The Singles Jukebox

First Sabrina, now Shawn… we just need one more a triple-repeated title song to get a trend piece going…

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[4.40]

Iain Mew: Shawn aims soft and tries to bring out the anguish and cyclical hopelessness in small moments. The musical stomp has other ideas, stomping out subtlety without bringing anything worth replacing it with. The resultant sense of aimless momentum leaves it sounding like a festival EDM track with all of its drops missing.
[3]

Jeffrey Brister: On the one hand, it is a dated stomp-clap folk single with gang vocals and a hefty dollop reverb in the chorus; with nary a strummed guitar figure or slide flourish or mandolin accent out of place. On the other hand, this sounds really REALLY good. The worst thing I could say about this song is that it’s unmemorable, and it will fade into the swirling morass of competent-if-not-incredible folk songs that sit at the bottom of my mind, and will eventually get it confused with something else years later. But in this moment? Hey, pretty good.
[6]

Nortey Dowuona: Mike Sabath can apparently work magic. I mean, he can lay down some firm, surprisingly sturdy but unambitious drums that allow Chris Thile on mandolin, Kevin Barry on lap steel guitar, Eddie Barry on guitar, Shawn himself on guitar with Scott Harris on background vocals to fill up the mix with all the angst and unalloyed joy that come with finding one’s footing after years of grasping around in the dark for your parents to protect you, for your lover to return to you, for the small, imaginary bundle who you’re convinced is crying out for you to hold them. Then you remember they’re not imaginary. You wonder why you thought that. Then you get up and hold your infant son until you fall asleep instead. Mike then has to worry about maybe lowering the bass to let the lap steel sound better but makes sure to not disturb you or the baby.
[8]

Michael Hong: The comparisons to Man of the Woods have been unavoidable, but “Isn’t That Enough” sounds closer to the alt-country of Waxahatchee than anything by Justin Timberlake. Pleasant enough if a bit repetitive, but as “Why Why Why” attempts to kick up the dust into something anthemic, it sounds more like a deflated version of Avicii’s “Wake Me Up.” 
[3]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: A perfect choice for listeners who found Benson Boone and Noah Kahan to be too aggressive.
[2]

Grace Robins-Somerville: Sexless Ed Sheeran-ass Zoloft-ass fake deep pop music.
[2]

Ian Mathers: Is it weird that this feels post-Iron & Wine to me? Something to do with the guitar tone and how it and the vocals are layered. It’s pleasant enough, and the idea of post-teen pop Sam Beam makes me smile. Congratulations, you’ve justified your existence for another day!
[6]

Taylor Alatorre: An emulsified soup of folky signifiers, “Why Why Why” achieves pathos of a sort — not from the feelings described within it, but from the singer’s need to transmute those feelings into rustic coffeehouse wallpaper. The once and future teen idol is mandated after a certain age to reveal more of himself, his true self, but only within well-defined limits: no to Big Star’s Third, yes to “Garden Party.” Or “Story of My Life,” if we’re being realistic here. The big reveal of “Why Why Why,” that of deferred fatherhood, is given its requisite four bars in the limelight, then is quickly blotted out by the oncoming rush of billowy acoustic chords and twangy guitar stabs. This may be for the better, given Mendes’s earnest belief in the mind-blowing lyrical power of the father-mother juxtaposition. Best to let the sound engineers do the real talking here; that coiled spring of rapid-fire strumming that sews up the aforementioned verse has replay value of its own.
[5]

Jonathan Bradley: The best thing about this fibrous Shawn Mendes strum is how it inadvertently demonstrates the talent someone like Ed Sheeran or Noah Kahan has. They could make “Why Why Why,” and a lot of time they functionally do. And that would sell, and people who want earnest and modestly rousing folk songs, which are a perfectly reasonable thing to want — 12 years later, I’m still willing to defend “Ho Hey” — would be pleased to cue it up on their playlists. But it takes skill to create an “A Team” or a “Stick Season,” the versions of this sound that involve more craft and finesse than necessary. I don’t think Mendes is capable of elevating his compositions to that level, but hey, at least he’s capable of not sinking them to Lewis Capaldi depths.
[4]

Katherine St. Asaph: Javiera Mena isn’t supposed to sound like the Lumineers, but Shawn Mendes isn’t not. The sound of basking blissfully in low expectations.
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