At Selena’s bistro, we prefer the steak tartare to the ice cream…

[Video]
[4.47]

Kayla Beardslee: I’m a defender of Julia Michaels’ right to do deranged shit on pop girl singles. Who else is going to push the lyrical envelope? You know Dua Lipa is far too polished to be caught dead singing about burning toast in the toaster. Selena being a perfectly middle-of-the-road pop artist presents opportunities to try out-of-the-box ideas that wouldn’t fly with performers who have a stronger sense of veto. And that’s how we end up with “Why are we conversing over this steak tartare / When we could be making out in the back of a car?” This isn’t the best incarnation of Julia Michaels writing for other pop girls; Sabrina Carpenter’s “Fast Times” is a better execution of the form, with music so subtle and slinky that it carries along the tongue-twister lyrics with ease. In comparison, “Love On” is generic disco-pop that doesn’t complement the lyrics or draw out a particular kind of attitude from Selena’s vocals. But despite it all, how can I not like a track that rhymes “fallin’” with “garments,” and “memoir” with “last stall” with “bazaar”? If Selena’s going to sing about being a rollercoaster ride, then the song needs to deliver on that promise.
[7]

Joshua Lu: We’ve reached the point where we have Selena Gomez songs that rip off Sabrina Carpenter songs that rip off Selena Gomez songs. Is it a snake-eats-tail cycle of pop music or just a consequence of Julia Michaels, with her brand of talking/mumbling over generic plucky beats, still getting booked? Neither interpretation makes this song interesting.
[4]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: Something about this (the extreme Julia Michaelism? her chopped-up phrasing?) gives off the faint impression that Selena Gomez was not actually involved in any part of the creation of this song, her vocals assembled together from fragmentary archival recordings like she’s a reclusive mid-20th century cult musician. A pretty good Sabrina Carpenter song otherwise, though!
[4]

Wayne Weizhen Zhang: Every sonic and lyrical decision here is so baffling and random that I literally startled chuckling on the train to the point where people started staring at me. French intro? The way her voice chipmunks in the pre-chorus? Rhyming “bar,” “car,” “bizarre,” “memoirs,” and “steak tartare”? In other words, it’s a Selena Gomez song. 
[5]

Katherine St. Asaph: “Wait till I turn my love on” — just want to clarify, is this before or after you turn your enunciation on? The disco is decent, and the punchlines are sometimes charming — and more importantly I can actually hear them.
[6]

TA Inskeep: I wish her voice — and this song, all whipped cream with nothing underneath it — had as much weight as her acting.
[5]

Lauren Gilbert: Is Selena even trying anymore?
[1]

Taylor Alatorre: We love our outlandishly off-kilter Selena Gomez lyrics, don’t we, folks? I mean… don’t we? Were turns of phrase like “call me an amenity” and “fraction of my mind” really what made “Bad Liar” such a critics’ darling, or was it the delivery and structure in which they were packaged, the way it all came together to sketch an infatuation so irregular that it amounted to a category error? “Love On” puts the cart before the horse in foregrounding the lyrical quirks, leaving most other elements of the song to fend for themselves without a stable concept to latch onto — or, in the case of the “steak tartare” interlude, a competent flow to latch onto. The title phrase is forced to take on two meanings, neither especially compelling, with the mumbled pile-up of syllables on the chorus’ last line making it seem like a last-minute afterthought. The best moment comes when the looseness in delivery is properly calibrated to match the exuberance of the subject matter: the barely intelligible rising-pitch whiplash of “’til you can’t see straight, just wait, woo!” It carries the pioneering spirit of “Bad Liar” more than any head-scratching line about erotic timestamps.
[4]

Will Adams: The freewheeling lyric delivery (which made “Bad Liar” work so well) is appealing, but it’s unfortunately squandered for what is now the six millionth “Say So” retread we’ve seen. I’ve yet to be convinced that Gomez actually enjoys doing pop music.
[5]

Nortey Dowuona: From the precious little I have read and watched about the ’80s, it seemed like a miserable time. And I’m so tired of recreations of this style. Isaiah Tejada, try harder next time please, and make another “Must’ve Been” if this has to be your lane.
[0]

Aaron Bergstrom: Basic, low-stakes fun is still fun. This song can’t wait to take you to its favorite little “hidden gem” lunch spot in Paris. You show up and immediately realize it’s a tourist trap, but you decide to keep that to yourself. It turns out the food is still pretty good, you have one glass of wine too many, and you leave with a smile on your face.
[7]

Joshua Minsoo Kim: The sweet and corny things that your partner tells you can be endearing, but it’s different when you’re trying really hard to make sure every line rhymes. It loses all spontaneity and charm, even some of the honesty. The chorus is the most comforting thing here, repetitive as it is. And that’s fine: when you’re in love, you can hear the same line day after day and it’ll still lift you up.
[5]

Ian Mathers: It feels like there are a lot of clunky lines here; the whole “steak tartare” verse makes me think fondly of Bernard Sumner, and how people don’t appreciate enough how he makes crap like that sing more often than not (harder than it sounds, clearly!). The verse vocals also sound almost mushmouthed with (I presume) the production and it’s not great. Every time the chorus kicks in the song lightens and feels pretty good but… it’s not enough.
[5]

Alfred Soto: The synth stabs need more support than Selena Gomez’s adequate performance can provide. The title sounds like a promise she knows we know she won’t keep.
[6]

Leah Isobel: This has to be a contractual obligation. 
[3]