The Singles Jukebox

Try harder…

[Video][Website]
[5.67]

Patrick St. Michel: If you told me Gwen Stefani was digging into the ’90s for her new single, I’d be stone-faced. But I wouldn’t have expected her to opt for The Cardigans. This is bubbly and pitter-pattering in all the right places, a sound that I’m happy can find some space in the mainstream conscious in 2016. That said, this ultimately just makes me want to listen to “Lovefool,” which isn’t the worst element to be docked for.  
[6]

Alfred Soto: Clever of you, Gwen, to address the title entreaty to skeptics like me. The youuuus complement the rhythm guitar skitters, and if doesn’t sound as buoyant as the best Kylie or the Cardigan’s “Lovefool,” to which a critic has compared “Make Me Like You.” I’d rather hear it on the radio than “The Sweet Escape.”
[6]

Madeleine Lee: The punchline writes itself, but I wouldn’t be mad if this came on as I was walking down the street on a sunny spring day, or in a car with friends driving somewhere fun, or in a cute rom-com montage. It will probably help pass the time when I’m waiting to pay for toothpaste, too.
[5]

Cassy Gress: This didn’t make me like it. Gwen sounds like she is singing most of the song while making a duckface; she’s always had an element of that in her vocals, but not usually for an entire song like this. The beat is soulless and boring, and, well, I’m trying real hard not to let my personal “ew, him?” feelings override my more rational opinions on this, but it’s not really working.
[3]

Leonel Manzanares de la Rosa: It’s weird to hear such an effervescent disco-pop tune with little sonic virtues everywhere, and having Gwen’s voice as perhaps its only downfall. I wanted to like this creamy pop confection way more, but I just don’t hear her matching the joy in those hooks, or the rhythmic elasticity of the awesome bassline. And this is the woman whose zesty delivery made “Hollaback Girl” part of the canon. Should we blame Blake Shelton?
[5]

Scott Mildenhall: Warring butterflies and conflicted delight — this is glorious turmoil, because turmoil is what it really is not. She simultaneously has her head in her hands and her head in the clouds, but she knows the clouds are going to win out, because they’re so floaty and pillowy and light and most definitely not filled with rain. It’s as dissonant as “Cool”, but in the opposite direction. Here the friction is lyrical and the certainty is musical; heady.
[7]

Jonathan Bradley: Stefani’s petulance — “I’m so mad at you cause now you got me missing you” — is enough fun that the swerve into sincerity that is the “thank god that I found you” rejoinder is only puzzling. Ostensibly sunny in sound and ostensibly pouty in attitude, the mixture is oddly innocuous: Stefani sounds ultimately neither lovestruck nor conflicted. The grating whoops on the hook seal the deal: for a tantrum, “Make Me Like You” not nearly dramatic enough.
[5]

Juana Giaimo: This is too happy for my taste. Those high-pitched yous and the glossy production contrast with Gwen Stefani’s dubious vocals, as well as with the lyrics of the song. In such positive spirits, the insecurities of meeting someone new get lost and as a result, “Make Me Like You” ends up being another bland song about a new love.
[6]

Brad Shoup: The track is flat —  a rote bassline and clipped rhythm guitar — so it’s up to Stefani to dump her brain, as usual. She turns the question into a real accusation; the parts where she thanks God are a parody of relief. She needs a producer who’ll write a song around her.
[5]

Will Adams: “Make Me Like You” has the same effortless quality of Stefani’s best solo work like “Early Winter,” “Cool,” and “Danger Zone,” but there’s also that SoCal sunniness recalling No Doubt. A better lead single than what was actually offered; there’s no fuss here, no gimmicks, just a simple message paired with a simple summer-pop arrangement.
[7]

Katherine St Asaph: Solo Gwen Stefani can be split almost 50-50 into unabashed bangers of every pop sort and unabashed, ever-weirder gimmickry: that is, the songs that have engulfed her legacy. “Make Me Like You” is the former, and one you don’t hear much of at that: a sunshine-pop version of Britney Spears’s “Sometimes.” Her voice is an entire arsenal of pouts, sighs, and other vocal tricks pop’s abandoned, and her supposedly-reluctant protag doth protest as much as Jennifer Paige in “Crush”; they both love to love. All in all, much better proof Gwen should be missed than “Baby Don’t Lie.” Maybe the next one might even be essential.
[6]

Jonathan Bogart: God dammit. Puppy-love new wave is my kryptonite.
[7]