t’s that time again. Or something. Taylor Hicks ain’t no Bob Seger, Razorlight gets in touch with their inner hippie, Beyonce and Jay-Z get back together in the studio, The Pipettes create perfect pop, Peaches teaches us once again (Hello Saferide administers the quiz), E-40 and Fall Out Boy fail to register on our reviewers radars, and apparently Regina Spektor’s on the radio? But first, Rascal Flatts tarnishes the memory of Baywatch.


Rascal Flatts - Life Is a Highway
[2.20]
Barry Schwartz: Blasphemy!
[1]

Edward Oculicz: Not even the first _country_ cover version of this song I've heard. Musically, this is pretty faithful, the guitar, the organ and everything sounds terrific, but the singer's ill-suited. Where's the half-whispered first verse? Where's the actual vaguely-discernable thrill in the voice in the chorus? The original's hardly a meaningful, difficult song (though I do love it), but this seems astonishingly sterile placed next to it.
[4]

Adem Ali: Was this really necessary? I can completely understand that this particular remake is being used as a theme of sorts for the new Pixar animation “Cars” because it’s about ‘driving’, ‘highways’ and other such road patrol nonsense, I honestly understand that. But surely there are a good hundred other songs about such things that could have been used instead of this one. Tom Cochrane was, at his best, particularly terrible, so why on bloody earth did they feel the need to remind people all over the world that he’s still with us by covering one of his pieces?
[1]

David Moore: Scoff if you must, but this song is going to be on Radio Disney constantly for at least six months, so some of us have to get good and used to it. I’ve made my peace.
[2]


Taylor Hicks - Do I Make You Proud
[2.33]
Andrew Unterberger: There’s yet to be a listenable first single from an American Idol winner (or finalist, really), and I think it’s entirely likely that there never will be. This still ranks miles above the execrable “Inside Your Heaven,” but considering how far below sea level that song resided, it’s not much of an accomplishment.
[3]

Joseph McCombs: I wish it weren’t a contractual obligation for AI winners to release as their first single a power ballad whose entire message is “thank you, TV, for validating my life.” This Lonestar leftover track validates little.
[2]

Hillary Brown: Apparently, you can mix the faux growl of George Thorogood with the inspirational mashed bananas of videos on PAX. It could be worse, I suppose.
[2]

Barry Schwartz: As a former member of the Yaminions with an occasional case of McPheever I’m still a little fucking pissed off Taylor Hicks (or as I like to call him, “Dad”) is the American Idol. That said, he’s really the only person on Earth who could perform a song of this magnitude—Mt. Olympus gospel choir, totally-didn’t-see-it-coming octave shift—with an earnestness that would make Michael Bolton blush. But honestly Taylor, what’s with this continuous need for the approval of others? The real question should be “Do You Make You Proud?” And only you can answer that.
[5]


Razorlight - In the Morning
[2.67]
Barry Schwartz: Gosh, I wish this song started with 34 seconds of just a boring drum track … oh good it does! Razorlight continue to be completely charmless and unnecessary and have still yet to capture their live energy on record.
[4]

Edward Oculicz: Franz Ferdinand have really let themselves go, haven't they?
[2]

Hillary Brown: Sounding as thin as I believe the band members themselves are doesn’t start things off right, and stealing doesn’t help. This song passes out of my head as quickly as it can. Put some real bass in there, dudes.
[3]

Fergal O’Reilly: Razorlight storm back to reclaim their crown of Kings Of Mediocre Haircut Indie Or Some Shit with a song that sounds rather strangely like “Me and Giuliani Down By The Schoolyard” as covered shambolically by half-asleep session musicians. This by itself would be quite endearing, if not the most exciting thing in the world, but accompanied by Johnny Borrell carefully replicating the Casablancas mode of failing to hit notes and complaining somewhat richly about Everyone Sounding The Same…it’s not so hot.
[2]


