The Singles Jukebox

Number 1 in the UK. We’re as mystified as you about that, honestly…

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[3.87]

Michaelangelo Matos: “Pixie Lott is the first non-reality television British star to break out with a No. 1 debut single.” And no doubt not the last.
[5]

Martin Kavka: In a BBC profile, Lott states that “what’s good is that my music is different from everyone else’s.” This is about as believable as the proposition that Saddam Hussein was involved with the 9/11 attacks.
[0]

Fergal O’Reilly: Staggeringly redundant posh soul with a backing so comatose that, when she sings “what would my daddy say/if he saw me hurt this way?”, it‘s difficult to muster up much curiosity either way. For what it’s worth, daddy is in fact a stock broker and he would say “have some more money”.
[3]

Martin Skidmore: This sounds like various things I like, in particular Marit Bergman’s recreations of ’60s girl group sounds. On the other hand, Pixie’s bellowing, while surprising given her name, is very annoying. Its ‘uh oh’ bits are immensely catchy, and the handclaps are nice, so I understand its success; I can imagine liking this with many other singers, but not her.
[4]

Edward Okulicz: There will be worse singles this year, and probably worse UK Number Ones as well, but few will seethe with as much musical bankrupty as is on show here. Focus-grouped to within an inch of its life to appeal to the people who bought Amy Winehouse and Duffy records without actually looking at whatever good qualities they had.
[0]

Anthony Miccio: Katy Perry with extra grit, Duffy collaborating with Dr. Luke, anonymous 21st century blue-eyed soul and Amy Winehouse’s fault.
[5]

Chuck Eddy: This quasi-torch schlock that England’s been churning out in the past few years already sounded soaked in embalming fluid back when Amy Winehouse (or Lisa Stansfield?) started it, yet just keeps moving incrementally closer to rigor mortis. Though the “uh oh uh oh”s still qualify as a sort of hook, in their own half-arsed way.
[4]

Jonathan Bradley: Lott’s vamp has a touch of the thrift-store fetishism that makes gravediggers like Winehouse so objectionable, but she also is far more adept at pulling it off; her youthful uncertainty, whether unconsciously or otherwise, suggests she is engaging in adolescent role-play rather than poorly rendered revivalism. The coy coquettry succeeds because it is indeed unconvincing; Lott packs impressive uncertainty into those four vowel sounds, and in doing so far better approaches pop timelessness than more studied approaches permit.
[6]

Alex Macpherson: Funny how no black girl singing soul is ever promoted so heavily in the UK. On reflection, Lott is probably less actively annoying than Adele or Duffy, but her voice is C-rate Joss Stone and her song is about nothing whatsoever. And those “electro” “tinges” are embarrassing: they’re like some 40-year-old trying to be down with the kidz, and what makes it so much worse is that Lott is actually a kid herself.
[3]

Ian Mathers: The stomp vaguely brings to mind some of Rachel Stevens’ old material, only minus the personality and charm.
[4]

Hillary Brown: It’s like a gay Bond theme!
[7]

Matt Cibula: A little south of Northern Soul, less ambitious than it should be, but soulful and resonant.
[6]

Peter Parrish: I can’t really get beyond the idea that her name lends itself so easily to a Beano-esque comic about a nasal bothering pop starlet (Pixie Lott: She Picks-a-Lot!) I’d rate that imaginary strip pretty highly though, so …
[6]

Additional Scores

John M. Cunningham: [3]
Keane Tzong: [2]