Worth sticking around for?

[Video]
[5.75]

Andrew Karpan: One of the better arguments for Cabello I’ve heard yet! A humble party record, whose flamenco claves are both boisterous and suggestive of good times ahead. Paddle boarding with Shawn Mendes can’t possibly be this fun but when her voice cracks softly like the sound of rain on warm cement, buried under the mix’s elegant rumba, I believe she wants to believe it. 
[7]

Katherine St Asaph: Camila always redirected the spotlight or clashed distractingly (depending on your particular brand of stan goggles, or lack thereof) when she was singing with the Fifth Harmony group. The same thing happens when the group is canned.
[5]

Ian Mathers: Maybe my mom just listened to the Gipsy Kings (gosh, wish they’d stuck with Los Reyes) too much when I was a kid but the backing vocals here just sound fun to me, even though Cabello’s voice on its own ranges from neutral to slightly grating. The exuberance of the chorus and general atmosphere definitely works though.
[5]

Wayne Weizhen Zhang: “What I really wanted to manifest is collective joy,” Camila recently said in an interview, “I don’t want to be alone on stage… I want it to be a kind of family affair.” Indeed, whereas most pop aims to placate the masses, “Don’t Go Yet” sounds immediately intimate, the type of track that could just as easily soundtrack a family gathering as well as a stadium tour. Camila’s insistence on being true to her Cuban and Latin pop roots, while also drawing from peers–from Gwen Stefani to Doja Cat–makes for the most compelling track she’s released in years. This sounds like nothing on the radio right now in the most refreshing way possible.
[8]

Nortey Dowuona: Look, I didn’t like the new Normani song at all, I thought it was lumpen, corny and wayyy too desperate to ape Aaliyah (and had a completely boring Cardi B verse). But that doesn’t mean I’m gonna let Camila Cabello gentrify salsa. I mean, all she had to do was not sing terribly and I would have given this a 7. But she decided to sing entirely in ENGLISH. And the lyrics were miiiiid. Can Normani start making her own music instead of just doing Aaliyah but with a bigger vocal range so we don’t have to put up with this keening disappointment any more? Camila can’t even dance!
[3]

Thomas Inskeep: I’m happy to hear Cabello leaning into her Cuban heritage on the salsa-drenched “Don’t Go Yet,” but boy oh boy, nothing can change the fact that she’s an awful singer.
[5]

Oliver Maier: Camila wisely leans into the fact that her voice is a little bit annoying, her raspy performance opening up a colourful mode that’s felt fleetingly present before but gone mostly unexplored (to my knowledge). Her downward-angled half-rapping on the second verse suggests a raucous, salsa-inflected “Hollaback Girl” redux. At once looser and much better-constructed than either of the dour lead singles from her previous albums and a great deal more fun than most of the stuff making flimsy Latin gestures in the Billboard-sphere.
[7]

Alfred Soto: In the first twenty seconds she rasps like a reveler deep in her cups yelling song requests. The chorus isn’t that much better articulated: she’s singing oye-oye, not “don’t go yet.” Someone’s having fun.
[6]

Not a coronation, but we still at least like her…

[Video]
[6.57]

Nortey Dowuona: Little Simz has largely spent the past decade making some of the greatest rap in general and got lapped almost instantly. But it hasn’t made her bitter or truly earthbound; in fact, she’s flourished. This deeply baroque, swamp string laden ode to her missing father, riding on a roll of kicks and tiptoeing snares and crushed pianos and buoyed by stinging horns and crowing choirs, is a statement of intent — but intent to grow and move past missing and resenting her father, and choosing to let go of him. I’d like to see Baby Aitch do that.
[8]

Leah Isobel: The ambivalence of the title filters through every part of the song; much of Little Simz’s first and third verses could just as easily be about music and the emotional demands of public visibility as about her family. Even in the second verse, which focuses in on her relationship with her absent father, the tension between what to show and what to hide, manifests as disconnected present-tense observations rather than a coherent narrative. That’s not a bad choice — the conflict is honest, and it works with the beat’s lush build-then-deflate structure. But it makes the heaviest lines (“Is you a sperm donor or a dad to me?”) feel less impactful than they could.
[7]

Oliver Maier: Simz’s rapping comes alive at the exact moment she stops talking in aphorisms and digs her teeth into the topic at hand. The “Jesus Walks”-ish beat is a sturdy canvas, though, as before, the fully orchestrated passages feel pompous and overblown, undermining the material.
[5]

