Don’t worry, his travels are metaphorical…

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Wayne Weizhen Zhang: Imagine this song in the happy-go-lucky montage of a Netflix teenage rom-com. It’d be the penultimate episode: amid blue skies and fields of wheat, our young protagonists would take steps to correct the (not-at-all-contrived) wrongs that they committed in the antepenultimate one. They’d be obnoxiously pretty and naive, but you’d root for them anyways. And spoiler alert: they’d get together in the finale. 
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Scott Mildenhall: The diligent but dull mascot of Scottish exceptionalism comes good, not only with his “In Between Days” jangle, but also verses that cut across self-worth and self-sabotage with precision. Cinnamon’s washed-out drawl is for once in exactly the right place, almost purpose-built to convey a battered defeatism that casually takes the shine off the guitars. The one drawback is the chorus, which although strong enough individually, doesn’t cohere thematically with the rest.
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William John: Something like the midpoint of “Summer of 69” and a Travis album track, but without the vigour of the former and the occasional flight of whimsy that the latter might provide; its overwhelming dourness flattens the desperate sentiment of his words.
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Alfred Soto: He’s one of those Real Music dudes — a guitar, a burr, and a lovelorn lyric, and he thinks he’s triumphed over Dua Lipa. Enjoy that #1 album. 
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Thomas Inskeep: Q: Is this what Ed Sheeran would sound like if he weren’t such a boring, pretentious twat? Q2: Or if Billy Bragg had gone for the pop brass ring? A: Both! And it’s so perky! Bonus points for all the swearing.
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Will Adams: A song of hope that stops short of blind optimism — “where we’re going this shit don’t matter” — is appropriate for these times but not unique to them. Similarly, uptempo sun-streaked rock jangle is warmly welcomed by me in these times, but it pretty much always has been.
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