The Singles Jukebox

One of the better posts, I think, for unexpected writer synchronicities…

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Alfred Soto: She could’ve covered Heart’s “Alone” and no one would’ve noticed — such is the spirit of classy,overwrought adult contemporary pop hovering over Jessie Ware’s third album. Her “Alone” boasts not a single interesting line and, except for the way she emphasizes the last two words in each chorus verse, not a single good choice. Its virtues are in the arrangement: pigeon-cooed hook, stuttered instrumental outro.
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Eleanor Graham: Ware’s second album Tough Love was made of delicate, taut steel scaffolding that trembled slightly in the electronic breeze. It was like holding your breath, like not saying something, and I think I’m one of about eight people who took more than a polite critical interest in it. On this record’s first single, she was still loitering at the edge of the full-on love song: “maybe I love you/maybe I want to.” On “Alone”, she’s warmed up considerably in the “Say You Love Me” style, and I can see the appeal, but the finger snaps, surging gospel chorus and key-change bridge are just too Christmas ad-ready.
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Scott Mildenhall: To lend from the Staffordshire sage Neville John “Noddy” Holder: iiiit’s Chriiiiiistmaaaaas. Near enough, anyway. The private mutuality of eyes lost in eyes lost in eyes is lit up like a town centre by its panto stars, but Jessie Ware is the mayoress in chains: accepting but tired of the show, quietly longing for home.
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Kat Stevens: It’s not Jessie’s fault, but I keep imagining Leona Lewis singing this instead, while riding her favourite horse. 
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Nortey Dowuona: Heavy, echoing piano and soft percussion glide around Jessie Ware as she slowly, carefully rises and stands atop the drums, surrounded by the haunting yet loving backing vocals around her.
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William John: The way Jessie Ware’s whispered verses give way to a vast expanse of a chorus might, in other circumstances, remove any sense of intimacy, but that oxymoronic desire to be alone with someone else (well-trodden ground for songwriters, of course) is most convincing when delivered with earnestness, and there’s sincerity deeply ingrained in every one of Ware’s blustery ad-libs.
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Ryo Miyauchi: Jessie Ware sings with an enviable grace, but also with hints at the heart-stopping terror that comes in committing to a trust fall. I hear it in the one-sided nature of the chorus: that “oh, please” echoes both the ecstatic joy of knowing the exact reply and the desperation from the slight possibility her plea will land on deaf ears.
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Julian Axelrod: There’s something poignant, if not downright noble, about Jessie Ware’s transition from dance-pop ingenue to old-school soul belter. This brand of bedside ballad could easily feel cheap or broad if Ware didn’t imbue each and every syllable such passion and vulnerability. The track hits every beat you expect it to hit, but there’s something so satisfying about watching it all come together. For a song that’s essentially a gospel choir-backed booty call, this feels so wholesome — like a bite of a crisp apple, or a Summer Olympics commercial, or one of those movies where Meryl Streep wears a shawl-collared sweater. I feel like I can’t truly appreciate this until I cry to it in a grocery store, the way it was meant to be heard.
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Will Adams: Pointing at Jessie Ware’s past house endeavors is the wrong way of looking at the problem. What’s most disappointing about “Alone” and most of her post-Devotion output is that, of all the distinctive and ear-catching spins on adult contemporary she used to make, the pat sonics of “Wildest Moments” were the sole takeaway.
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Katherine St Asaph: I’ve finally cracked the code, figured out why I like some Adult Contemporary!Jessie Ware but not all. Good taste, as defined by AC listeners (find them in a comments section near you) dictates that voices should be loud and virtuosic, but within conservative confines–confines within which the music should cower. Jessie Ware’s music works best–“Imagine It Was Us,” the beginning of “Midnight”–when she’s restrained, all the drama in the music. Not the most shocking of realizations; it’s been Ware’s strength from the beginning. But the realization, I fear, may never reach her collaborators.
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Stephen Eisermann: Jessie’s take on Sam Smith is as good as someone’s take on Sam Smith can be: beautifully sung, of course, but still boring as hell.
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