The Singles Jukebox

You would cry too if G-Eazy happened to you…

[Video]
[3.42]

Rebecca A. Gowns: Dreadful interpretation of a classic, with Grace’s thin, nasally voice and G-Eazy’s horrible white bro rap congealing into one steady stream of aural affronts. There is no conversation between the two, nor is there any effort to communicate an ounce of heartfelt sentiment to the listener. The sound would have been stale a few years ago; last year, rotten; today, it’s putrid.
[0]

Madeleine Lee: Because what was missing from “You Don’t Own Me” was an overdone vocal and a dude named Gerald to tell us what the song is about.
[1]

Josh Winters: Lesley Gore would never let a man come anywhere near this song, and here we have one take over almost one third of the track.
[3]

Micha Cavaseno: To begin, nothing is going to grant this song over a 5 because the presence of G-Eazy. It isn’t just because he’s a cloying fellow yakoubian with a voice like a Richie Rich villain or the fact that he screams date rape with his every wake and fiber of his being. It isn’t even the fact that’s he’s just Macklemore with generic rap morality (the vocal tone, the rhythmic approaches: it’s as if Macklemore had never 12-stepped and also spent his whole life emulating Lil Wayne memes instead of Atmosphere). No, it’s the fact that he throws out the words “but it’s Gerald” like we should be impressed. Son, I am not giving it up to a kid named Gerald who probably got a Lambo from his dad as a tax write-off. But that said, he serves as a perfect foil for Grace to rebel against. She is the perfect babyface to the sleazebucket heel that is GERALD. Meanwhile the production brilliantly shifts from Ronson-styled retro-balladry and the vague notions of pop-modernity with the glitches and the sub-trickling. The one flaw that continues to plague it, however, isn’t just the presence of the rapper but the imbalance. For all the power and bombast given to Grace, including a Key Change (egads!), her moments appear to be placeholders of the song, her cover turning into nothing more than a glorified sample. In that regard, for all the positioning and staging, this performance has a hollow pedestal for the heroine, while the shadows aren’t quite dark enough to keep the villain’s Cheshire grin from blinding me in the fucking eye.
[5]

David Sheffieck: Grace’s voice lacks the beautiful anguish of Lesley Gore’s original, an absence only emphasized by the vocal theatrics at the end. She settles for plain beauty. But the interplay between her and G-Eazy is a lot of fun, recontextualizing a classic monologue while respecting its history — and bringing in Quincy Jones to make sure we know that’s what it’s doing. It’s undeniably gimmicky, but as gimmicks go it’s a solid one.
[7]

Scott Mildenhall: In an age of pop music literalism and greater, often shallow and ultimately amplificatory media focus on anti-feminist sentiment, it doesn’t seem certain that G-Eazy’s Mackleless turn here is an act. It takes gumption to play an unappealing role in a pop song these days, but whether that is what he’s doing or not, his inclusion is completely misguided. Granted, someone was needed to pad out the song, as the edit made for rap-phobic radio stations confirms, but some bloke going “chuh! Women, right?” was not that person. Luckily, he’s not as much of a distraction as all that suggests. Grace’s Aguileration of the song was an ideal new area to take it, and it visits so many other places on the way. At turns stately, menacing, defiant and heady, it deftly avoids the perfunctory at all costs.
[8]

Iain Mew: “You Don’t Own Me” owes much of its success to TV adverts, both in Australia and now in the UK. It’s easy to see how the mix of classic song, gutsy attitude and snappy, but not too harsh, modernising production made its choice appealing. The adverts also offer a superior experience to listening to the whole song, thanks to cutting out the decision to give the already unneeded G-Eazy the final word in the narrative with “but just know, you’ve never met somebody like me before though”. Given the whole message of the original and the tone of this version, suggesting that maybe he will own her after all is a staggeringly out-of-place note to end on.
[3]

Thomas Inskeep: An absolutely unimaginative cover with production from 1999 (electronic fart noises), an undistinguished singer (Grace), and a guest rapper to match (G-Eazy, the poor man’s Eminem).
[2]

Katherine St Asaph: We’ve set two world records, industry: Most Names on the UK Birth Registry Now Corresponding to Solo Acts Who Will Probably Be Positioned Somewhere Around Adele If They Get That Far, and Best Big Sean Impersonator. (Other possibilities: the Draper Memorial Award for Manufacturing Desire for Something Hopefully Nobody Desired, i.e. Big Sean Impersonator; the Puth Memorial Award for Most Ominous Sign of Impending Thinghood; Most Eminently Punchable.) The original “You Don’t Own Me” was sprawling and weird enough that the sprawling weirdness of this arrangement passes for faithfulness — even the gear change was in the original. Passing for necessary is a different matter.
[4]

Will Adams: A truly modern update: snaps and negative space; sneery vocal feigning charisma; and needless, overbearing guest rap.
[3]

Brad Shoup: It’s essentially the original with G-Eazy, for fans of subtraction by addition.
[3]

Patrick St. Michel: Square One: Still shot of “Marvin Gaye” music video. Square Two: “upgrade” button. Square Three: Still shot of “You Don’t Own Me” video. Square Four: Me turning off my computer and going outside.
[2]