The Singles Jukebox

And yep, that early video of his has been scrubbed. Did anyone download it?

[Video][Website]
[4.46]

W.B. Swygart: The song jogs on the spot for a bit and then it goes away. At its heart, a sentiment that Sam contemplates for a second before the toast pops out. He’s a grand voice but a wooden actor; there are other, better ways to tell this tale.
[5]

Josh Langhoff: Sam Smith says some rockist b.s., most of which you can guess, about “being honest” and singing from his soul, as though I care how hard he squints when the studio mic picks up the sonic transmissions of his vocal folds. But I’m most struck by this: “I think the world needs imperfection.” I mean, I think so too! Not that we have any choice! But Smith’s a hypocrite, because “Stay With Me” sounds hamstrung by Getting Everything Right — the nuances of his performance, the fealty to some Platonic form of “soul,” even the determination to screw up this particular relationship as little as possible. I’ll give him this: he sells the idea that he’s bad at one night stands.
[3]

Scott Mildenhall: Precisely zero innovation, but as expertly executed as any other aspect of the Sam Smith Success Certainty (go with it) so far. Given how those things often go, and how this one has already gone, this could easily have ended up outweighed by inert hubris, but thankfully it stays well the right side of bludgeoning you round the head with a …But Seriously CD booklet. Smith’s ever-malleable voice is one moment gentle, that of his vulnerabilities verbalised, then his own violently harrowed gospel choir of unarticulated pain. Probably as good for all-out wallowing as half-listening to, and that’s a potent mix.
[7]

Alfred Soto: His Barry Gibb-level hysteria effective on the Disclosure collaboration “Latch,” it’s a menace now, whether leading the choir of frightened men and women through insincerity or sobbing solo through a moist Kleenex.
[2]

Juana Giaimo: With each new Sam Smith song we will keep on realizing that he’ll never again be as exciting as “Latch.”
[5]

Daniel Montesinos-Donaghy: As a listener, I’m unsure what I want from Sam Smith. Is it the obsessive pulse he brings to “Latch,” the hooky anonymity of “La La La” or the eye-rolling bonafides of “Money On My Mind”? With the industry definitely in his corner, he’s en route to stardom but without a character quirk beyond occasional squeakiness. Smith is aiming for reliability and versatility with his appearances, but he’d do good to lock down an on-record identity. “Stay With Me” offers up don’t-go pleads, and it’s the best look for him so far: his squall wavers without distracting, finding a reasonable place where he can take his performances. The overproduction is both gloopy (that loud-ass choir!) and great (those weepy-ass strings!); the briskness of the affair helps Smith make an impact — he’s onto something. More like this, please.
[6]

Anthony Easton: Will Young’s lachrymose Anglo pop wetness mixed in with Mumfordesque choruses makes this the most earnest, and the most cynically calculated chart grab in the last few years — but technically it’s quite good. Extra point for how he sings “darling.”
[7]

Thomas Inskeep: I don’t get the hype around this kid. Rick Astley had a better voice — and better songs. PS White people, especially white Brits, should not sing gospel. Or gospel-ish material. Ever.
[3]

Patrick St. Michel: Like that one scene from Say Anything, except John Cusack rented out a choir to win over someone he made out with on a couch for like ten minutes.
[2]

Jer Fairall: Tom Petty’s “I Won’t Back Down” played at half speed to accommodate some drama queen-y dolor about post-hookup loneliness. A topic wholly worthy of exploration in pop-song form, but Smith’s strained “soulfulness” does it few favours.
[5]

Will Adams: Picking up where “Money On My Mind” left off, “Stay With Me” offers more of the same: predictable and “authentic” soul sound, exactly the type expected of him, with Smith bleating out enough soggy emotion to cover up the questionable lyrical content. Then, it was not worrying about the money money money. Now, it’s a narrator so clingy after a one night stand that his pleas come off more as emotional manipulation than an endearing call for love. But it’s wrapped up in gospel choirs and live drums, so it’s got to be good, right? The sanitization of Sam Smith continues apace.
[2]

Brad Shoup: The quiet lope of the hi-hat/tambourine combo sets this as a glum update of the Hi Records backbeat; the backing vocals are kinda indie-inspiro, but also a pan-pipe analogue. (There’s also a cold edge to their treatment, a soft desperation.) Smith’s out before he wrecks this with a bridge — everyone does the minimum, and the result is a compact soul-gospel gem.
[8]

Katherine St Asaph: Lisa Loeb by Emeli Sande.
[3]