More, please!
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[7.00]
Juana Giaimo: Audri Nix suddenly appeared in 2016 in the Latin American music scene, but it’s amazing how she has already built herself as an artist. She switches between hip hop and R&B effortlessly with a passionate, sensual, and confident attitude. She is no woman to fool around with, and “Más” only confirms it. Her voice subtly but steadily slides through the dark atmosphere producer Overload builds. If Ariana Grande sings out loud her greedyness, Audri Nix knows that she must be cautious to get what she wants. “You must know I won’t settle” she sings in the prechorus, and how could you not believe her?
[8]
Peter Ryan: Audri Nix expounds convincingly on her own ambition, but Overlord’s doomy spacetrap feels newly lazy and twistless — it does the job, but compared with the otherworldly symbiosis they achieved on Nuevo Orden Vol. 1, this feels a bit like Nix is dragging around a bag of cinder blocks.
[6]
Iain Mew: This is the most fun I’ve had listening to something with brass-ish sounds that make me go 🙁 the whole way through since These New Puritans.
[7]
Edward Okulicz: The production makes me feel like it’s being sucked into a black hole before escaping — it’s all deep, uninviting throbs and mixed with weirdly inviting brass. It all sounds terrific actually if you listen to any given 30 seconds, but there’s only so many times the song can get away with its dance with the abyss and by the end it’s run out of tricks. Nix has plenty of presence, fortunately.
[6]
Jonathan Bradley: In its thundercloud production, its otherworldly and vertiginous swells, “Más” recalls something between Timbaland’s weirder contributions to Nelly Furtado’s Loose and Rodney Darkchild’s work on Brandy’s shuddering “What About Us.” Excellent reference points then, but Audri Nix makes this sound her own through her ability to keep an eerie distance and to maintain the propulsive swirling center roaming about her song.
[8]
Tim de Reuse: This entire song is buoyed by the menacing synth loop that swells in and out of focus under warbling filters and cathedral reverb — it goes from distant and brassy to up-close and fuzzy, expelling and swallowing little fluttery countermelodies as it goes. It’s such a lovely, mutated piece of sound design — and Nix’s vocal delivery is sufficiently urgent and driving — that I didn’t notice how straightforward and repetitive everything else is until the third listen.
[7]
Kat Stevens: Swirling, sultry vocals over a rattlesnake snare — hypnotic, enticing, completely unsuitable for a bright and frosty November morning. Oh well!
[7]