Tobi Tella: Every mixed feeling bubbling up to the surface in subdued ferocity: understanding without grace.
[8]

Alfred Soto: Loquaciousness is the point, and the way the sampled chorus flashes like heat lightning complicates her blunt talk, often overwhelming it. 
[7]

Andrew Karpan: Closer to Kendrick’s idea of Little Simz than her last ice-funk workout, it’s intimacy with a vibe. It’s perhaps a better fit for the slam poet-insistence of her bars, even if the production is eventually forced to step out of the way in order to keep the spotlight on center stage, scrolling absentmindedly through a series of brassy clichés that never stay around long enough to land.
[4]

Juana Giaimo: It’s so hard to put a rating to a song that feels so cathartic. Her rapping is like an inner monologue — a very well structured and coherent one — and everything surrounding it is like its soundtrack. If in “Introvert” the orchestration was grand and imposing, here it’s more intimate, being in synch with her story. These are hard songs to think of only as singles, but I guess that showing a little bit of a bigger project is also the aim of singles. 
[7]

“I’m like, ‘Dude, I’m going to die and Oreo shakes will go on and on and on.’ And I could take credit. It’s pretty awesome.”

[Video]
[3.09]

Alfred Soto: Where John Cougar thought Tasty Freez metonymized the boringness of routine sex in shit-ass rural towns, Walker Hayes thinks dinner at Applebee’s is okay and comparing a vagina to a Frosty a delicious metaphor. You do you, pal. The guitars have snap, Hayes sounds game — for a sustained dog whistle “Fancy Like” is as irony-resistant as an impact window in a tropical storm. No farro and crème brûlée for our Walker. Miranda Lambert, Ashley McBryde, and countless other female performers fled men like Walker and dumps like his town not because they sucked in themselves or because their songwriting couldn’t illuminate these objects or these symbols — they fled because every time Walker Hayes sings another “Fancy Like” he inspires other men or, worse, inspires them to pick up a guitar and write.
[4]

Tobi Tella: My last late-night-cravings-fueled trip to Wendy’s gave me food poisoning, which was somehow preferable to this.
[0]

Thomas Inskeep: Musically, it’s 100% Sam Hunt, from the click track to Hayes’s almost-rapping delivery, but without his passion for classic country. Lyrically, it’s a lot of blue-collar clichés and inevitable future tie-ins (Applebee’s had to give him some cash for this, right?). This is gonna be huge, like it or not.
[3]

Michael Hong: “Fancy Like” is everything that people who hate country music think it is — but when Walker Hayes gets specific, the caricature sounds even dumber. Thank producer Shane McAnally for giving equal weight to the “country” and the “pop,” merging booming beats with the steely guitar. Blame Hayes for treating the “country” like a stupid joke.
[2]

Edward Okulicz: Based on his flow, I think the only rap song Walker Hayes has ever listened to might be “I’m On a Boat.” They’re drinking Oreo shake, ’cause it’s so crisp. This is a vile exercise in “crossover” fueled by TikTok, but the riff is ingratiating, and the aw-shucks delivery makes me want to punch myself for liking it more than I want to punch Hayes for making it. He’s the worst, but I’m not far behind.
[6]

Jeffrey Brister: I hate it with a passion in all of its aw-shucks tackiness. But as a little trash goblin who married a beautiful partner, and someone who has had romantic dates at Applebee’s when that was the height of the luxury we could afford, I love it so much. “Fancy Like” is goofy, poorly executed with no real change in energy level, and has an uninteresting arrangement. But being reminded of who I was in such a specific way breaks down my defenses to the point where I literally cannot dislike it, no matter how much my rational brain tells me to.
[9]

Mark Sinker: Nothing in this man’s life appeals to me in the slightest, and also I resent his use of the word “fancy,” which I think you’ll find is my word. 
[5]

Katherine St Asaph: Makes one long for the relative tastefulness of Timbaland and Justin Timberlake’s “Carry Out.” At least its grossness didn’t have nine brand names.
[0]

Al Varela: People really listened to this man sing-rap “She want me to dip my fries in her Frosty” and decided this was the country song to define the year. What’s the point in asking for more country music that’s organic and story-driven if you keep letting war crimes like this happen?
[0]

