No shoes, no shirt, but he still gets blurbage.
[Video][Website]
[2.17]
Iain Mew: Cool story, bro. (If you’re thinking “that’s been done before“, it’s only appropriate).
[2]
Anthony Easton: I am writing this on New Year’s Eve. Instead of going to a bar and spending money I don’t have, I will make a couple of phone calls in about 45 minutes. I might even light a sparkler with my landlady. Didn’t even make it to the SAQ to buy one bottle. This song just isn’t for me.
[0]
Daniel Montesinos-Donaghy: LMFAO’s “Sexy and I Know It” is a song that pretty much everyone at The Singles Jukebox hated. Hated. It’s time this was addressed: “Sexy and I Know It” is one of the only worthwhile LA-beat jock jams to have consumed radio programming in this young decade, four minutes of gonzo hip-house being reclaimed by a afrodude with a chatterbox drawl in the name of juvenilia. It’s important to differentiate between stupid and stoopid and “Sexy and I Know It” is the latter. Despite endearingly sloppy singing and some powerful drum programming, the aforementioned afrodude’s ‘Bring Out the Bottles’ is a trudge through an endless sparkler’d bottle-serviced tribal-tatted Doron Ofir’d tunnel. Most disappointingly, it’s stupid not stoopid – the boring type of stupid.
[3]
Patrick St. Michel: At least “Sexy And I Know It” had the decency to tell a joke, albeit a bad one repeated non-stop. “Bring Out The Bottles” is just a guy going on about how awesome his night is going to be… to the point it seems like he’s trying to convince himself.
[1]
Alfred Soto: As a dry martini with a twist and single malt man, let me assure Redfoo: champagne inspires the worst hangovers.
[1]
Edward Okulicz: Such a disconnect between subject matter and Redfoo’s vocals apparent throughout this very much will-this-do genre exercise. “Yeah, it’s gon’ be popping,” he sings, all the while convincing the listener that he’s a boring drunk, not a one-man party machine.
[1]
Doug Robertson: No-one expected Redfoo to come back with a heartfelt ballad dealing with the poignancy of death and the inevitable full stop at the end of everyone’s life, no matter how much party rocking you manage to fit in during your all too brief time upon this planet, which is exactly why he hasn’t done such a stupid thing and has instead come up with this stupid thing instead. Apparently he likes a drink — who knew? — and like everyone who’s had too much to drink, it’s fun at first, but once he starts repeating himself over and over again it just ends up getting boring.
[5]
Will Adams: This sounds like a sequel to “This Kiss,” but the happiness stops there. An AutoTune drizzled Redfoo lets out deflated yeahs, hangs on for dear life to sustained notes, and pops champagne bottles as excitedly as someone standing in line at the DMV. Towards the end, he’s too tired to keep party rocking and gives up, slapping a half-time 808 skitter beat to cacophonous effect. This is the sound of someone being forced to attend a party every night for the rest of his life.
[3]
Jer Fairall: Too inconsequential, on the whole, to achieve the level of atrocity of “Sexy and I Know It,” (hopefully) too lazy and hook-free for anything other than the minor hit status that Redfoo’s name and Interscope’s money will automatically buy it, and only useful in the sense that Redfoo’s leering yeeaaahhh baaabbyys should be enough to land him on any right-minded society’s sex offender registry.
[1]
Katherine St Asaph: There’s a decent sequencer line buried under the strata of screech, and I actually think Redfoo could do something interesting with the way he sounds alternately like Future and a man who maybe wasn’t meant to sing. Of course, that’d require the imagination of anyone else but Redfoo.
[2]
Ian Mathers: Who would have thought that LMFAO had some kind of mysterious chemistry that either of them would find hard to replicate on their own? (Err, most of us, I bet.) Not very good, although the bits where his voice sounds like the guy from Scooter are pretty quality.
[2]
Brad Shoup: I wanted to make an Al Walser joke, but that’s not quite right; each man possesses a different form of canniness, and I don’t think Walser would ever think to divide his EDM melody between the four-on-the-floor and a listing, ghost-of-brostep beat. The man, the brand, the hairstyle: they achieve a kind of poignance here. His pipes are blown, and his requests gain a bit of existential urgency because of it. Plus I like that dumb little melody.
[5]