Tim: Alex here, singing about Your Shoes, or, rather, the fact that no-one can fill them. How sweet.
Tom: Good heavens, who picked those brass synth pads? They sound like a MIDI keyboard from the 90s. They could afford a choir, but they couldn’t afford an actual trumpet?
Tim: Oh, hush. We’ve almost two songs in one, here – the standard and fairly unremarkable verses, which fortunately make up a comparatively small amount of time, and then OH that GLORIOUS brassy chorus.
Tom: It is a wonderful, schlagery chorus, isn’t it? Full-on, hands-waving-back-and-forth, entirely predictable chord progressions. Not a complaint, that.
Tim: Oh, no – and during the middle of the final three choruses I actually did find myself waving my arms in the air. It’s a jubilant sound, which is somewhat bizarre given the lyrics: basic narrative is that she left him because he was a dick; he’s now saying that he’s getting off with new girls left right and centre, but none of them are quite as good so can she come back. TRIUMPHANT BRASS!
Tom: Amazing. I wonder if there’s anyone in the world that would work on?
Tim: I’ve been trying to think, to make a snarky comment, but nope, I’ve got nothing. To be honest, though, I don’t care that the sound doesn’t fit, because it’s bloody wonderful to listen to, and really just over all too quickly.
Tom: Just… maybe they should hire an actual brass section.