And now, something we seem to actually quite like…

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[6.70]

Alex Ostroff: There’s been a surprising lack of explicitly recession-themed music created in the past two years — perhaps because it’s particularly difficult to write something that believably expresses hardship without being exploitative, crass, or simply too depressing to listen to. Here, though, we have a worthy successor to “Brother, Can You Spare a Dime?” (adjusted for inflation). Aloe Blacc immerses the pain of poverty and the impersonal cruelty of a faceless economy in the context of community and shared experience. As structures crumble and alcohol beckons, the one glimmer of hope we’re given is the line “If I share with you my story, would you share your dollar with me?” Government and economists might struggle for the proper way out of our muddle, but on an interpersonal level, recognizing our common humanity and sharing stories, whiskey and dollars could be the key to mentally weathering the storm.
[8]

Martin Skidmore: The ideological aesthetic here would be conscious Marvin Gaye, but musically there is no great comparison. He strikes me as an ordinary and pretty limited soul singer, and the music is surprisingly rudimentary and plinky, lacking in intensity or funkiness or atmosphere. I like the intent, but I think he needs stronger production.
[6]

Jessica Popper: Aloe’s voice is fantastic, sounding like he could have been one of the great Motown singers in the sixties. A song that’s simultaneously so catchy and cool surely has to be a hit. I’d give it more than 7 but it lost points for the minute of unneccesary dullness at the end.
[7]

Chuck Eddy: A better Gil Scott-Heron rip than anything on Scott-Heron’s own album from early this year, and one of the few decent songs I’ve heard to address the on-going recession — at least for the stark first minute or two. But once Gil’s “The Bottle” has been directly referenced, this increasingly feels embalmed for a museum display case, like Blacc doesn’t know where to take his one great idea. Though I guess if HBO needed a theme for a new show, two minutes is more than enough, right?
[7]

John Seroff: Both hip hop and R&B owe a lot to Gil Scott-Heron, even though surprisingly few artists pay tribute at that temple. “I Need a Dollar” manages the considerably difficult task of honest homage that still affords insight to his talent as a singer. The hook is sharp, the drums are on time, the horns are crisp and the singing is soulful. I wouldn’t have imagined something so ostensibly minor would get stuck so completely in my head, but I guess the simple things work. I look forward to more from this cat in the near future.
[8]

Ian Mathers: When I first played “I Need a Dollar” and the singing started I assumed it was a hook singer or a sample and Mr. Blacc would come in after the chorus. Nope, the whole thing is singing. Maybe it’s just because of my initial impression, but I actually wish this was in fact a rap song; it’s a good chorus and solid production, but the verses as is aren’t doing much for me.
[5]

Spencer Ackerman: What you need is to come harder than that if you want to be the 2010 Curtis Mayfield.
[4]

Mallory O’Donnell: Nearly perfect — the familiar elements (loping piano, sparse horn, the blues) are turned into something next level by the chopping of the digital edit. The raw, woeful middle portion is achingly beautiful and should serve as a lesson for those who equate drama with crudeness. Please give this man many dollars.
[9]

Matt Cibula: Not the best thing of all time and the coda is a lot of extra cheese… but it’s the best Bill Withers song in a long time, so I’m bout it bout it. Extra point for when he hits that high note in the chorus.
[7]

Alfred Soto: Audiences remember Bill Withers and Ray Parker, Jr. for a classic song or two respectively, but what’s not often mentioned is the way in which their decent, modest vocals project the confidence of middle-class men who love the women from whom they’re getting great sex every night. We know guys like this but the braggarts get all the attention. What gives Aloe Blacc’s capital-R relevant song its modicum of interest is how easily the Withers-Parker, Jr manner hides the anxiety of a unemployed middle-class man one paycheck away from the bank foreclosing his mortgage. Forget poverty — this is an indignity lots of people understand. Peppy horns and tempo changes notwithstanding, the song isn’t up to Blacc’s larynx. That we’ve heard this narrative many times before doesn’t detract from the singer’s experiencing it himself for the first time.
[6]