Titular angel most definitely NOT Lana Del Rey…

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Katherine St Asaph: Angel in blue jeans – [m4w] “You were the girl with the ass. I was the guy with the untrimmed chest attempting to start a ukelele harmony circle on the train. I talked about Judgment Day and said “whoa” mostly. I don’t really remember if you talked about anything. So I tried to follow you to the turnpike — ha ha, just kidding, the turnstile, the other way would be totes creepy, right? — but lost you and then got totally wasted and fell into the pond. Wait, no, I blacked out and woke up in my bed with some one-night stand. It’s a fine distinction. But the details don’t matter because the point is I love you, girl. Reply to this post with a picture of your ass.”
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Iain Mew: Train turn up late for the Avicii bandwagon, gain all the attendant over-familiarity, clumsy beats and “oh oh oh!”, and jerkiness of sound. To that they add grating vocals and, more importantly, don’t even include any proper drops. There probably isn’t any way of successfully pulling off the title lyrics, but if there was it would surely involve some over the top boshing and not the lukewarm dribble on offer.
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Jer Fairall: An acoustic wisp builds to an “expansive” Mumford-y folk-rock stomp, but at least there are no ukuleles. Pat Monahan spins the kind of adolescent poetry that allows for “a sunrise made of white lies,” but at least he’s not trying out more of his dunderheaded attempts at wordplay (though the “rolled upon the stones” line comes close). The same old shit, in other words, but at least its not Train’s particular brand of same old shit. 
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Alfred Soto: He never found out her name but she’s awesome enough to give her a rock and roll cliché for a title.
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Patrick St. Michel: So this is the nadir of shouty folk-pop. Glad we finally made it. 
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Megan Harrington: As a fan of all of Train’s hits, I’m a bit disappointed by “Angel in Blue Jeans.” Laugh all you want, but in their eternal sappiness, Train pack a hook wallop. In that regard, “Angel in Blue Jeans” is no different, but it’s also a blatant recombination of Mumford & Sons and Ryan Tedder. There’s long been a light country sheen to Train’s best work, but “Angel in Blue Jeans” is written to capitalize on the country-EDM crossover that’s in favor by eschewing much of the modern rock that made Train such a pleasant radio staple. As loathed as Train are, they are also instantly recognizable; sadly, this incarnation could be anyone. 
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Brad Shoup: Like a pernicious bacillus, the Train Song adapts devilishly well to the new high-flown pop sound, offering wordless howls to contrast with their first-take-best-take singsong lyricism. I can’t decide if it’s a cod-Western Train song — à la HAM’s “So Sexy” — or a throwback to that Marty Robbins sound. Rhythmically, they’re still aping ska, which is kind of amazing. There’s not a yard of yearn in Pat’s voice, but he’s got a hand in the structure, and so has already done his damage.
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Will Adams: Shamelessly siphons the pan drippings of late 2013 pop trends, reheats it, and serves it to you six months later.
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Scott Mildenhall: You didn’t know her name, you didn’t know her; you didn’t love her. Your lyrics are outright hokum. Still, if the tenuous rhyming/word association tack worked for “Counting Stars”, why not do it worse? At least, with a similar jaunt-to-groove ratio as the new Maroon 5 single, there’s further suggestion that the invisible overlap between low-key dance music and all the Mumford & So Ons is the place to be. It’s more upbeat than most songs in that imaginary microgenre, but that didn’t mean it needed to be more rubbish.
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