction in a song that doesn’t need it.
[7]

Thomas Inskeep: This has just a bit of the R&B flavor of Hunt’s material, but Underwood of course makes this totally her own, as she does every single song she sings. It’s surprising hearing her singing a relatively straight love song; you can hear in her voice, however, how it strikes a chord with her. There aren’t any “money notes” here, which in this case is a good thing. Great singers know instinctively what any given song needs from them, and Underwood is most definitely a great singer.
[8]