Nortey Dowuona: “Old Town Road” was a slight, slightly goofy country song about being free. “Fancy Like” is a dull, poorly structured country pop song about being a cheapskate. Walker sounds so smarmy and insincere, and he definitely seems like the kind of guy who buys out a whole restaurant to propose to a girl. Worse, he doesn’t even explain why his girl likes the more middling pleasures in life like Applebee’s and Oreo milkshakes. Meanwhile, here’s this young black kid just talking about Wrangler and horse tack with no gloating, just sincere enjoyment — but guess who is trying to follow that kid up the TikTok streets? This is awful and disrespects all the wonderful ladies who are largely unmoved by flashy fancy schmancy bullshit. They see right though this shallow, pandering nonsense. Expect to see this in an Applebee’s commercial and feel bad for Applebee’s — which has done even worse things.
[3]

Juana Giaimo: We’ve had hundreds of songs bragging of having a simple lifestyle, but “Fancy Like” is not about that: it’s about having a cheaper lifestyle. There is no nature, no family or friends, just a list of the brands Walker Hayes consumes — and he doesn’t even put any sentimentality into that. I honestly don’t know what he’s so proud of. 
[2]

But how do we really feel about posthumous collabs?

[Video]
[3.00]

Samson Savill de Jong: I’m always a bit hesitant about posthumous releases, especially from rappers, and especially from snippets of verses from rappers that clearly hadn’t been expanded into a full track. We won’t ever know what Pop Smoke would have wanted to do with the verse and chorus on “Demeanor,” so we just have to deal with what we’ve got: the verses on top of a generic Dua Lipa(TM) beat. Smoke’s verse (about poverty and doing crime to escape the trap) is decent in isolation, but it’s too wildly incongruous with the sound and with Dua Lipa’s verse (about being sexy). Also, whoever let Dua say “female alpha” needs to be fined a week’s salary.
[3]

Oliver Maier: Exploitative and musically incompetent. Pop’s exhumed vocals do not gel in the slightest with the warmed-over synth funk beat, and Dua Lipa gives me second-hand embarrassment. Depressing stuff.
[0]

Alfred Soto: Dua Lipa sounds ready to pirouette and somersault, while Pop Smoke mutters and heaves in the corner. Good songs and good motivations rarely coincide, but the cynicism on display stinks. 
[3]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: Despite this whole thing having the combined vibe of a graverobbing and a fanmade trailer for an extremely bad superhero crossover movie, I cannot help but enjoy this. Dua and Pop are well-suited to the Tron: Legacy-type beat, and their extremely synthetic chemistry is good enough to distract you from the weirdness of the material circumstances that led to this happening. Extremely excited to hear this in a grocery store and vaguely bop my head along.
[6]

Thomas Inskeep: I never got what everyone saw in Pop Smoke (the world didn’t need a defanged DMX), and I definitely don’t want “Dua Lipa rapping” on my musical bingo card.
[2]

Tim de Reuse: Pop Smoke lopes around a cheesy beat, rambling and relaxed and exuding confidence; Dua Lipa comes in after him with the awkward, too-crisp diction of a Marvel movie, trying desperately to hamstring a bad attitude into a song built around a couple throwaway verses. “My diamonds will make you choke” is, bar none, the worst single line I’ve heard this year. It speaks to Pop Smoke’s charisma that any of his personality manages to survive this strange, off-balance hack job.
[4]

Ian Mathers: Even without context this feels pretty Frankensteined together. At least when it’s just Pop Smoke listlessly suspended in the middle of the pretty incongruous production it’s got some floaty weirdness that almost succeeds as surreal, but it has none of his usual power and doesn’t replace it with enough. The less said about Dua Lipa’s part, the better.
[4]

Leah Isobel: If Pop Smoke was alive, “Demeanor” would probably still feel incongruous. Dua’s persona isn’t in conversation with Pop’s work at all, and her arch robo-Rihanna shtick pulls focus uncomfortably. Pop’s verse is pretty solid, particularly when the beat locks back onto his rhythm. But because he’s not alive, the whole affair takes on a ghoulish, artificial tint. Why a Weeknd-style strobing/sleazy beat? Why this pop girl in particular? Sure, it’s possible that he’d have been making these kinds of pop crossovers now, but we can’t know that for sure, and it’s hard not to see this as a bunch of execs using the memory of the deceased to boost the credibility and profit of the living.
[1]

