Carly Rae Jepsen Makes Herself Easy To Like

Carly Rae Jepsen's back in action. For those out there who felt like poking your eyes out with the business end of a pool cue after hearing "Call Me Maybe" for the millionth time a few years ago I'll give you a five-Mississippi head start at running to somewhere where you're not likely to hear her new "I Really Like You" played beyond anyone's caring or feigning the sentiment. She's got the cuteness factor going for her. That's how "Call Me Maybe" shot to #1. Cute chorus, cute orchestra sophisticated embellishments. She epitomized the girl next door who you'd be happy to give a cup of sugar to. She was so of the moment that no less a celebrity luminary than Sesame Street's poster muppet for questionable eating habits Cookie Monster was featured in "Share It Maybe" a tribute to sharing your cookies when asked to do so. What would Sally Field think of the "I really like you" connection played to the hilt? We should surrender the upper half of the charts to Carly now. She's one confection you'll have to gobble whole because pop radio programmers are going to be all over this like ugly on an ape, as my mother would say. Long ago we had to have learned that fluff moves units. I confess it's a nice contrast to Hozier's dirge like but artistically flooring "Take Me To Church". Not to worry if you're a shopaholic who doesn't have plans to haul ass to a twelve, fifteen, or twenty step program. "I Really Like You" promises to fit right in with the many samples of perfume, shoes, button down shirts, sporting goods, yogurt, and pretty much any other consumer item you'll come in contact with at the mall. User friendly, thy last name is Jepsen. My mom wondered earlier today what Tom Hanks had to do with anything about the song. At the surface not much. Probably the powers that be in media marketing thought how cute would it be to have Tom Hanks lip syncing Carly Rae Jepsen. Nobody's going to cry out for censorship. The ploy doesn't rise any higher than a G rating. The same could be said for the song itself. We've got cotton fluffy ear yummy on our earlobes. It's adorable (?) since Tom's old enough to be Carly's father. Hilarity ensues. To be fair Tom's about an upstanding Joe as the planet ever spawned so I don't begrudge him this bout of silliness. Pop is at its core accessible. Does it matter that "I Really Like You" boils down to big toothy grins wrapped up, tied together with a pink bow, and set into the stratosphere on the erase proof image of millions of puppy dog eyes? You better believe it doesn't. At the music world's refreshment stand "I Really Like You" stands shoulder to shoulder with other soda pop caffeine drinks that were meant to be slammed down in agreeably fast manner so you could get back to whatever your life happened to be comprised of at the time. The man she's with sounds like a tease. "You like making me wait for it," she protests. She dances around the whole love conundrum herself. She's caught in her head. She wants to get in his head. She ponders how they got to late nihht watching television dangling on passion's precarious ledge. Whenever there's decision making afoot Carly plunges right back into the saccharine heightened chorus. That's not a dig by any stretch. Theater's cornerstone happens to be building up anticipation. Carly freakin' Simon devoted a whole song to anticipation. The nubile Carly of 2015 read the textbook thoroughly and smartly figured out where to build up curiosity. Temptress yes but not a disrespectful one. "I Really Like You" ought to be tolerated if nothing else. At best it's worthy of getting a super sized hug. Mom and Dad won't balk at their darlings blasting this immaculate charm magnet at top volume.