Hello Saferide - The Quiz
[4.50]
Doug Robertson: Sandi Thom reckons that the world was a bit better in the past, and she kinda has a point, if only because in the past Sandi Thom didn’t exist then. If Sandi Thom was a lot less irritating—yes, I know it’s hard to imagine, but work with me here—then she might have come up with something like this, a vaguely quirky piece of acoustic insecurity, the likes of which you can probably hear down at your local open mike night.
[6]

David Moore: Annika Norlin meticulously judges her new boyfriend’s record collection, DVD shelf, and clean bathroom, then quizzes him on her personality quirks. Her pet peeves include people who talk during Seinfeld and people who “get racist” when they’re drunk, whatever that means. She likes to compare IQs and disdains people who read less than two books a month (but kind of makes you wonder whether or not she reads three). Ugh, she’s like Marie Serneholt, but serious.
[3]

Joseph McCombs: More clever than any of Fiddy’s 21 questions, these hypotheticals for a paramour would have made for a perfect theme for Lisa Loeb’s #1 Single; seriously, Loeb hasn’t ventured anything this specific since, at best, “Do You Sleep?”
[7]

Adem Ali: This just makes me feel… bizarre. It sounds like Australian Missy Higgins morphing into Alanis Morrisette. Which summons the question of whether that is indeed a good thing, or a bad thing. To be honest, neither really. It just makes this a somewhat boring record that isn’t overly offensive to the ears, but grating enough to piss you off after a week or two of rotational radio play.
[4]


Jamie T - Sheila
[4.71]
Ian Mathers: Engaging, junkshop pop from a kid who sounds like the bastard offspring of ADF's Deeder and Tim Armstrong and makes mixtapes that find Operation Ivy shoved up against Big Youth, Toots and the Maytalls rubbing shoulders with Paul Weller. “Sheila” kind of feels like a one-hit wonder in the making, but it's no less enjoyable.
[7]

Jonathan Bradley: British lad culture is becoming nigh unbearable with its endless supply of regionally-accented rapping about life and stuff, but even though Jamie T fits nicely into this rap-not-rap niche alongside Goldie Lookin’ Chain and Lily Allen (she’s the girl version of lad culture, and that’s just as unpleasant), his tinny Casio lines and amateur spitting prevent him from being too irritating. Where likeminded Poms prattle on about lager and chavs as if their bullshit rhymes are the hottest thing to hit urban music since Wu-Tang, Jamie T takes the more ramshackle route of ‘90s slacker acts like Beck or Pavement. That is the beauty of lo-fi: why be upset that his vocals are below par when every other aspect of his musicianship is similarly slapdash?
[6]

Doug Robertson: Imagine a world where the Arctic Monkeys actually deserve the hype. Where they actually are an exciting and fresh musical force with wit and imagination and not just four lads with northern accents who’ve heard a couple of Oasis records. Well Jamie T isn’t quite that artist, but he’s certainly a damned sight more deserving of over excitable headlines than Alex Turner and friends. Rapping with a verve and freshness of spirit, Jamie has a growl to his voice that tells the world that he’s got something to say. Let’s just hope the world wants to listen.
[7]

Fergal O’Reilly: This has been a harrowing week: Razorlight, Lily Allen, and this? Do you just have to be from London and a complete fucking idiot to get a record deal these days or what? Examines a series of Less Than Cheery Gritty Working Class London tropes—drunk people, drug-dealers, domestic violence, overdoses etc.—of course, delivered in Jamie’s slang-heavy cockney geezer style, it all takes on a sort of BIZARRE, POIGNANT BEAUTY, doesn’t it?
[2]


E-40 ft. T-Pain - U and Dat
[5.00]
Barry Schwartz: If you decide to be a rapper is that synthline issued to you in the mail with samples of Tide? It’s so goddamn repetitive it may as well be called Kraut-rap. I expect better from a guy who, according to his Ghetto Report Card, got straight A’s in Tycoonin.’
[4]