Nortey Dowuona: It’s become clearer and clearer that mimicry of elder and well-liked artists will become the way of future entertainment, especially for elder artists long past their peak and long past their time of living. Or if a young artist dies, they will be recreated by holograms owned by either their estates or some wealthy fanboy about to cash in on the rotting roses lying upon that artist’s grave. Furthermore, many living artists who have just purchased a fresh bouquet of calla lilies would like to shore up their legacies by aligning themselves with a legendary, near-mythical creature to seem important, like they’re Pete next to his beautiful dragon. Struggling in their own artistic designs, listing and wilting on the vine, they see a new chance to swallow the cut roots of the rosebushes and sprout new ones. Then we have these artists’ fanbases, who are ready to imbibe even more of their art, even as their elders are unraveled and their pages scattered to the uncaring winds. Their peers are erased and smudged, leaving a faint outline where any possible future for them could have been drawn, one that cannot be altered by greed or foolishness. Finally, we have this song. “Demeanor,” as it is, might have been furiously decried by a dwindling group of fans scared to see their peer wander onto their own path. It would be applauded by others, who would see in it a forest of dragons available to fly and kill competitors. Millions more would just be here for the job and pass on the track as they go sneaker shopping, completely unaware of the pitched battle for the soul of art. “Demeanor” will find its way into their playlists with its wilted synths and drums, the stiff bass and flat Van Halen funk guitars, Pop’s vague limp flow, and Dua YSL saying things like “female alpha” with the most uninvested smile and a weak, nudging joke to her now-dead coworker. Someone will plan a Dua/Pop Smoke hologram concert, turning their bodies into empty husks. But this shouldn’t happen, because this shouldn’t exist. Death is a frightening and unimaginable state that happens to even the wealthiest, cruelest and most powerful men, who lie in well-threaded beds and pristine houses. It’s not going to be circumvented by holograms and posthumous collaborations and unfinished verses, left to rot on hard drives until the ink is dry on the newspaper obituary, wrapped around the now-worthless corneas and dug out of the tangle of unused microphone cables. Pop Smoke is dead, he’s taken his Dior, he’s been in all the stores, and now he’s outta here.
[4]

We were bouncin’ in our chairs when we wrote this.

[Video][Website]
[8.33]

Leah Isobel: Tinashe sees herself dancing in a mirror — athletic, capable, self-assured — and then looks past her reflection with a smile to meet our eyes. “Might intimidate ya,” she coos, but not as a means to assert dominance; the line is followed by “Don’t/I’mma see you later.” Maybe RCA didn’t know how to bring out the best in her because she doesn’t work with the triumphal militarism that the industry so often encourages, particularly from artists using pop aesthetics. Even when she dips into slightly harder or more experimental textures, like the clipped and pitched-down vocal samples here, the atmosphere isn’t alienating because she surrounds those ideas with soft synth pads, chewy rubberized bass, and slushy hi-hats. The effect is welcoming and slightly mind-bending, like a dream of a dancefloor. “Bouncin’” asks us to follow her into a fantasy where we can see her body moving and move both in response and in sync; she’s independent, which means she’s with us by choice. When she commands, she also welcomes: “Watch it bouncin’ on the ground/Got my edges sweating out/Turn it up extra loud” becomes “Tonight we steppin’ out/Been a minute since I found/Someone who can hold it down.” It’s the fantasy of perfect reciprocity, where attention and skill and competence are rewarded for what they are, where sexuality doesn’t tip into sexualization, and where the performance of femininity doesn’t cancel out interiority. It sounds like good drugs.
[10]

Wayne Weizhen Zhang: Reliably churning out another jam, Tinashe doesn’t bounce so much as soar. Her voice vacillates between that of a smoldering goddess and a diaphanous siren, each with their own layers of magic, pleasure, and mischief.   
[8]

Nortey Dowuona: Tinashe has been consistently great at dancing, singing, songwriting and album rollouts since 2012, and all she’s received for her hard work is complete disrespect and apathy. At this point, the idea of world-conquering stardom has long since passed, it’s now time to settle into her cult and spawn a legion of Nashes. “Bouncin’,” with its searing croons and dry smirks from Nasty Nashe, katana synths, gel blanket keyboards and propulsive bass and shivering, chomping percussion and paper mache snares is the sound of a cult artist reentering themselves and no longer chasing an imaginary audience meant to appear once every last distinguishing feature has been removed or smudged beyond view. Plus, the music video has Nashe literally creating a whole team of dancers with just her hips. It’s brilliant.
[10]

