The Singles Jukebox

“Don’t, Rush!” is a free headline, redeemable probably in a year.

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[6.11]

Ramzi Awn: Like Reba McEntire, Kelly Clarkson could sell ice to an Eskimo, and country is a particularly easy game for her. The slide guitar suits her to a T, and her voice never sounded more at home. The fact that Vince Gill is such a good partner for Kelly is no surprise — in fact, the only thing surprising about how good this song is that it took so long to happen. Laid-back and clever, subtle and over the top, “Don’t Rush” is a perfectly gift-wrapped end to the year.
[10]

Alfred Soto: When he sticks to guitar licks and harmonies, Gill is a treasure. Give him sentimental crap like this and, voila, heft! Against the organ washes and Gill urging her not to rush, Clarkson gives her warmest performance in years. I always thought she and Sheryl Crow rued the day they realized they weren’t recording music in 1978.
[7]

Anthony Easton: This is slick and generic, and very well done: almost a perfect confection, signifying a kind of sexuality that is just below the melting point, with lyrics that make sure everything remains solid.
[7]

Edward Okulicz: Smooth and sweet as honey, definitely. That said, there’s not that much pleasure in eating a spoonful of honey by itself.
[6]

Will Adams: That key change is ridiculous.
[4]

Patrick St. Michel: It’s called “Don’t Rush,” and everybody involved stays true to the title.  Still, the roof for this song seems to be “best music featured in a Folger’s ad.”
[6]

Brad Shoup: Melodically, the chorus starts as a schoolyard taunt and ends as Janet’s “Together Again”. Is Kelly out of ideas? Her people? Adult contemporary? If you cry during Christmas commercials, have we got a song for you.
[3]

Katherine St Asaph: I wish I could figure out whether Kelly prefers making genial Greg Kurstin rock or equally genial, if quieter, attempts at country / adult-contemporary crossover. I wish even more it were neither.
[6]

Ian Mathers: Because everyone’s an asshole about taste when they’re young, I grew up with the reflexive hatred of pop country that all (small) townies have when surrounded by farm kids who listened to nothing but. What their parents preferred was even worse — country songs that sounded pretty much exactly like the soft rock and adult contemporary that played on the only radio station that came in clearly. Now, of course, the sparkling sounds at the beginning of “Don’t Rush” code more as Steely Dan than Vince Gill to me. Of course, there’s no snark in this warm, lovely song, but it took me years to accept this kind of thing on its own terms. Consider my score both a heartening sign that progress is possible and a frank admission that there’s still some to be made.
[6]