Were it called “Under the Ivy,” the K. Bush alarms would have rung louder.
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[5.78]
Scott Mildenhall: The bloke from Wild Beasts on wimowehs, Florence Welch’s harp, the bassline from “Paninaro”; a more melodious, less distressed version of Niki & The Dove’s “The Drummer.” That, or an original piece of work in its own right that merits more than a load of cobbled-together reference points. So: Rae Morris’ voice isn’t particularly gripping, and the lyrics feel like they were written title outwards. In a way, they do seem like a load of cobbled-together reference points themselves. The song is a nice idea, just not one with ideas.
[6]
Crystal Leww: Rae Morris’s debut album was reportedly recorded by Ariel Rechtshaid, who worked with Charli XCX on True Romance. Unlike Charli, Morris’s problem is not that her vocals are mixed down too low, but rather, that this is immensely dissatisfying. Let’s hope her Sucker phase is as good as Charli’s though.
[4]
Katherine St Asaph: General MIDI choirs, the “Running Up That Hill” beat, a barely-processed vocal hook and a massive chorus make a song failure-proof for me, no matter how naked its Ellie Goulding ambitions are.
[9]
Alfred Soto: It’s got “Running Up That Hill” in its blood, under its feet, on the pavement, but the expertly manipulated voices abet the chorus release into pure abstract euphoria. And there’s nothing abstract about “I feel alive,” especially compared with “Let’s exchange the ex-pee-ree-ence.”
[7]
Anthony Easton: The obnoxiously flat vocal prevent this from lifting to the boshsublime.
[2]
Will Adams: The owl-y hook is undeniable, the bridge massive, the bassline tactile and grooving. For the first time, Rae Morris is truly commanding the bigger production.
[8]
Edward Okulicz: This is likeable with pretentions towards anthemic, but not as leaden or bogged down as say, Florence and the Machine. It’s an economical kind of euphoria, and if this was some breathy Scandi songstress I’m sure my knee-jerk reaction would be to rave and drool, so hey, let’s pretend and go along with it.
[8]
Micha Cavaseno: Yeah yeah yeah, doin’ it in the dark where we’re uninhibited. I heard this eons ago through “Wait For The Blackout,” and was a lot less sterile and stoic than this dead-end of slightly ‘alternative’ goth-pomp, so turn the lights off on all this.
[1]
Brad Shoup: The frontloaded call of the wild has a whiff of the Levine about it; here, Morris shares his fear of musical flab. The cantering drums and Christmas bells give this a very specific motion; rather than gothic architecture, it’s the luxury car speeding amongst it in the middle of the night. But my favorite bit is Morris’ variegated vocal. It reeks of effort in the best way.
[7]