Camille Nibungco: A sweet summery song that calls for partners to “match her energy” on the dancefloor that solidifies Tinashe as an contemporary R&B queen in a career upswing. The minimalist thumping bassline and the unexpectedly mesmerizing bleep-y hook that’s nostalgic for early 2000s Y2K R&B artists via Lloyd and Ashanti. The modern twist being Tinashe’s falsetto and flow that levels the track to a post-quarantine dream state. 
[8]

Ian Mathers: Sometimes just vibing for three minutes, doing little variations throughout (the falsetto bit, the reverse-Chipmunked bit, the bits where we get a little more focus on the pleasingly aqueous production, the more forthright singing bit) but just vibing, works. There’s nothing wrong with just feeling like one jumbo-sized chorus for the whole duration.
[7]

Juana Giaimo: This is fun, I certainly don’t mind listening to it, but I feel many pop songs these days start with a good idea but then they don’t develop it any further. I like the rapped chorus followed by the almost celestial high-pitched vocals, but it feels like a cycle that repeats itself again and again — and the song is only 3 minutes long. The track never changes, so whatever Tinashe does with her voice  always has the some background, blurring the different sections of the song and making it feel like one endless and rather tiring chorus. 
[6]

Alfred Soto: Tinashe has a talent for gliding from the recited to the sung that doesn’t call attention to itself in the showbiz way; she’s strong enough a singer and canny enough a performer to understand her limits, sure, but her power too (Amerie comes to mind). Reliant on a string of sibilants and onomatopoetic admissions, “Bouncin’” is the straightforward banger she’s needed in a minute. 
[8]

Edward Okulicz: Rather than relying on an aggressive beat, Tinashe’s bounce is controlled, like the first minute or two of a workout warm-up or a cool-down, or the moves of someone so skilled on the floor that she doesn’t have to think too hard. It’s the bounce you do on the spot while planning your next move, planning your attack, anticipating your pleasure. Tinashe’s just as good toughing it out on the chorus as she is inviting you in the verses, landing the hooks with subtlety. The production alternates between pleasurable pulses that make the head bounce more than the feet for me, and then feeling like cool splashes of water to the face. There’s not a lot actually going on in the song, but the mood is perfect, and it puts me in a good mood.
[8]

Oliver Maier: Tinashe as a pop singer is not vain about her own voice, and will gladly stay reserved in service of a song. That understatedness is part of her intimate charm, but on “Bouncin’” in particular it also allows her to work in conjunction with the arrangement, rather than over it. “Bouncin’ on the ground” becomes onomatopoeic through repetition, ping-ponging between between regular and shifted pitch. The glossy beat is all synths popping and echoing like squeaking shoes on a basketball court; the bass is near-tangible, whirring up and thudding back to earth. The interplay between performer and instrumental feels as natural as anything. Some tracks on 2019’s Songs For You were hampered by Tinashe’s workmanlike structuring: verse goes here, chorus goes here, verse, chorus, beat switch if we’re feeling adventurous, good job team. The impulse is still present but it comes across better simply because “Bouncin’”‘s immaculate poise is a means to an end, a gradual setting-up for the transcendent stretch from 2:20 to 2:43. It all wraps around to feeling like magic rather than muscle, effort that seems effortless. Perfect pop.
[10]

The mainstream media found “Montero” controversial. We find “Industry Baby” controversial. We are not the same.

[Video]
[7.25]

Jeffrey Brister: I’ve followed Lil Nas X casually since “Old Town Road”, and one thing that’s always fascinated me is that, even when his music wasn’t the most compelling or interesting, he was unrepentantly himself, and that seemed to incense people to a degree I didn’t think possible. And the angle of attack was always very clear. Tweet after tweet, article after article, all attempting to deploy homophobic and racist rhetoric against an artist who is unapologetically gay and black. He didn’t go away, he kept making music, kept needling all the right people, never left the public consciousness, and now he gets his victory lap. “Industry Baby” is just three minutes of triumphant stunting, a finger in the eye of everybody that discounted Lil Nas X. There’s just so much joy in this song, with all of its big horns, its lyrics claiming victory–I can’t stop listening. There’s just something about a queer artist getting a W like this that makes me a little hopeful.
[10]

Will Adams: This genre of victory lap songs never really do it for me. Okay, great, you got some hits — would you like to make another? Lil Nas X’s gets in some endearingly silly lines here, but overall “Industry Baby” is weighed down by self-seriousness, and dragged further by that awful, Cheap As Free horn section. Did Kanye do that on purpose?
[5]