Andrew Unterberger: Please, someone punch T-Pain in the throat, or at least steal his vocoder. His voice, disturbingly omnipresent in hip-hop radio these days, is right up there with Natalie Merchant and Aaron Lewis in terms of sheer unlistenability, and it has a King Midas in Reverse-like quality for the songs he guests on. Not that “U and Dat” was really worth saving in the first place.
[2]

Hillary Brown: Vocodered lines apparently have more staying power than initial impressions would have borne out. Hyper-simplicity pairs quite nicely with occasional bursts of choral harmony that focus on the booty, and it all wraps up tight and short.
[6]

Jonathan Bradley: It is disappointing that hyphy failed to be the next big thing in hip-hop, not because of the creative possibilities lost; after all, E-40’s singles so far have borne enough similarity to producer Lil Jon’s native genre of crunk that even if they had made a bigger impact it would not have been the mindfuck that was the national exposure of Houston’s rap scene. And with T-Pain’s vocoder vocals turning the already very southern track into a work that sits even easier amongst the established bounds of 2006 hip-hop, any hopes of the unique Bay area culture getting more play are rapidly diminishing. No, the biggest loss is the chance to be hearing 40 Water’s rickety flow and off-the-wall slang popping up everywhere. Let’s hope this generic banger is a hit so next time round we can get on to the good stuff like “Yay Area” or “Go Hard or Go Home.”
[6]


Fall Out Boy - A Little Less Sixteen Candles, a Little More Touch Me
[5.14]
Edward Oculicz: The song's not as good as its title. Kind of like a fair-to-middling Jimmy Eat World single as produced by The Matrix—perhaps a slowed-down "Sk8er Boi" in the riff. Also, the chorus is kind of flat, and without the sharp lyricism of "Sugar, We're Going Down," it's not particularly memory-resident. Loud and fast, probably a decent soundtrack to an ill-advised fumble in the dark.
[4]

Jonathan Bradley: On the strength of Fall Out Boy’s singles, one could be forgiven for thinking their album is non-stop mall-punk bliss from beginning to end, but sadly, the record does have its weak spots. This isn’t one of them, though. “A Little Less ‘Sixteen Candles’…” comes close to reaching pop nirvana in its attempt to cram a hook into every single line, a bid that is nearly successful. The singing is magnificent, with Patrick Stump shouting, “What are you waiting for, kiss her, kiss her!” with such exuberance that the nervous excitement of his urging is palpably real, while behind him the band turns in power-pop blasts equally effervescent.
[10]

Fergal O’Reilly: Haha, he pronounces “around” as “ar-oo-hend”! Amidst your standard mush of crunchy guitars, shit emo dude harmonies and predictable-four-days-in-advance dynamic shifts, that is the most entertaining thing that happens on this record by some margin.
[2]

Andrew Unterberger: Fall Out Boy go three for three in the “great single, not so great video” department with their cumbersomely titled but intriguingly abbreviated ALLSCALMTM. The formula from “Sugar” and “Dance” is still in effect—90s-style guitar riff, cleverly self-deprecating lyrics, aimlessly directed sexual frustration—but it’s an undeniably good formula. They’re the kind of band that makes me wish I could be ten and just getting into rock again, and I’m sure there’s a whole generation of kids who feel the same way about From Under the Cork Tree as I did about Smash and Dookie ten years ago.
[7]


Lily Allen - Smile
[5.33]
David Moore: I was reluctant to embrace Lily Allen until I realized I’m just terrified of strong women. Sunny lounge-ska revenge-pop that can induce headaches with over-exposure, just so you know she means business. Anyway, her idiot ex deserves whatever strength laxative Lily wants to dish out.
[7]

Fergal O’Reilly: “When you first left me I was wanting more, but you were fucking that girl next door, what d’you do that for?” Is this the worst opening line in history? The rest of them are a similar brand of rhyming dictionary nonsense, but that’s the one that really leaps out and punches you in the trachea with its awfulness. This isn’t to say that Lily’s voice isn’t quite pleasant, in a bland, middle-brow way, but it’s all basically too rudimentary to make me react with anything but an irritated “is this it?”
[3]

