It’s International Pop day! First up, Norway…
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[5.62]
Jonathan Bogart: “Best norwegian act since A-HA!” says the top YouTube comment. That this could have been released in 1985 (where it would have sunk like a stone, chord progressions being no substitute for a melody) seems to be exactly why.
[4]
Alfred Soto: What’s the definition of “rote” in Norwegian?
[3]
Anthony Easton: I love how this goes high and fast, near the middle-almost reckless, almost too quick to be heard, but not tightened up, and not paranoid, not quite an overflowing of joy, but an overflowing of affect.
[7]
Brad Shoup: Boy, is he trounced by Donkeygirl Kiesza. She works a monotone yelp, a recognizable picture of desperation. The track’s got a nightlimo thing going: masculine blurps intruding on the crossways conversation. The US charts like this sort of thing now, right?
[7]
Daniel Montesinos-Donaghy: A weirdly inviting introduction gives way to a vocal performance caught between sleek and smarmy. There’s genuine craft here, but there’s an inherent self-satisfaction that drags it down. When Donkeyboy hoot rhythmically (see the intro and the spaces between choruses), they’re onto something; when they holler, it’s all off.
[5]
Iain Mew: The verses are weak and Canadian guest Kiesza appears all too aware of the work needed to save the song, but the combination of shiny production and chomping vocal samples that backs them up is too good to hold it against them for long.
[6]
Scott Mildenhall: It’s a tough ask, but this almost reaches “Girl On Fire” levels of metaphor cramming, with lyrics only really coherent in the sense that they’re a list of thematically linked figures of speech. It’s nonetheless a pleasant listen, but the darkness it’s aiming for just isn’t attained, perhaps a lot because of Cato Sundberg’s cartoonish vocals; great for something as bubbly as “City Boy”, less for more pointed seriousface.
[6]
Will Adams: The abrupt ending of “everything hot went cold” is the perfect bow to tie this melodramatic nugget together. Along the way are the usual suspects — feeling on the edge; drowning; going down the road blind — but Cato Sundberg’s and Kiesza’s committed vocals sell the theatrics. About as good as disposable gets.
[7]