You know Dasher and Dancer and Sage the Gemini and Vixen…

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[5.50]

Anthony Easton: The only one who shaked anything like a red nose was Rudolph, though I suspect that the words here mean less than that skeletal beat and abstract gorgeousness. It might as well be about wombats. 
[7]

Katherine St Asaph: There will always be new kinds of nihilistic minimalism, ways to produce small melodies and sinuous stuff about shaking it. Which, in a way, is bizarrely hopeful.
[6]

Brad Shoup: Fuck no we haven’t run out of shaking similes. He’s got some lines, but is entirely focused on getting them out, which is the quickest way to a short club career. But I’ll give him this: his production (here, and on the entire EP) is blissy and unfocused, worthy of an undersea documentary.
[5]

Josh Langhoff: I’m tempted to maybe overrate this on the basis of Sage?s minimalist authority and the casual socioeconomic significance of a new rapper lavishing money on strippers and pitbull kennels. (“So funny,” chides Chief Keef in “Show Money,” “got a Red Nose with no money.”) Sage creates and inhabits a distinctive world; I love that he cuckolds the guy who’s there making dinner. Whoa, there I go:
[6]

Alfred Soto: How exactly do you “shake it like a red-nosed pitbull”? When he strives for poetic effects, he fails. When he doesn’t, he’s ordinary.
[4]

Mallory O’Donnell: Now that techno and hip-hop production blueprints are virtually identical barring tempo, both are infested with the same tetchy problem. Any scene or style that gets told by the internet that it’s hip starts to play it too safe, too minimal, too boring. Great track, goes absolutely nowhere.
[5]