The Singles Jukebox

“Andrew! Andrew! Andrew! You’re gonna love meeeeeeeeee…”

[Video]
[6.36]

Jeffrey Brister: Platt’s an incredibly talented vocalist, there’s no doubt there, and a good performance can do a lot to elevate average material — like, say, a pleasant but unremarkable folky song about being sad and gay. His delicate falsetto dancing over top of the guitar, how the chorus blooms with yearning in a name, staying away from theatre kid pyrotechnics — it’s a laundry list of good choices, and I’m just bowled over by its simple and straightforward beauty and earnestness.
[8]

Alfred Soto: Depending on my diet that day I can embrace this unmitigated schmaltz or vomit at the sight of it. Neither the falsetto nor the lyrics have heard of subtlety. I am past the age when unrequited lust wears the drag of lachrymosity, but I hope I’m not callous enough to understand when young adults need it.
[6]

Hannah Jocelyn: A friend and I made a list of songs about unrequited queer love, specifically when it comes to incompatible orientations. This is Ben Platt’s entry in the canon, and it’s the best song I’ve heard from him, the first that doesn’t sound like rejected tracks from either Dear Evan Hansen or Blue Neighborhood — it starts off very Simon & Garfunkel, but the more ambient Sufjan Stevens territory on the chorus fits him shockingly well. One problem: the Melodyne detracts from how sincere and pure the writing is (isn’t Dave Cobb known for his authenticity?), to the point where Platt sings “if I can’t get closer then I am destroyed” and sounds like a Dalek. Normally that would be a dealbreaker, and maybe I would dismiss this if I hadn’t, in fact, had an Andrew or five. Cobb’s production is gentle and tender enough that I can just lie back and think of all the pretty girls.
[7]

Isabel Cole: I do appreciate the concept of this aching little ditty about the specific wrenching futility of crushing on a straight guy, and the idea of “wasting heartbreak” on someone who would never even be able to grant you the dignity of being rejected for your actual self is poignant. I can imagine the teen for whom this hits at exactly the right time, and that’s not nothing. But the first-love adolescent yearning of the lyrics fits oddly with the meandering melody and the folky arrangement (it’s giving Harry Styles Presents VH1’s I Love The 60s), and Platt… listen, whatever you think of  Dear Evan Hansen, no one’s ever denied that the guy can sing. Here, it’s hard to shake the sense that he’s deliberately trying to differentiate his solo work from his Broadway past by avoiding sounding too musical theater, choosing instead to flatten his clear, resonant tone into a dull, nasal drone that feels like he’s playing Barefoot Guy With Guitar in a mockumentary about hippies. It doesn’t really work — his falsetto sounds grating, and like a lot of stage singers trying to branch out, there’s a certain mannered quality he can’t quite shake — and the few more vibrant lines towards the end make me wish I could hear a version of this aiming for the cheap seats.
[4]

Ian Mathers: As someone who has disliked Ben Platt in everything I’ve seen or heard him in, I was absolutely prepared to reject this song from its Cat Stevens-ass opening, but then I kept listening and… I don’t know, I keep thinking about that classic tumblr post that ends with “I am cringe, but I am free.” I listened a few more times and… it’s kind of lovely? Something about it reminds me of Gordon Lightfoot? I remember how much songs that seemed to speak to my particular romantic torments meant to me as a teen and I can absolutely imagine the kid who is going to play this on a loop like I did Sloan’s “Deeper Than Beauty” or whatever? Don’t make me regret this, Platt.
[8]

Nortey Dowuona: The frustrating parts of this song have nothing to do with Ben Platt’s voice. Whatever his faults in Dear Evan Hansen, Ben has a mellifluous tenor that comfortably floats in the higher parts of his range, allowing certain lines that feel clunky (“what a time-wastin’, sweet happiness-takin’, self-esteem, mess-making, heart-breakin’ shame”) to float past so pleasantly that when your own voice begins to sing them, they jumble together in your throat until they all flow out with the delivery of “Andrew.” Producer Dave Cobb’s helium guitar chords are also not the problem — they lift Platt’s voice and remain so close to it that when they lean back and let him take center stage, they allow Platt to send his melody up and catch it comfortably. The frustrating thing is the drums; they are so thin and yet so rigid that when they enter, the song loses the butterfly subtlety it needed to soar. Derrek Phillips, who has played with Vanessa Williams and Rahsaan Barber, somehow had to anchor the song in a way that would give it heft and keep its light, breezy charm, but instead he reinforces the dull structure of a second-verse drum groove, and all the hard work done by Platt and Alex Hope is squandered. A bolder choice by Platt or Cobb would’ve been to lean into the acoustic guitar arrangement by adding the bass and keyboards, and maybe the percussion (also done by Phillips) would act as the anchoring factor. Instead, the rigid structure kills probably the second-best thing Ben Platt has done.
[7]

Jackie Powell: Ben Platt has had difficulty translating his vocal talents from film soundtrack music (the Pitch Perfect trilogy) and show tunes (The Book of Mormon and Dear Evan Hansen) into pop music. On songs like “Grow as We Go” and “Rain,” he sounded like slightly more adult versions of the characters he played. He’s leaned into motivational songs without any sort of foundation. “Andrew” works better than his previous pop offerings because of the story he paints of falling for a straight (or maybe not) friend who has led him on. A lot of these stories are coming out of the woodwork as of late with tracks such as Reneé Rapp’s “Pretty Girls” and Fletcher’s “Two Things Can Be True.”  These stories need to be told and provide a certain type of respite for queer people who too have felt a similar level of pain. Platt calls the situation a “cruel joke” and self-deprecates in a witty but incredibly depressing bridge. He’s not questioning whether falling for “Andrew” wastes his time but rather declares the infatuation as a time vampire that robs more than it gives. What’s less than desired, however, is the Simon & Garfunkel cosplay he attempts in the verses. The Auto-Tune that helps layer his vocals isn’t needed. The folksiness in “Andrew” is a step in the right direction for Platt in his journey to translating better into pop. I just wish he could have paid homage to Simon & Garfunkel in a way that didn’t come across as just another Broadway character he’s playing. 
[7]

Taylor Alatorre: I feel the exact same way listening to this as I do when reading the Urban Dictionary definition of any relatively common male first name.
[3]

Katherine St. Asaph: What is it about guys named Andrew that inspires plaintive folk songs? Having no longings for any Andrews, I can only connect to these songs through my nostalgia, and thus Platt’s is my favorite because it navigates those channels best — which is to say it sounds exactly like Simon & Garfunkel.
[6]

Mark Sinker: Not sure I remember a song where the jump from chest voice to head voice for the high notes feels so extremely foregrounded as a DECISION NOW BEING TAKEN. AND IT’S DONE! I can imagine arrangement where this works with the content: except here’s it’s like literally everything else about the song is funneling your attention to this choice instead, and I don’t think it’s what I’m meant to be thinking about? You have a nice voice mate, sorry your crush didn’t work out, that sucks. 
[5]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: Every time I’ve tried to write this blurb it’s come out too ironic — couching my appreciation for it in my disbelief that Dear himself could make such a perfect rendering of the version of Sufjan Stevens’ music that exists only in the minds of 2014 Tumblr users, things of that nature. But let me meet sincerity with sincerity and say that “Andrew” wrecks my shit completely every time I listen to it, every achingly beautiful guitar arpeggio and breathy note from Platt activating all of my sentimental impulses. Most of all I admire the commitment here — there’s never a moment of performance from Platt or his producers that shies away from the full teenage gay melodrama of the lyrics. Weaker souls would have tried to subvert the maudlin stuff here. I’m glad they didn’t.
[9]