Jonathan Bradley: Enough! Oh, god, enough! Please can we quit the hype for this talentless, Paris Hilton-aping dullard? Everything about her is absolutely execrable, from her bored, smug voice intoning self-congratulatory drivel to the natty facsimile of reggae that passes for a tune. Tell this girl that British people were stealing Caribbean music before she was born, and the infliction of her pointless imitation is entirely unnecessary. Surely being a few years behind Atomic Kitten is a good indication of complete irrelevance?
[0]

Martin Skidmore: She genuinely does make me smile. Laid back reggae with sharp lyrics, very sweetly sung—it sounds so relaxed and sunny, even with the pointed words about a rotten ex. I can see this making her a very big mainstream star.
[9]


Infernal - Ten Miles
[6.00]
Joseph McCombs: And suddenly it was 1996 and my old friend from college had put this on a mixtape alongside Robert Miles and Donna Lewis and Everything But the Girl. And I liked it. Even though I couldn’t—and can’t—get around the bad rhymes and weak narrative. Perfectly pleasant, and I’ll forget I ever heard it when it comes up again in the form of some Cascada bullshit.
[5]

Martin Skidmore: I thought they'd try for another Eurodance stormer after the last one lingered in the charts so long, but this is a much more muted affair, which occasionally threatens to go big, but never does. It has quite nice trancey keyboards and SF noises, and a pleasant enough tune, but it completely lacks the dramatics and the huge hook.
[4]

Edward Oculicz: A slow, simple song, but with a pounding beat. The nearest comparison point I can think of is Kelly Osborne's "One Word"—that kind of relentless, hypnotic pound. A little bit robotic in the delivery, which is odd as there are lots of humanising tics in the music and warmer production touches that add sympathy where there might otherwise have been none. Catchy and accomplished, but misses the emotional target it aims for.
[7]

Doug Robertson: And it was all going so well as well. With “From Paris to Berlin” tearing up dancefloors all the way from, umm, Paris to Berlin, it seemed Infernal could do no wrong. They had the fab dancey-pop world in the palm of their hand and only releasing a lack-lustre bit of by the numbers emoto-dance which is not only ten miles from you, but two continents away from any sort of originality or memorable tune could thwart their seemingly unstoppable rise.
[4]


Regina Spektor - On the Radio
[6.33]
Martin Skidmore: The voice reminds me a little of Marit Larsen, which is a good thing, but rather overstates how good this is. I do like it, though—some pretty vocal moments (and some annoying ones on the title line: "radio-o-o"), restrained synthy string stabs and piano backing, a nice tune here and there. It's not quite willing to go the whole hog and be a pop song, though. It wants to be alternative and strange, almost a touch Laurie Anderson.
[7]

Andrew Unterberger: Against all odds, “Us” was one of my favorite songs of last year—female singer/songwriters with heavy doses of piano and preciousness usually isn’t a recipe for success in my book, but something about her lyrics and vocal inflections I found totally irresistible. “On the Radio” is a worthwhile follow-up, sloppier and less majestic than “Us” (less like Vanessa Carlton, in other words) but just as charming—if nothing else, the song spends about a verse total talking about hearing Guns n Roses’ underappreciated “November Rain” in the title format. Good call, Regina.
[7]

Ian Mathers: If the complete lack of official Nellie McKay albums this year has got you down and you want a similarly quirky, obviously massively talented young singer-songwriter to listen to instead, you could do a lot worse than Regina Spektor's new single. To her credit, the Guns and Roses reference feels sincere, not ironic, but for every good line there's a couplet like “A million ancient bees / Began to sting our knees.” I do miss McKay, but I think my whimsy threshold is a little low this year.
[5]

