New to FOX this fall: WHEN SEX IS NOT ON FIRE…

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[5.20]

M. H. Lo: Dear Lily, remember how everyone crawled up my ass for misusing the word “ironic”? Yeah. You might want to be careful, because you have an odd understanding of “fairness.” Apparently, your boyfriend is smart, mature, loves you, does not beat you, “treats you with respect” – but sucks in bed, and, how you say, pulls his trigger a bit too quickly. But you realize that the universe does not owe you a perfect man, right? That, if it dealt you a man with one flaw, it’s not exactly an injustice worthy of a Nuremberg trial, or even a petulant lyric, yes? That you could try, oh, telling him what works for you, or maybe learn the squeeze technique? I’m just sayin’. Love, Alanis.
[6]

Edward Okulicz: Not fair? Not funny either. Suppose a man, say, Mike Skinner, put out a song that went “My bird is rubbish at sucking dick and halfway through us doing it pretends to have a headache, man, that’s a load of pants”, what score would you give it? Okay, swap the genders, keep that score intact. Lily Allen’s misandrous moaning shoots for witty but sinks under obvious rhymes, labored lines and a delivery that alternates between bored, boring and “can you believe I just said that?”. Yes, we can, we were trying to avoid listening to the atrociously dinky country pastiche you were inflicting on the world.
[0]

Iain Mew: At least when staying clear of politics, Lily has kept the easy humour of most of her debut, losing a bit of cheeky instancy but gaining some more lasting musical depth. She also seems to have acquired a habit of switching between ‘you’ and ‘he’ at random in lyrics, for instance throwing you out of the story at an inopportune time in this otherwise gently pleasing space-country number.
[6]

Martin Kavka: Some people might think that the two-step rhythm here is more evidence that Lily Allen has no sense of what kind of artist she is, but country music has always been the backing for the most moving of women’s complaints. So what’s more suitable than a banjo and harmonica to accompany her moaning about her lover’s premature ejaculation? I really want Miranda Lambert to cover this.
[8]

Hillary Brown: Say what you will about Allen’s focus on lyrics and vocal melody over the underlying structure of a song, this one has both done super-nicely, with a jaunty C&W bounce that pairs hilariously with her comical tale of bad sex.
[8]

Martin Skidmore: This could very easily become a clumsy whine or stridently irritating, but it’s sweetly and nimbly done, with an infectious skipalong tune and the odd burst of twanging guitar (which reminded me of “Ghost Riders in the Sky”). Another huge hit, undoubtedly, and rightly so – it’s lovely, and she’s found an obvious major relationship issue for millions of people that no one, as far as I know, has sung about before. I may be wrong there, but that’s still an achievement.
[9]

Jonathan Bradley: One of Lily Allen’s favorite, and, let’s be blunt, cheapest production tricks is to take supposedly naff genres and recontextualize them as part of the contemporary pop sphere she occupies. Importantly, she never does so by fully engaging with these genres; like her dilettante tourist in “LDN,” her genre-exploration is undertaken with as minimal an engagement on her behalf as possible. So she transformed ska, as on her first couple singles, into a brain-dead exercise in syncopation and sunshine, and she turned polka rhythms into a nauseating just-say-no lecture on “Alfie.” Her new single has her appropriating country, showing even more disdain for the musical traditions of the genre than she has with her previous influences. Over a rinky-dink “Rawhide” rhythm — deployed for no purpose greater than irony for the sake of irony, or, as the rest of the world knows it, abject stupidity —she complains about a sexually unsatisfying boyfriend, ever-mindful of the supposed daring of her subject matter, like a one-woman Family Guy episode. The entire point of the instrumental here is to demonstrate that Allen can adopt a genre as unfashionable as country and remain removed from its supposed cultural uncouthness; she clearly has no interest in developing a compelling tune out of these ideas, so let’s forget her indefensible musical choices and focus on the lyrics. Allen’s lyric is an exercise in merciless solipsism, and one so determined that she even makes her self-obsession an object of her self-obsession. Immediately after complaining that she has to sleep in the post-coital wet-spot after unsatisfying sex, she acknowledges “all the nice things” that her boyfriend has done for her. This is no exercise in humility, however. As with her entire career, Allen’s selfishness is mentioned only as a device to focus further attention on her own person. I don’t know whether Lily the woman is lovely or revolting, but Lily the recorded personality is a deeply unpleasant character. Worst of all, she is so unsympathetic that it is impossible to derive any joy from her own self-regard whatsoever.
[0]

Dave Moore: I initially disliked the way she automatically assumes the guy is somehow intentionally bad in bed, but then I figured out how to read the chorus more charitably – “it’s not fair and I think you’re really mean” is a childish thing to say to a person, but it’s an interesting thing to say to God: “why do you send me nice guys who can’t get me off?” Lily’s God is a strange fellow, after all – listens to Creedence, drives a car (sorry Joan Osborne, no public transit), possibly without insurance. Kind of a jerk, really.
[7]

Hazel Robinson : So he’s the nicest bloke you’ve ever gone out with but you haven’t alerted him to the fact you’re not enjoying the bedroom encounters all that much so he must be really mean? Maybe I’m just not a very modern woman, but personally I might just say something to him, rather than making a cutesy-cutesy little song with ‘royalties cheque due from GIRLS NIGHT IN VOL. 45’ written all over it.
[3]

Ian Mathers: Well, Lily, if he doesn’t care in bed and is thus shit (and the song does present him as actively bad, not just fumbling or suffering from bad chemistry), then he doesn’t respect you, does he? It’s sad, you’d think someone in Allen’s position could afford to be more choosy rather than settling for someone who’s a nice guy out of bed and a selfish prick in it. Interesting enough topic for a song, but Allen’s delivery is a little pallid and the random country flourishes are just distracting – like its subject matter, “Not Fair” seems nice enough but is a bit crap.
[5]