The Singles Jukebox

Where else to start but the undisputed No. 1 song in America (only somewhat pejorative)?

[Video]
[4.89]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: Last time we checked in, we referred to Jackman Harlow and his raps as “mediocre”, “out of ideas”, “perfunctory”, “lazily gentrifying Babyface Ray”, “very boring”, “very gross”, “smart”, and “mumbled noncommittal twaddle.” All these things are still absolutely true with regard to his work on “Lovin on Me”, and yet something about the song still compels me. It’s not just that gorgeous sample – it’s something about Harlow himself, how his pathetic charisma feeds so goofily into the beat. His whole career has been positioned as a crux between the suave pop star and man-of-the-people rapper battling in his mind, but “Lovin on Me” succeeds because it rejects that dichotomy. Instead, Harlow simply fills a pop ecosystem niche long vacant: Flo Rida.
[6]

Jacob Satter: Whenever I queue up Jack Harlow, I go in certain that I must be overstating how much I dislike his casual flow, his fratty sneer, his proud fuccboi pose. Then I hit play, and Nilla Wafers would never.
[3]

Andrew Karpan: Impressively unpleasant, Harlow’s commitment to impersonating the most unbearable person you know accomplishes rare, unforeseen heights in this curious flip of an entirely forgotten Detroit R&B record dug up from the forgotten embers of 1995. Unlike Cadillac Dale, whose voice carries with it the broken, soulful signification of failure and frustration, Harlow’s career is one of perseverance, a kind of diligent technical precision taking the place of either form or substance. His rapping on “Lovin on Me” is almost good in the kind of tightly-rehearsed/‘90s kind of way that the format demands, even if none of it means anything.  The fact that he’s landed three number one hits doing this and, say, J. Cole has netted zero surely says something. 
[5]

Ian Mathers: If you look up Cadillac Dale’s “Whatever (Bass Soliloquy)”– perfectly fine song! — it is immediately clear how great this production is, absolutely an example of someone having the ears to take a one-off from the intro and realize it’s a great fucking hook. It’s just a shame the perpetually charmless Jack Harlow gets to take up so much air on the track; imagine how good this would be with someone with anything of interest to add, or even just as a mostly instrumental floor filler? Most disappointing presence of a rapper on their own track since “Hotline Bling” (although in that case the production was less transformative, and therefore less essential).
[6]

Wayne Weizhen Zhang: Remember when Drake released “Nice for What” what feels like five lifetimes ago? “Lovin on Me” feels like a knockoff, aiming for a similar cultural spot: built around a sample impossible to mess up, reveling in its praise, and generous with its humor. The biggest difference is Jack Harlow, the corniest rapper alive today (pejorative, but occasionally not). 
[6]

Nortey Dowuona: Jack Harlow has inherited Drake’s schtick of pandering to black women — see Madisyn Brown’s video on it for more info. He also happens to inherit Drake’s problem of being a generic surface-level rapper who can comfortably ape being, say, MC Breed while not being MC Breed. Someone like Santan Dave, who has also inherited the Drake template, fills it with earnest, thoughtful dialogue about his rising station and the world he used to inhabit that his friends and family still do, and grounds his pettier boasts and bitterness with a gravity that gives them weight. On “Stop Giving Me Advice”, Jack snaps at the people crowding his DMs and YouTube reacts (even the Mallory Bros and the NFR Podcast, dudes who are part of the OVO promotional team, were critical of Come Home the Kids Miss You), while Dave instead sketches a miniature of a fan who is embarrassed that he’s met his favorite rapper at his boring job. It’s brief and not vivid, but it’s a shadow, a shadow that belongs to an actual, corporeal person Dave is living in the world with. Here, when Jack tells the “guys in the back” to wait for the DJ to mix in “Faneto” so they can stop grinding their teeth watching all the black women in the function getting their life, it feels simpatico to that, but it fails because it’s not even a photosnap of a shadow. It’s a selfie of you with someone you don’t know that you claim is your best friend. It’s no “Trip.”
[4]

Katherine St. Asaph: I can’t decide whether this would be better or even worse if Justin Timberlake did it  — “did” being the only applicable word here, as both “rapping” and “performing” oversell Jack’s work.
[1]

Alfred Soto: He’s put over casual incoherent sadism on what remains of top 40 radio with a haircut that’s inspired more teeth gnashing on my end since the invention of the Croc; but he raps competently over the Cadillac Dale sample, and the self-congratulatory tradition of the heterosexual American male is preserved.
[6]

