The Singles Jukebox

We see a trend with the titles.

[Video][Website]
[5.70]

Josh Winters: “I mean I could but why would I want to” is 10 words long, so
[10]

Alfred Soto: Yes, I think you better.
[4]

Lauren Gilbert: Max Martin, just because you can make anything catchy doesn’t mean you should.
[2]

Thomas Inskeep: Less annoying than her previous two singles (I still actively loathe “Same Ole Love”), this has some pretty bad lyrics (“you’re metaphorical gin and juice,” really?), and I don’t buy her continuing attempts at being “sexy,” but at least the production has a little oomph to it. For radio pop in 2016, it’s a little slinky, so I’ll give it that. 
[4]

Danilo Bortoli: Songs like “Hands To Myself” are becoming increasingly hard to find these days because they tend to come from pop artists with no clear view or aesthetics — these people are what pop music wants them to be. Which is no complaint: Selena Gomez is one of those, an artist  wandering the pop landscape with no clear objective. Until, of course, something like Revival came along. I bet, for instance, that Gomez sees “Hands to Myself” as a work of transition. It’s both adventurous — you don’t get to listen to spoken word and Balearic beats on the radio every day, do you — while yet sharing a very definite idea of what Perfect Pop used to be as a concept. It’s constructed surgically, partially because Max Martin is in here, partly because Selena might know that the source of addiction is, at heart, control: “Hands to Myself” is that unique, all-encompassing kind of song that just gives and keeps giving, all because you want to get past its contained, suffocating atmosphere in the beginning of the track. And when the song finally escalates into full-blown euphoria, nothing is actually changed. Over the last few days, I’ve been listening to this song and it amazes me how it fits into a vicious circle — just like in the video, a perfect metaphor for addiction. It keeps giving. Beyond answers, I think, but still quite something.
[9]

Leonel Manzanares de la Rosa: The percussive yet understated rhythm, complete with those clicks and handclaps, is pure seduction. It’s has a darkness to it, and it matches Selena’s coy, breathy voice in beautiful, sensual synergy. “Hands to Myself” is both restrained and powerful; the lyrical playfulness and the Swedish production will perpetuate the Tove Lo comparisons, but Selena’s unique charms shine throughout the track. Unlike most Max Martin-assisted singles, it doesn’t grow into a massive chorus, but it’s entirely true to his tradition of making a hook out of everything. 
[7]

Katherine St Asaph: The Conversation, as it is in 2016: lust spoken about in kindergarten language and “metaphorical” tell-not-showing, every lyric either whispered or tossed off with faux-conversational anomie, references to the “doctor” dropped so listeners know this is a problem, see. The Conversation is what you’re left addressing in the absence of an actual song.
[4]

Brad Shoup: “I mean I could, but why would I want to” unfurls like a national anthem for a country yet to be declared. Gomez owns this, even the parts where she sings about gin and juice, even the parts where she sounds like Sia. This is the Sandals version of tropical house, where everything is flattened and blinding. It’s great. The percussion (a galloping melange of snaps, claps, maybe a guy gulping?) is the inhuman star, bridging all these Selenas, bowing out for the only phrase that matters. 
[8]

Andy Hutchins: The Justin Tranter/Julia Michaels team comes through with music and lyrics somewhere between their frozen daiquiri best (“Sorry”) and Sia’s aerials, triangulating their views on sex (they also co-wrote baby’s-first-submission soundtrack “Good For You” and Hailee Steinfeld onanism anthem “Love Myself”), and pop’s ablest chameleon whispurrs her way through it. Selena’s most distinctive personality on wax is long behind her (rest in peace, The Scene), and I’m wistful for the spikier stabs of her teenage years, because the reinvention of Gomez as sex kitten doesn’t quite work for me, but she’s found a milieu that suits her limited range; she seems perfectly happy to mine it for as long as possible, and I’m perfectly happy to listen to “Naturally” instead.
[5]

Mo Kim: Propulsive synth refrain, but Selena’s whispered desire begins at interesting ends of boring.
[4]