Wayne Weizhen Zhang: Lest we forget that the fact that the boldness of a queer Black man’s self-expression can still be considered radical in 2021, Lil Nas X swerves back with a braggadocio and smugness that could be seen as intentionally trolling his haters if it didn’t read as so authentic. “Industry Baby” is a victory lap so well earned not even Jack Harlow can derail it. 
[8]

Ian Mathers: Not really 100% sure why Harlow is here, let alone for what feels like a shrug of a verse in this particular context, but the rest of the song is fucking fantastic. Triumphant like a ring entrance, defiant in a way that feels more legitimate than a lot of imperial-level pop (what with The Culture and The Discourse, you know), playfully confident and confidently playful. Watching Lil Nas X seemingly effortlessly nail what sure feels like an ascent to the top has been a real joy. With a feature on the level of the rest of it, I could give this a 10, easy. Either way I’m going to have that chorus stuck in my head for a while.
[9]

Thomas Inskeep: Bless a popstar as big as LNX for singing “I’m queer” on a sure-to-be smash single, but take points away for preceding that with “I don’t fuck bitches,” and for including defiantly mediocre rapper Jack Harlow, who refers to his nemeses as “pussies” — nice misogyny, guys! You can hear co-producer Kanye in the faker-than-fake synth horns, and co-producers Take a Daytrip in the way this flatly sounds like much of LNX’s output of late. I love him as a person and personage, but — and so — I really wish his music was better than this.
[4]

Nortey Dowuona: The only issue I can sincerely level against this song is the Madea line: it’s such an overused punchline you can feel your eyes rolling in your head. Otherwise it’s a stone cold knee slapper that bounces you right out of your shoes until the scowling horns looping around the bulbous bass drums and martial style percussion and baseball snares, which Nas X easily hops over without even blinking, a smile on his face. And it feels exhilarating. Even Jack Harlow, who constantly exists at a solid 6, peeks his head up, smirking at his far more developed facial scruff and smiling gently at his broad as punch OG, feeling himself and the snares out and finding them more strong than he initially thought. Then Nas X leads us out, knowing now our summer is forever on smash.
[8]

Alfred Soto: Live by the meme, die by the meme. The dullest track he’s put his name on. The synth brass and distorted chorus vocals he plucks from a Timbaland production circa 2006. Too early for this revanchism. 
[4]

Al Varela: “Old Town Road” seems so far away from us now. The artist we knew in 2019 has evolved from a viral novelty to one of the most expressive and exciting pop artists in recent memory, and “Industry Baby” is the victory lap. If nothing else, it’s the most complete song Lil Nas X has ever made. The waves of trumpets splashing against the punchy bass and Lil Nas X’s cocky but charming hubris is infectious in so many ways. Not just in how perfectly crafted the beat is by Take A Daytrip and (begrudgingly) Kanye West, but also in how both Lil Nas X and Jack Harlow can come off as confident and badass while still indulging in their sense of humor. Lil Nas X can demand a song with Nicki and brag about being sued, while Jack Harlow can send home a girl to her boyfriend with a handprint on her asscheek. This song convinces me that both artists are born to be superstars, and this may be their crowning achievement.
[10]

One, two misstep…

[Video]
[4.71]Alfred Soto: Change the pace yourself.
[4]

Juana Giaimo: Jennifer Lopez says she wants to dance, but she isn’t putting a lot of energy in this. Her monotonous spoken words in the chorus are boring. They tried making the chorus less repetitive by putting silences, but then that is repeated too. Rauw Alejandro could have bring more dynamism to the song, but instead (after having a bridge that has nothing to do with the rest of the song) his backing vocals in the last chorus are also monotonous spoken words that doesn’t add anything at all.
[4]

Harlan Talib Ockey: This is a shoddy remix, right? Not an original song? I’m convinced that if I scour the Internet hard enough, I’ll find the real “Cambia el Paso”, a full-force battle cry revolving wholly around JLo’s furiously charismatic “left! right! left! AVANZA!“– as a good night out after a breakup should. Instead, what we get is ruptured by hilariously dated, obtrusive production, like the whiny flute abomination throttling the choruses, and Rauw Alejandro, who is clearly only here for Cross-Promotion With The Youths. His abrupt gatecrashing into the bridge hits Lana Del Rey-on-“Don’t Call Me Angel” levels of total momentum loss, his verse afterwards adds nothing to the song’s structure, and his ad-libs in the final chorus sound like he’s frantically throwing spaghetti at the wall in an attempt to create chemistry. Still, “one! two! step! AVANZA!” does pop off. Where’s that version?
[4]