Rachel Saywitz: Nothing in “Lovin on Me” makes me think that Jack Harlow would be a good fuck. He says it himself! I’m not interested in a man whose only guidance for choking is to “not kill.” I don’t get it. People really heard this sample—which is, to be clear, the only reason this track gets above a [0]—and thought, “this would be perfect for the most boring rapper on the planet.” And then Jack Harlow heard this beat and thought, “this would be perfect for some watered-down noodly lines about Lord Farquaad and cheetahs.” The worst part is that the sample actually slaps! A goddamn shame!
[2]

Isabel Cole: God, the Lord Farquaad line is like a jumpscare every single time.
[3]

Thomas Inskeep: It cracks me up so hard that BBC Radio 1 omits the word “choke” from this song’s chorus. Is the nation’s broadcaster afraid that impressionable youth might be tempted to choke their partners upon hearing the lyric “I’m vanilla, baby/I’ll choke you but I ain’t no killer, baby”? Fascinating. Also fascinating to me: against my better judgement, I like this song. A lot rides on that sample of Delbert Greer’s “Whatever,” but Harlow still has to do something with it, and he sounds more nimble than I’ve ever heard him, delivering his stupid yet catchy lines. The musical equivalent of a Rice Krispie treat, “Lovin on Me” is sweet, empty calories.  
[6]

Edward Okulicz: Since I don’t think you can be vanilla if you’re choking your partner, presumably Jack means he tastes of vanilla. But vanilla isn’t plain or white — it’s an expensive spice that imparts an incredibly rich, complex taste to foods that is utterly unlike cheaply flavoured vanilla ice cream. Jack having written two mid verses and one that’s extremely lame, and having repeated the lame part three times amidst an effective hook that nags like a playground taunt, my assessment is that he tastes like BO that has only been partially covered up by an overapplication of Axe body spray. The appeal is obvious and obnoxious, but you can walk ten metres away and it’s harmless.
[4]

Jeffrey Brister: I was down on this one initially, but it grew on me. He’s affable, he’s got a good voice, he’s got that effortless, subtly skilled performance that would come across as lazy if it wasn’t so exacting. It’s all very appealing and easy to listen to, the platonic ideal of a good-but-not-incredible pop song. Plus: Shrek reference.
[6]

Alex Clifton: I’m predisposed to think that Jack Harlow is a neat dude because I live in his hometown, Louisville. He loves this place — regularly shops at and shouts out local businesses, gives back a lot, visits high schools to say hi to the kids — and I really appreciate that about him. “Lovin on Me” is the first time I’ve really gotten his appeal outside of being a local character, though. He’s dorky and charming, and I don’t know how it works but it’s won me over. The Lord Farquaad line makes me chuckle every time, as does “she 28, tellin’ me I’m still a baby.” (You are 25, Jack; you are indeed an infant.) It’s not earth-shattering stuff, especially given how much of this short song is taken up by the chorus, but it’s a good enough time. Now if I see him around town, maybe I’ll freak out a little. 
[6]

Joshua Minsoo Kim: It is funny how when you’re 28, someone only three years your junior can really feel like a baby. “Young Jack,” as he calls himself here, mentions this anecdote because he knows how to wield the underdog status, that even though he’s seeing an older woman, he will play the role of the dom. It’s incredible: the Lord Farquaad line is dumb as hell, but his persona is the total inverse of that character—an average Joe who is quietly confident and convinced of his cool. The decades-old Detroit R&B sample is the catchiest thing here, and it serves as a reminder that swagger jacking is at the heart of all our roles—societal, sexual, and otherwise.
[6]

Taylor Alatorre: Even for someone like me who still regards “selling out” as a relevant concept, it’s quietly invigorating to see such a one-to-one match between will and outcome in the music industry. Jack Harlow wanted to release a two-minute loosie that rocketed to #1 off the strength of its TikTok appeal, so he did. He wanted to loosely channel the hip hop histories of Detroit, Oakland, and Toronto in the same song, so he did. He felt like resurrecting hashtag rap for the sake of a left-field Shrek reference, so he did. Nothing succeeds like success, and “Lovin on Me” is so self-assured in its superfluousness that it wraps back around to feeling essential somehow. The part where he apologizes to his po-faced male audience for the impending ubiquity of this female-oriented club hit is, I’m sorry to say, Babe Ruth-coded, and it’s the kind of playful self-awareness that’s disarming if done with a light touch. You know what, I will cut you some slack today, young Jack. Just this once.
[7]

Daniel Montesinos-Donaghy: I like a fun pop-rap song like everyone else. Why the hell not?
[7]

Leah Isobel: Great sample. Every time Jack says “I’m vanilla, baby,” I like it a little less.
[4]