The Singles Jukebox

Favorite televised talent competition contestant collaboration… GO!

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[4.67]

Alfred Soto: Whenever the kick drum hits, I’d imagine I’d think of “Think of You” some more, but I’m walking out the door with bored Cassadee for a drink.
[3]

Will Adams: There’s something weird with the songwriting here. The verses start out with clear structure, but the ends of phrases begin to trail off and disrupt the meter. For a song that’s about how an unraveling relationship unravels those around it, one might think that was intentional or justified, but it’s a little more than off-putting to listen to, despite the modest charm Young and Pope deliver.
[5]

Cassy Gress: This is let down by its singers. Chris’s voice is too throaty for this twinkling guitar pop backing (it caught me off guard when he started singing), and Cassadee sounds like “generic pop vocalist with mild twang,” and both of them are relying too heavily on autotune in their upper registers. I can’t say who would be better due to insufficient knowledge of the country music industry — I just know I’ve heard way better vocal performances in country lately. The “aw come on, even the people in the bar miss us being together” is a genuinely cute conceit, though.
[5]

Thomas Inskeep: I love Chris Young’s deeper-than-the-holler voice, a great smooth baritone of the kind you don’t hear enough of these days in country music. “Think of You” is a classic song of regret, with Young and Cassadee Pope coming from the points of view of a couple who broke up and wish they hadn’t. “When they [our friends] think of me, they think of you,” they sing, and you can hear the palpable sadness in their voices. On her own, Pope gets a little screechy (cf. the bridge) but she harmonizes beautifully with Young, and the production here is the epitome of sturdy and solid.
[8]

Brad Shoup: Holy crap, is this the guy who did “Neon?” It’s diminution by multiplication: Young struggles against the tempo, and Pope can only make a mark with pop-style ad-libs. The high-stepping arrangement points them to some sort of resolution, but thanks to the leads, the track is less of a lament about a broken-up couple and more of a referendum on a boring couple that’s sogging up a bar near you.
[3]

Jonathan Bogart: All the bluster in Nashville can’t beef up the smallness — the intimacy if you like, but it’s too generic to reflect any particular lived experience — of the lyric.
[4]