Doug Robertson: Proving that maths doesn’t work at all, here comes Regina Spektor. All the elements here should add up to give an answer roughly equivalent to “Unremittingly awful, listened to only by hipsters who don’t actually like music,” but instead we end up with a prettily laid back track which makes me wish I was lying on my back in a park, looking up at the sun and thinking wistful thoughts.
[7]


Justice vs. Simian - We Are Your Friends
[6.50]
Joseph McCombs: You know, it really does this song injustice to call it “We Are Your Friends.” It’s more properly called “WE! ARE! YOUR! FRIENDS!” And from the fevered, yelping gasps that follow, I guess by “friends” we mean “people we will willingly drown with.” Which somehow is a recommendation; the devotion of the unhinged is not to be taken lightly.
[7]

Andrew Unterberger: I have absolutely no idea what form the original version of this song took, but I assume it must be some sort of remix (as implied by the still-cool-and-confrontational-sounding “Vs.” in the artist title). It’s pretty wonderful regardless—a sparkling Felix da Housecat-type production, except pushed from ’82 to ’86 and (luckily) a shade more Glamour than Glitz. Shiny stuff.
[8]

Hillary Brown: Bearable dance music deserves recognition, and this is more than that. Just put something adorable in the video, and you’ve got a hit for weeks.
[5]

Fergal O’Reilly: A turd-polishing of the highest order on Justice’s part, rescuing that singular vocal line (“WE! ARE! YOUR FRIENDS! YOU’LL! NEVER BE ALONE AGAIN!”) from farty obscurity and turning it into a continent crushing electro-house monster. It ought really to be the most annoyingly relentless thing in the world, but it somehow manages to be both exhilarating and vaguely terrifying.
[9]


Peaches - Downtown
[6.80]
Doug Robertson: So, what’s in the latest lesson from the teaches of Peaches? Something ever so slightly rude, no doubt. Petula Clark this ain’t, but on a purely musical level, this isn’t as down and dirty as Peaches normally goes, indeed, there’s more than a touch of Goldfrapp here, albeit a Goldfrapp if Alison decided to actually stamp some sort of personality on her music, rather than treating it with the clinical distance of someone whose job involves dealing with urine samples. Which is a somewhat unpleasant way of saying that this is really rather good indeed. Hooray!
[8]

David Moore: Peaches always sounds cool, much cooler than me. That makes me resent her a little and this song isn’t interesting enough to compensate—dance music to fold your arms to. If she doesn’t care, why should I?
[4]

Joseph McCombs: Come wif me? Show you my fing? Her electroblips are sexy, her diction is not. But I admire her ability to stay “on message,” as it were, and now that repeat listens at odd hours have made me lose control, I’d be willing to have a coffee and pastry with her uptown after she’s done at the Wailing Wall.
[8]

Adem Ali: It’s bloody nice to see Peaches returning back to fine form, and while this is not as instant (or as dirty) as any of her past efforts like “Fuck the Pain Away” or the Iggy Pop duet “Kick It,” anything that sounds like Prince’s “Kiss,” is absolutely A-OK in my book.
[7]


Marie Serneholt - I Need a House
[7.00]
David Moore: Marie Serneholt isn’t really a material girl; life’s great mysteries have driven her mad, and instead of continuing to find truth, beauty, etc., she opts instead for a coffee and a kitchen sink. If the music’s a little vacuous, well, that’s kind of what the song is about.
[9]

Ian Mathers: When she says she needs a bed, it's not a come on; this is a song about growing up and realizing that suddenly you have to do this shit on your own, that nobody else is going to provide for you if you don't do it yourself. That Serneholt no longer reminds me of Jessica Simpson (she still looks a little vapid, but no longer sounds that way) and that “I Need a House” boasts a fantastic chorus merely moves it from laudable to poptastic. This is the kind of slightly off-kilter topic combined with polished tunage that ABBA used to specialize in, fittingly enough.
[8]