Nortey Dowuona: The pulsing Coca Cola synth that leads in Jennifer’s weak, meek voice over the thin sheet synths and bland reggaeton drums is so annoying I actually am excited to hear it drop out of the mix for a dusting of guitar — but then it comes back and keeps on dragging the song down, before another dusting of guitar comes down. Rauw slips in to carefully cradle Jennifer’s voice, then picks the song and runs with it, pulling it forward, then sets Jennifer atop it to drag it back down. This much overproduction prevents the song from flying to actually take off. I wish this was just a solo Rauw cut.
[5]

Thomas Inskeep: JLo, particularly when singing in Spanish, has the impressive ability to sound sexy, and in fact does on the verses of “Cambia el Paso.” But she’s failed by the song’s awful chorus, which features Lopez counting down and repeatedly insisting that “all she wanna do is just dance dance dance dance” (and nobody needs reminded of Don Henley’s 1985 hit). Alejandro’s sweet voice sounds fine here, though there’s no vocal chemistry with Lopez; he was clearly brought in just for streaming clicks.
[4]

Wayne Weizhen Zhang: A deeply sexy, of-the-moment, effortlessly constructed club banger collaboration. “Cambia El Paso” is the mature fruit of a pop star who has lived her life authentically, with no fucks left to be given.
[8]

Oliver Maier: The raw reggaeton materials are there, but no one on “Cambia el Paso” is really sure what to do with them. Everything sounds a little listless, a bit confused. Things approach coherence on the hook, but it’s nothing you’d return to after the fact.
[4]

Brooklyn… Deens… Expressway…?

[Video]
[5.38]

Mark Sinker: The focused hum of the beat works for it and yes she goes right bluntly there — even when “there” is a meme three years past its sell-by. In context in itself slowthai’s squeaky-horny guest-rap is a p funny bit, but the way it puts ironic art-marks round everything is also kind of a mood killer.
[7]

Tim de Reuse: Convincingly classless, a surprisingly tense beat, a sense that she’s delivering the line “I need a big dick boy” with a self-aware smile. Maybe it runs out of ideas. But it’s good. Except for — ugh, how do I put this? Look — I appreciate a big dick, okay? But if I came across one as humorless and self-obsessed as slowthai is here, I’d put my clothes back on and go home.
[6]

Claire Biddles: Surely it’s not too late to stop slowthai.
[3]

Thomas Inskeep: This filthy collab makes “WAP” sound like “Can’t Take My Eyes Off of You,” but, unfortunately, it doesn’t have any of the spark that “WAP” does. Or art. Matters aren’t helped by slowthai’s verse, which is just kinda vulgar, nor by Shygirl’s would-be Azealia Banks routine. I’ve got no problem with filth, but do something with it; give me a payoff.
[2]

Andrew Karpan: The most curiously erotic feeling on any of Shygirl’s industrial anthems of desire is a kind of knowing, dissatisfied fatigue. “Ain’t nobody slanging it right,” is a vibe — tense, frustrated, recognizable and perhaps existential. It’s a bratty energy that I think an awards show villain like slowthai can handsomely approximate, but is nonetheless too clever to inhabit quite as well.
[6]

Nortey Dowuona: Shygirl has a pretty smooth, sea-glass flow with a low snarl that runs so close to the bouncing bass and percussion-crashed snares she glides along underneath without troubling, but Thai tangles up the bass, his nasally voice ripping through the percussion, rattling and shrieking, sounding horny as all hell. When Shygirl smooths it back down, it’s a bummer.
[7]

Wayne Weizhen Zhang: Erotic but not sexy, grotesque but not gross, shrill but not chilly, “BDE” writhes, hangs, and slangs with the megalomania of a graphic fantasy contorting itself to life. Its garishness is positively delicious. 
[9]

Alfred Soto: The metallic echo and bass hum are filthier than the smut proffered archly by all involved. I mean, I guess it’s possible to place scare quotes around sex raps. 
[3]

Guetta the devil you know…

[Video]
[4.57]

Wayne Weizhen Zhang: An decidedly anonymous dance track with the durability and memorability of single-use plastic. 
[3]

Alfred Soto: “Generic” is the point of Guetta. When that house piano pounds out another predictable chord sequence, however, the track takes a self-reflexive turn: “Remember” becomes an ode to other Guettafied productions, which makes the wistful chorus earned. 
[5]

