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[7.25]
[9]
Alfred Soto: I can’t explain why Missy Elliott wasted time on a track with an okay beat and vocals by the perpetually blank Kelly Rowland. As for Fantasia, her new album offers tastier goods.
[6]
Brad Shoup: I dunno if Missy’s presence elicited Harmony Samuels’ A game or what, but the track is an icy wonder, punctuated with literal zips and discrete, cooing bgv lines and the pitched-down vocal like the one Jessie Ware had so much fun experimenting with. In a brief cameo, Elliott’s not really able to repay the gesture, although hearing her mirthless laughter is nice enough. Kelly’s completely onboard, dropping perfect phrasing while skating across her middle register. As for the lead, I’ve never paid her much attention, aside from appreciating her slightly ragged vocal style. She impresses by not trying to.
[8]
Patrick St. Michel: The production is interesting, but not interesting enough to cover up how unexciting everything else about the song is. Even a Missy Elliott verse — which should be a big deal! — just seems sorta tacked on, knowing this song by itself wouldn’t stand out.
[5]
Edward Okulicz: Fantasia’s completely overshadowed by that plinky-plonky backing, midway between rain drops and ping pong balls, but also by Kelly Rowland and an almost desultory Missy verse. That’s pretty unfortunate for her, but perfectly fine by me.
[7]
Daniel Montesinos-Donaghy: Missy is on her “Son of a Gun (Remix)” shit here, adding her brand of scorned charisma, berating and laughing in the face of the dumpee. Her recent verses are pretty much fanservice for people who still listen to Da Real World on the regular, but hearing her pop up on more and more records these days still retains a sense of fun. The remainder of the song feels remarkably light as the two vocalists calmly allow verses to spill into choruses and back again, the structure of the song never really stopping the sense of overflowing thought. Fantasia and Rowland make a good duo — their vocals seem well matched and their brief dips into melisma don’t affect their chemistry. There maybe isn’t enough to the song beyond casual evisceration of fake exes, but casual evisceration is an interesting alternative to scorched-earth howling for the time being.
[7]
Jonathan Bogart: I should be tired of this Diplo/Shebib kind of production, and probably with three less focused and careful personalities I would be — Jhené Aïko was pushing it last year — but Fantasia’s sand, Kelly’s head voice, and Missy’s gruff truth push it out of derivative mope-and-B territory and into something that uses ice to back up fire.
[8]
Sabina Tang: The steady mid-tempo makes it: the ladies never raise their voices, utter threats with surface gorgeousness and venomous consideration. The image that comes to mind is Anne Hathaway, lacquered and brittle, at the end of Brokeback Mountain — though Fantasia intends to make good, not bite her lip like Miranda’s mama; to have her revenge and eat it lady-like.
[8]