Aftonbladet, Sweden **** (out of 5)

Expressen, Sweden **** (out of 5)

Tower Records, UK *** (out of 5)

GESSLE, or "Gristle" to his mates, is the male half of Roxette. Whilst Marie is away doing baby duties, her professional other half has been pop packaging The World According To Gessle. The sun has got its party hat on; it's Europop meets the Sweet and Bon Jovi sucking on a sherbet dip. Unhealthy but fun.

Music Express, Germany **** (out of 6)

How about quoting Lester Bangs for a change? He once wrote, the Eagles could sing a song about nuns having an sex-orgy and it would sound as if angels were rejoicing. Mister Roxette also has this gift: 'The World According To Gessle' is not just clean, it's absolutely pure. The male part of the swedish pop-duo hovers over his first real solo-album - the two first ones were only taken note of by the Scandinavians - on a pink 'boy meets girl and the beat goes on, but not farther than the pre-chorus-cloud. Rather 'Yummy Yummy Yummy'-Bubblegum than "Gabba Gabba Hey'-Rock, no matter how loud the electric guitars wail and the drums hit. Per Gessle fills his candy-colored Jukebox with all sorts of known ingredients, or, said in a less friendly manner: He steals himself through four decades of pop, that the beams break. Luckily he just shakes catchy pop-records out of his sleeve in rows: Sometimes it sounds like the Monkees come from the Mersey River ('Do You Wanna Be My Baby?), sometimes like Elvis Costello, who mixed up the pair of intellectual-glasses with the Ray-Ban ('Reporter'), sometimes like Abba on Speed ('Elvis In Germany'), like surfing at Skagerak ('B-Any-1-U-Wanna-B') and then as if the little sanso sheep was making a wight (?) of it with Status Quo ('Saturday'). 'I Want You To Know' is a joss-stick-ballad with psychedelic reverbation, 'Wish You The Best' a furry hypocrite, for 'I'll Be Alright' would every ten-year-old give away his favorite blanket and for 'Lay Down Your Arms' Phil Collins would even sell his grandmother.
Translated by Steffen Foellmer. Revised by Elektroniska Tider.

BEAT Magazine, Norway ***** (out of 6)

Those who have not figured out that Per Gessle is a genius can right away jump in a bucket full of shit. The Swede with those hopeless hairstyles have a pop-sensibility that belongs on the top, together with people like Chinn & Chapman, Mickie Most and Neil Innes. Every damned song he sings and produces is so full of hook-lines (and sinker) that one would believe that he has sold his soul to the devil. If you are that kind of type that likes "classical music" based on real melodies you are going to get erection from this "box of candies" that Per "Smartass" Gessle delivers here. Every one of these 13 songs dances around most of the other songs on the top of charts at the time, and his obvious love for pop music is so charming that you can just raise your arms and say: He has done it again!
I get down on my knees and I know that Gessle and I have the exact same record collection (even if I only have one Doris Day album). Poppin' all over the world!

Q Magazine, UK **** (out of 5)

The other half of Roxette's first English-language solo album is a buzzing pop guitar record that offers everything from The Kinks and The Cars to Blondie and The Beatles. Reporter and Stupid is powerpop with the emphasis on nuclear rock war, Kix is the kind of record that Roxette used to make, only more likely to lay its hook-ridden eggs under your skin, B-Any-1-U-Wanna-B is the worst-titled Brian Wilson tribute ever, while Elvis in Germany could, if allowed, be the most annoying oompah Britpop single ever released (although odds-on the hit will be the powerballad I'll Be Alright with Roxette's Marie Fredriksson on backing vocals). This album is worth buying a car for, just so you can listen to it while going fast.
Thanx to Chatan Mistry.