If you like [insert British electro singer songwriter type], then there’s also this!
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[7.50]
Brad Shoup: A classic example of CW rock: punchy, a little skittish, and British. Is the singer in erotic throes? Physically repulsed? Super sardonic? Figure it out before Alex Patsavas does!
[8]
Katherine St Asaph: What is wrong with songwriters? Two-thirds of this is fantastic, vocalist Sarah Mcintosh going furious over what sounds like the “Running Up That Hill” beat re-scored for ninjas, then comes a rinky-dinky major-key plink of a chorus that aims for Robyn but ends up as a throaty Diana Vickers. This trick has been called “the soar,” but it torpedoes “Skeleton” and its premise. The verses are sexy. They have passion. The chorus is as sexy as somebody stripping down to reveal Terry Richardson’s decrepit, cheesecake-posed cadaver.
[6]
Edward Okulicz: “Skeleton” makes a great listen if you admire La Roux’s energy but can’t abide by the screeching, or if you wish Ellie Goulding put out something a bit more full-blooded. The chorus in particular sounds like Goulding, conversely the verses seethe with tension and pace, courtesy of some powerful drumming. Sarah Mcintosh has a feisty sneer that drips sex, too.
[8]
Ian Mathers: “Skeleton” is a briskly efficient little piece of dance pop, but as seems to be the case with me these days, what I really like are the lyrics. Pop has plenty of “ooh, look at me, I’m all naked and ready to make the sex with you, which you want because I am very sexy” songs, and plenty of “I really like you and therefore I am going to present myself to you without pause or artiface, and hopefully you will like me too” songs (although admittedly probably more of the former than the latter), but that bifurcation is a fiction. In real life the two feelings/situations combine and collide all the time, and “Skeleton” collapses the language used in both modes; eventually “I’m taking it all off for you” muddles the come-on and the moment of terrible vulnerability until you can’t tell which is which. “Skeleton” is about sex, but not just sex in a way that’s both rare and appealing (because for most of us, it’s never “just” sex in real life either).
[8]
Iain Mew: I slightly miss the more electronic sounds of her earlier material, but she’s done a great job of producing an even more direct take on the Ellie Goulding/Diana Vickers school of peppy alt-pop songs about horrific metaphorical violence and/or sex. The sneering manner in which she draws out the notes at the end of each line of the verses is a real delight, and the way in which she sounds completely in control despite on the surface presenting her total vulnerability is really compelling in a different way to either of the above, who both sounded more confused and conflicted. “Skeleton” isn’t without its conflicts but mostly sounds like one long defiant (and catchy!) taunt.
[8]
Alex Ostroff: Sarah McIntosh splits the difference between Ellie Goulding and Elly Jackson, with the unnecessary addition of Kate Nash’s glottal stops, which is one strike against The Good Natured. The guitar atmospherics under the opening verse are blandly angsty, which is a second. At the 35 second mark, however, the synths peek out from beneath the gloom, and the chorus bursts forth with ridiculous (and ridiculously wonderful) cries of “So hot! Don’t stop!”. By the second verse, the ponderously intoned “naked” and “taken” no longer give the impression of self-seriousness; instead, they evoke the mock-serious tones of Marina & the Diamonds. The contrast between the chorus and the verses is still a bit too jarring to be seamless, but it will probably still make my Hallowe’en Dance Party Playlist.
[7]
Alfred Soto: Opening with splashy drums straight out of Beauty and the Beat-era Go-Go’s and a get-out-of-bed riff stolen from who knows where, this electropop nymphet hasn’t figured out why she’s jumping up and down on the bed so excitedly. She’s in love with a sound — a good start. Pop music lives on good starts.
[6]
Zach Lyon: SO HAWT! DON’T STAWP! And then that middle eight! This is a song about sex, and it’s not about pleasing someone else, or bragging about her skillz, or making any false attempts at true unity. It’s just pleasure. But she balances power and vulnerability so equally it comes off as dorky and human. And actually sexy. In the world of Songs About Sex, that’s a rarity.
[7]
Jonathan Bogart: I really love this. It reminds me of falling in love with the music of the Pipettes, Sophie Ellis-Bextor, Sally Shapiro, and Paris Hilton in the summer of 2006; which for a lot of people is as damning a list as could be rattled off. But as someone who automatically starts out suspicious of twee-sounding indie electropop, I was thoroughly won over by the end of the song.
[8]
Michaela Drapes: Like I’d be able to give some fun and cheerfully dark electropop made by what seems to be a savant-ish itty bitty girlchild version of David Sylvian anything less than a near-perfect score? Bitch, please.
[9]