The Singles Jukebox

So I guess Ne-Yo’s no longer part of our list…

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[7.31]

Martin Kavka: There are very few albums that reward repeated listening to the extent that BLACKsummers’night does. This is a good example of why: at first the horns seem ordinary, and then the horn section solo in the last minute slays one with its intricacy. A week later, one might suddenly attend to the different horn arrangements in each chorus. Later still, the force of the acoustic guitar (especially when it returns after the breakdown) makes itself known. Today, I’m kicking myself for having ignored the congas (or are they timbales?) up until now. Now that Rufus Wainwright has written his opera, my pop-classical crossover fantasy is now for Maxwell to write a symphony that would prove that he’s every inch the equal of Coleridge-Taylor Perkinson, Bill Banfield, et al.
[10]

Rodney J. Greene: There’s a loving abundance at work here. Maxwell isn’t content to just be Prince or Sam Cooke or Marvin Gaye. He takes it upon himself to be all of them at once. Any accusation of his being derivative of those folks would miss the point entirely, which is that Maxwell is operating on the level of the masters. All four verse/bridge sections take on unique melodies and arrangements, while recieving increasingly intense performances. The opening organ envelops his gorgeous falsetto like a warm blanket, the acoustic guitar bites softly, the percussionists find new twists of syncopation as a matter of course. The horn charts are the best I’ve heard on a modern soul record, basic swoops giving away to tight stacatto work, then winding down with layered modal scales. The attention to detail is staggering.
[10]

Al Shipley: It’s hard to listen to this song in isolation without thinking of it as the low-key leadoff for an album full of songs I like a lot more. It’s OK, I guess, but it mostly primes me for hearing “Pretty Wings” and “Help Somebody” a few minutes later.
[5]

Alfred Soto: The lyrics don’t exactly scan (his love can “fill” ceilings?), but Maxwell gets to flaunt most of his vocal range across this example of well-engineered soul. From the acoustic guitar to the horn fills to the bass, this defines “slither.”
[7]

Chuck Eddy: Picks up steam and tempo but forfeits beauty as retro instruments accumulate and his register downshifts; steam and tempo, sadly, do not equal hooks or a song. Then, around the fucking four-and-a-half-minute (out of six) mark, his voice drops out entirely, letting smooth jazz take over. If he’s such a great singer, why am I most warmed when he shuts his mouth? Still, not as boring as “Pretty Wings.” So I added a point.
[6]

Hillary Brown: This is, like all Maxwell, pretty nice stuff, but I still can’t see how he’s going to get my pants off with it.
[6]

Matt Cibula: Now that the blacklash has set in against Maxwell — main upshot being “where’s the beef?” — it’s important to hear this song out of its album context. Futuristic old-school yacht rock fusion jam of the year, if you like that sort of thing. Unsurprisingly, I do.
[8]

Andrew Casillas: A major problem with most mainstream R&B records is that they often mistake “deliberateness” for “songcraft.” Here, Maxwell isn’t trying to create perfection; he’s simply trying to create a mood – in this case, hopelessness, paranoia, fear, anxiety. Everything on this track develops gradually, with subtle shifts in tempo, instrumentation, and lyrical content. But it doesn’t feel labored over, rather, he exudes the feeling. Powerful stuff.
[9]

Alex Ostroff: Like Erykah, Maxwell builds on cyclical themes until they verge on meditative. More than any R&B in recent memory, the word “jam” truly feels appropriate. There’s a looseness and improvisatory feel here, in spite of Maxwell’s meticulous composition. With a basic structure so simple and constant, changes in colour and tone feel monumental. When his voice explodes through the haze two minutes in, it’s pure magic.
[8]

Anthony Miccio: Dude should send D’angelo some thanks – it looks like this will be the 2009 album of choice for soul-starved audiophiles. But for all the gorgeous wandering funk, Maxwell’s lyrics (“this is the highest cost!”) still promise more drama than his voice can deliver. Seven years of marijuana and woodshedding hasn’t made him less of a student – just a postgrad.
[6]

John Seroff: The typical Maxwell track (and album, really) is densely layered without frippery; in a genre as abundantly noodly as nu-soul, he still contributes little bullshit, minimal filler. He is as fresh on the fiftieth listen as he is on the fifth. His typical single is butterfly light on arrival, easy on the ears and evaporates like a fine spring rain as it fades away. So when I say “Bad Habits” is “better than typical Maxwell” it is no small compliment; this is getting my early vote for ’09’s #1 babymaker.
[8]

Additional Scores

Anthony Easton: [7]
Martin Skidmore: [5]