Andrew Unterberger: Regrettably, not a song detailing Marie’s travails in the trying pursuit of obtaining real estate, but rather an over-produced number about her metaphoric need to feel anchored. Like Natasha Bedingfield’s recent singles, “House” is decidedly above-average for a rock/pop song—slightly more intelligent, slightly catchier and slightly less mind-numbing—yet ultimately unsatisfying, and not worth changing the channel in the hopes of finding some TI song on another station.
[5]

Adem Ali: Marie, Marie, Marie. What are you doing releasing this over the ace “Enjoy the Ride”? Not to say that this isn’t a really good song either, the chorus is instantly catchy and the musical structure of the verses remind me a tiny bit of The Motels’ “Total Control.” But these lyrics… singing about needing a house, a home, and a bed to sleep in…certainly makes Madonna’s rhyming of the words “New York” and “Dork” seem a little bit less silly than it used to be, doesn’t it?
[7]


Beyonce ft. Jay-Z - Deja Vu
[7.50]
Jonathan Bradley: This is no “Crazy In Love,” even though it desperately wants to be. It is too mercenary in its attempt to sweep listeners off their feet the way its predecessor did. Nevertheless, “Déjà Vu” is magnificent. Whether it’s the sheer thrill of hearing Beyoncé and Hov back on a track together or the adept execution of the summer smash formula, the track is so much fun, so well-crafted, so destined to insert itself into everyday life for the next few months, and…yet… it is so not “Crazy In Love.”
[9]

Martin Skidmore: It starts with Beyonce saying "bass" in a way that reminded me very much of Justin Timberlake's great "drums" moment. I thought Jay-Z had retired, but maybe guest appearances are allowed, especially with her, and he sounds as slick and fine as ever here. Beyonce sounds particularly lively on this, and it has plenty of dancey energy and strength. The chorus is maybe a touch short on hookiness for this to be a real classic, and I don't think they are using the title phrase in any sense that I recognize, but it is very good.
[8]

Edward Oculicz: Oh look, Beyonce thinks she's Neneh Cherry in the intro. Fortunately, there's another terrific sample here, and Jay-Z has the sense to get out of the way of it, realizing that he's just a supporting player and not the attraction. Elsewhere, Beyonce actually sounds like she's having a terrific time.
[8]

Barry Schwartz: Nobody … before or since … in the entire history of time and space … has been able to make a song as good as “Crazy in Love,” so it’s hardly reasonable to expect something better. “Déjà Vu” isn’t better, but it still makes girls dance who really oughtn’t be dancing; and that’s what I’ve come to understand summer is all about.
[7]


The Pipettes - Pull Shapes
[8.71]
Doug Robertson: Retro-modern polka-dotted girl-pop aceness in excelsis! It can only be The Pipettes, quite possibly the single greatest group to be formed since the less than organic creation of Girls Aloud all those years ago, and they’ve managed to distil pure euphoria into a three minute pop song of such perfection that even the Pope is considering suggesting that we all start worshipping it instead of this whole ‘God’ lark. Anyone planning on collating a list of the best singles of the year might as well stop now; we already have a winner. Well, until their next single, that is.
[10]

Barry Schwartz: They hit me and it felt like a kiss: “Pull Shapes” manages to both capture and subvert the essence of girl-group pop’s charm with the most sincere of winks. Simulacrum at its very finest!
[8]

Martin Skidmore: I approve of anyone who wants to sound like Spector girl groups, and this has a good try: rock instruments, electric organ, strings and all, plus the girls singing quite strongly. They still sound a little lo-fi, a little too amateurish to pull it off (I imagine this is part of their appeal for many, but it seems a defect to me), but I am warming to them.
[6]

Ian Mathers: Long experience on the Singles Jukebox Chain Gang tells me that at least some of my esteemed column are probably not going to like “Pull Shapes.” They are, and I do not say this lightly, verging on insane: those strings! The awesomely inane lyrics (yes, Virginia, sometimes the best pop is about nothing)! Starting with the chorus! Ending with a bang! The sooner you stop resisting people, the more fun we can have.
[10]


Check out the Singles Jukebox podcast to hear some of the tracks talked about here.