ifeye – r u okay?

Via Leah, a new K-pop group enters the chat…

[Video]
[6.50]Leah Isobel: “r u okay?” is a funhouse full of wonky, sparkly knickknacks — the descending harmony line at the end of each verse, the many varieties of squeaky percussive effects, the cool electric chords that bring whimsy to the bassline’s pleasant menace — but the song’s real trick is streamlining its off-kilter details into a cohesive and architectural whole. Rather than simply being weird for weirdness’s sake, they indicate and build up to the trapdoor reveal of the actual chorus halfway through, punctuated by the drum track breaking out into a straightforward house groove; suddenly, all that strange ephemera locks into place. It’s clever and goofy and, above all, pleasurable — which, in a year as relentlessly joyless as they come, feels like a real balm. Things can still be fun!
[8]

Katherine St. Asaph: Two distinct and decent sections: a lite-lite funk pop hook, and vague feints at menace over what sounds like an RPG dungeon theme. Multiply two times too many.
[6]

Andrew Karpan: The hard ringing bhangra bells are what do it for me, and make me think of a somehow kinder and warmer place, namely the forgotten urgency and potent heat of the summer of 2017.
[7]

Ian Mathers: Enjoying the segment of the current pop music video that is embracing high-effort random and/or surreal elements. I think it’s even effective, I’m more likely to listen the song a few times and therefore get the vocal hook stuck in my head if I’m enjoying the weirdness (although there are parts here that remind me of A$AP Rocky’s superior and far weirder “Tailor Swif“).
[7]

Nortey Dowuona: Apparently the Americans are drawing upon their delusional nativism and hoping to keep you out. They keep only referring to you as 2000s nostalgists. They also think you’re a bunch of Gwen Stefani wannabes. They treat you as also-rans next to NewJeans and every other anonymous gaggle of younger women in the wake of Blackpink. WHAT ARE YOU PREPARED TO DO ABOUT IT?
[5]

Anjy Ou: “r u okay” opens up with an echoey voice chanting “escúchame el huracán viene por ti” (“listen to me, the hurricane is coming for you”) and then proceeds to speed through the first verse, pre-chorus, chorus, and post-chorus within 60 seconds flat. It’s hilarious in hindsight, but it captures quite well what it feels like to fall headlong into a crush, and also how addictive this little blip of bass-driven dance pop is.  The peppy vocals seamlessly blend confident talk-rap with airy melodies, and the lyrical triplets are extremely fun — I like to think of them with various exclamation points (e.g. “ok? ok! ok.”) to fit the story of burgeoning romance. The production creates little pockets of negative space at the beginning of different sections, allowing the song to catch its breath but also mimicking the swoop of your stomach as you drop from the top of a rollercoaster — especially at the last chorus when the singer exclaims “Let’s go manic!” It’s a lot to pack into a 2:44 runtime, but ifeye make it look easy. A standout single (and EP!) from a rookie group in a year where really interesting K-pop has been thin on the ground.
[8]

Claire Davidson: It took me some time to figure out what I found so exasperating about “r u okay?”: none of the members of ifeye are particularly poor vocalists, the track doesn’t make any truly ill-advised sonic choices, and the chorus even features a more colorful keyboard line that imbues some life into the track. Yet for as energetic as “r u okay?” strives to be, the song still feels surprisingly lifeless, its half-hearted attempts at building momentum becoming tedious when they aren’t actively grating. The pseudo-rap that powers the verses lacks any real spunk or vocal personality, and the chorus feels so scattershot amidst its inclusion of repeated filler words that the hook is never allowed to develop any true anthemic drive. That’s before the more bass-heavy post-chorus arrives, eradicating most of my previous goodwill for the track thanks to its wheedling synth line and breathless attempts to galvanize the listener with more lyrical fragments, this time with an even huffier vocal delivery. The whole song represents a more subtle form of disjointedness than is usually present in K-pop: the disparate parts aren’t so contrasting as to become abrasive or jarring, but they still never manage to form a complete whole, making for a song that feels oddly dissatisfying for all of its sugary touches.
[4]

Alfred Soto: The brimfuls of ashra hinted at by one of the sub-melodies, killer bridge, and house synths on the chorus syncopate in a delightful way, as my ass and hips demonstrated on fourth play.
[7]