Do we think this drop is better off alone?
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[6.57]
Katherine St Asaph: It is 2018, and I love a track built around an unsubtle drop into a snippetized chorus. The trick is to surround it not with blithe trop-house but steely, Indiana-like electro; plus a singer whose voice evokes Dua Lipa but weirder.
[8]
Iain Mew: Poised at the exit door of her relationship, caught between unhappy probabilities on all sides, Chi Pu leans into the heartbreak over an aching EDM throb. It’s almost all so exquisitely measured that the robo-voice bit that really isn’t is baffling.
[7]
Micha Cavaseno: Smeary yet crisply colored in a way a lot of electronic-tinged pop has failed to remain with the descent around the end of the decade. Yeah, the rap section is not anywhere near good, but the drop and breakdown is surprisingly guttural, and the builds and swells on the sung sections feel like watching someone croon while somehow able to swing along an arcade game cabinet like an amusement park ride. It’s a blurry sort of trip that doesn’t quite land at moments of brilliance, yet still provides a lot of peaks.
[7]
Ryo Miyauchi: The beat drop slides in kind of anticlimactic for a series of very drama-filled verses. But the stylistic changes in Chi Pu’s performance as well as the non-stop display of sweet synths in the production picks the story right back up.
[6]
Will Adams: The thwacky drop is great, as both a dramatic tone shift and the transition between the first verse’s pleas and the second verse’s anger. I’m just not sure it needed to go on an additional eight measures each time.
[6]
Rebecca A. Gowns: I’m reminded of Paris Hilton singles — a vanity project, a clunky club song, half-sung half-spoken all-auto-tuned, and inexplicably, a bop. When the beat drops, it’s great! It needs a little bit more nuance, and maybe somewhere else to go before the end of the song, but overall, it’s fine!
[6]
Joshua Minsoo Kim: At first, the beat drop acts as an insular space for reflection. Chi Pu is coming to terms with breaking up, and the initial shock of such a realization slowly transforms into unmistakable reality. By the time it reappears, she’s confident in her anger, flipping “baby talk to me” to “let me talk to you.” She’ll have the final say, and the following drop becomes the manifestation of an unforgiving kiss-off, the soundtrack to a self-assured strut.
[6]