Giddy up!

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[6.67]

Alex Clifton: I was hooked from the opening lines: “you’re gonna say that I’m on a high horse/I think that my horse is regular-sized.” This is a song that doesn’t take itself too seriously, that wants you to have fun with it and let your hair down as you dance around. It’s not that the whole thing is played as a joke, but it’s got feeling and irreverence wrapped up in a fun little package.
[7]

Lauren Gilbert: One of MUNA’s best ever opening lyrics, followed by a song that sounds a little too much like an “About U” b-side to reach the heights of “Silk Chiffon”. But I’m still a gay with mental health issues, so basically anything Katie Gavin writes is still a [7] for me.
[7]

Vikram Joseph: It might be too early to call it, but this MUNA era feels different: it’s not that they ever lacked confidence, but there’s a lightness and irreverence to the two singles that seems to signal a departure from the high angst of About U and the often lacerating Saves The World. Like “Silk Chiffon”, this is frothy and addictive, although it’s certainly a weightier song thematically. “Anything But Me” deals with a situation they would previously have reported from the other party’s perspective – trying to navigate the brave new landscape of being friends with someone you’re not seeing any more but have unresolved feelings for (“it’s all love and it’s no regrets”, except there’s almost always some of the latter lying around). But here it’s MUNA adopting a position of relative power, reminding their ex why they broke up in the first place and making sure they know where the boundaries lie in their changed dynamic. The frisky beat, pulsing bass and offhand jokes about regular-sized horses make it sound like they’re entirely comfortable with it – maybe it’s a facade, but it’s convincing.
[8]

Will Adams: The intentional clunkiness of “my horse is regular-size” is a bit too self-consciously nudge-nudge and, like the CVS line in “Silk Chiffon,” briefly takes me out of the song. But that’s only a minor distraction; “Anything But Me” is MUNA in classic form. There’s Naomi McPherson’s rollicking production — dazzling synth-pop glitter anchored by giant drums and pulsing bass — Josette Maskin’s guitar riffs ripping through like lightning, and Katie Gavin’s ever-present resolve to put herself first.
[7]

Ady Thapliyal: I’m going to say that MUNA is on a high horse, and I wish the length of their metaphors was regular-sized. They’re stuck on a dud simile, going in circles on a carousel ride. 
[2]

Leah Isobel: As always with MUNA, this is comfort food for the suburban gay soul. Synths arpeggiate to evoke throbbing, unresolved feeling; guitars soar, suggesting windswept landscapes perfect for dramatic emoting; drums thwack precisely on 2 and 4. Katie’s lyrics are just wordy enough to imply complexity but sharp enough to fit cleanly into a pop structure — clock the sneaky internal rhyme that opens the song, corralling an unruly sentiment back in line. None of this is new for them, but I can’t say this is the first time they’ve produced something formulaic. I can’t even say that their formula is bad. But I can say that the bridge shortcuts past a completely different song that could have been written, one that could be thornier, angrier, more personal and more interesting.
[7]

Alfred Soto: A self-assured example of self-loathing, “Anything But Me” uses loud drums and retro-nuevo synths without self-consciousness. Angst as muse.
[7]

Ian Mathers: I’m very behind, but I’m slowly picking my way through the mid-’80s in Tom Breihan’s The Number Ones column Now that I’m hitting years where I was actually alive, it’s been making me think a lot about the music that was around when I was a kid. Something I think Breihan does well is show how the middle of the mainstream eventually figures out how to assimilate and repurpose the technology and techniques that crop up elsewhere. Like, the actual synthpop of the time was often besotted by all the new ways you could make songs (and I obviously love that stuff at lot), but at its best, the way some major hits took techniques from there and grafted it onto sturdy, proven pop/AOR/AC/whatever structures could be pretty fascinating (and satisfying) too. There’s something about the construction of and playing on “Anything But Me” that puts me in the mind of those songs. (Of course time and history being what they are, the result is much less squarely middle of the road than it was in ’85, but what “Anything But Me” suggests is… maybe it should be?) And then tonally/emotionally it’s much more akin to something like “Call Your Girlfriend” in terms of being a pop song about… compassion but boundaries, I guess? I’ve finally gotten old enough to hear something that sounds like a lot of stuff I loved as a kid without the significant emotional/lyrical flaws of much of it, and I’ve gotta admit it feels like I’m a pretty easy mark for that.
[9]

Andrew Karpan: I like the way that some of my favorite MUNA songs come in the form of these aggressive second-person monologues, flexing their pain like muscles, dripping with spite. The last one was the band’s self-care album closer, the elegant “It’s Gonna Be Okay, Baby,” an MFA-style lyrical essay addressed to their younger selves. This take on the form feels more like a manifesto; the minimal synth pads give the band’s righteous beating the sonorousness of a march to the East River on a cold winter night. It may just be a bad breakup, but that’s no reason not to cry.
[6]