“Come on be my baby” is on the same lo-cal, lo-lust diet. The frankness and emptiness of his appraisal of her body and their sex is not going to light any fires in amorous listeners, and the oh-I chorus is dressing for the job it wants as a club banger rather than the job it has, as a weird, passionless chant. That said, “your love was handmade/for someone like me” clunks so profoundly I’m elbowed out of the song. I also like that his earnest In Love™ brand, prefect for undanceable songs at a wedding reception, is side-stepped for a mildly saucy pick-up narrative. His voice is fine he sings solidly and a little plainly, rather than yanking that tortured scratchy indie boy voice up and down the register, which makes his false duet in the pre-chorus stand out more. Lilly Gray: This is an inoffensive “let’s fuck” song if there ever was one, but of the two Sheeranisms on offer today I prefer this version. Ramzi Awn: I’m not sure what this is, which is usually a good thing, but I do know that I don’t need to hear about Ed Sheeran’s bedsheets. There’s just a kind of spitty mumble stumbling over a rudimentary beat - and not rudimentary in a four-on-the-floor sense. Pharrell WilliamsĮlisabeth Sanders: The fact that this is a decent-ish bop at its core can in no way outweigh the total, full-body revulsion I feel when hearing Ed Sheeran - a still-damp bridge troll who seems to have made some kind of unholy deal with a dark force (Taylor Swift?) for fame - say “that body on me.” I’d write more but I have to go boil myself.Īnthony Easton: I cannot get my mind around Sheeran as a sexual being, and this sung-spoken ode to fucking is the least erotic, mostly because it does not move substantially. Donnie Trumpet & the Social Experiment.
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