Finalist in a Canadian reality TV show!
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[4.57]
Alfred Soto: Listen all you Britney and Ke$ha haters: you never know how good the real thing is until you’ve heard something like this, whose best virtue is the artist’s posh name.
[1]
Katherine St Asaph: “Till the World Ends” : apocalypse :: “Shut up and Dance” : Harold Camping.
[3]
Jer Fairall: More charming than something this calculatedly generic has any right to be, but still in need of a stronger voice to sell the intended euphoria of the chorus hook and definitely a greater emphasis on that captivating little synth whir that sits, all too discreetly, behind the verses. At least it isn’t dubstep.
[5]
Jonathan Bradley: LMFAO has found great success by insisting that, where dance music is concerned, obnoxiousness doesn’t even have to be fun. It’s nice, then, to hear that there’s still room in the club for streamlined anonymity. Duffield’s adolescence is the only distinct quality about “Shut Up & Dance,” and even that is only apparent in the barely discernible cartoonishness in her singing. (Her voice has that same chirrupy quality as a Disney star releasing her first single.) Still, there’s enough teen angst to make a kiss-off like “I don’t care, my heart’s on the dancefloor” function as narrative, not decoration.
[6]
Brad Shoup: At first, I thought this was just a middle-aged rapper away from an Ark Music Factory joint. But it’s really a poignant club scene, with Duffield desperate to shortcut the process of argument so she can get back to dancing. In a like vein, the muted, pulsing synths tiptoe around the couple, eager to avoid provocation. The whole thing ends on a cop-out, with the singer assuring her partner that all is forgiven, but they really had something going there.
[6]
Alex Ostroff: Victoria’s preoccupation with endless dancing and the flat, disaffected vocals are too Ke$ha to indulge in dancefloor melodrama à la the Veronicas. Still, the music doesn’t build her up or break her down — it merely takes her away for a moment, before the object of her affections tears her apart again. No matter how much Victoria protests that she doesn’t want to hear her ex talk any more, her focus is never on the party. Her heart might be on the floor, but her eyes are constantly flitting to the wall, waiting to see if he’ll get up and join her.
[5]
Iain Mew: Can I have a version of this that clips out the middle eight? Her voice there is a painful distraction from a song that otherwise turns lack of personality into a virtue. It’s pop distilled until there is no chance of actual thought to distract from enjoyment of the moment. What Pixie Lott and others have tried to get at and failed. I can easily imagine giving it tens more listens and still not remembering much about it, but enjoying every one.
[6]