Mark Sinker: Maybe I’d feel prouder of myself if I could learn to detest Guetta a bit more. Yes, every single item is passed through the exact same moulded sonic banding, and it all emerges brightly striated in the exact same way — and here’s me smiling and nodding away, same as ever.
[6]

Thomas Inskeep: I’m not sure how long the UK can keep cranking out uptempo house-pop in three-minute slices like this, but when it’s this ebullient, who cares? Hill does a great job making this kiss off an “I Will Survive” for 2021.
[7]

Samson Savill de Jong: I don’t know if people remember or care about such things, but there was this discourse in video games a few years ago about “ludonarrative dissonance”. The term was about describing a perceived contrast and disconnect between a game’s story and gameplay (often when one was trying to be serious and deep whilst the other was goofy fun). This song deserves to be hit with the equivalent label for music. Over the top of a generic, triumphant, extremely David Guetta beat, Becky Hill sings about continuing to pine for an ex that she’s better off without. The lyrics and song don’t match because it sounds like she ought to pushing through and finally breaking loose of these memories, but that’s not what she’s saying. Having the lyrics and music contrast can work when it’s done intentionally, but the contrast here feels due to the fact Guetta is incapable of making any other track than the one shit beat he’s been producing for over a decade.
[2]

Tim de Reuse: While mostly unremarkable, this track has illuminated a heretofore-unexplored tonal dissonance between shiny rave pianos and the act of moping by your awful ex’s house in the rain.
[4]

Ian Mathers: I honestly thought David Guetta had left music for political activism so, at least in one sense, this was a nice surprise.
[5]

Look, I’ve got certain information. Certain things have come to light, and, you know, has it ever occurred to you that — given the nature of all this new shit, this could be a lot more, uh, uh, uh, uh, uh, uh — pang!

[Video]
[5.14]

Claire Biddles: “Bunny Is a Rider” is a somewhat disappointing follow-up to Pang, which balanced its percussive moments with lush, dense textures. The minimal set-up of bass/vocals/whistling? is a tantalising start, but I wish it opened up into something more. The song’s titular protagonist is intangible, unknowable, and I feel like I’m watching her, rather than embodying her delicious freedom.
[5]

Vikram Joseph: A strange, elliptical escapist fantasy spun across elastic bass and Danny L Harle’s spacey soundscapes, “Bunny Is a Rider” is an intriguing taster of Caroline Polachek’s second album. On first impressions, it pales by comparison to the singles from Pang – not as effervescent as “So Hot You’re Hurting My Feelings”, as spine-chilling as “Ocean Of Tears”, or as transcendent as “Door.” But the blend of tartness and sweetness starts to taste pretty good after a few listens, and there’s a precision to the structure that reassures me that Polachek knows exactly what she’s doing.
[7]

Will Adams: Instrumentally, “Bunny Is a Rider” follows up on what made Pang so engaging: it skitters and swoops and whistles and giggles like a baby. But Polachek’s melody is far more restrained. Without her signature vocal acrobatics, we get a song that’s less of an adventure and more a pleasant, steady cruise — or “ride,” if you will.
[6]

Dorian Sinclair: I’ve listened to “Bunny Is a Rider” an astonishing number of times trying to figure out what about it isn’t clicking for me. For every choice I do enjoy, there’s another I don’t — the bass is great, but I’m tired of marimba; the whistling is deployed way better than in most songs that use it, but the baby feels unnecessary. There are some great one-off production choices (I’m particularly fond of the sudden spoken intrusion at 1:12), and Polachek sounds good, particularly on the choruses. But ultimately the song feels a little slight.
[5]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: Get the fuck out of here with this stock music ass bass line. I can’t believe this shit. It’s like they got Primus to produce an Ariana Grande album, like you isolated whatever Flea is playing on “You Oughta Know” and put it right in front of the mix. It’s the second understudy in a touring production of Charlie Puth’s “Attention.” It’s really not very pleasant to listen to. Also, the Earth Day line is very silly.
[2]

Katherine St Asaph: Remember when Chairlift’s “Ch-Ching” came out and was very obviously an unused Beyoncé demo despite the duo kind of talking around that fact in interviews, and then they eventually admitted that yeah, OK, it really was? I’m convinced “Bunny Is a Rider” is the same. Danny L Harle’s production sounds nothing like Pang but instead workaday trop-pop with lightly nostalgic early-oughts R&B interludes (around 1:09, for instance). More noticeably, Caroline Polachek sounds nothing like herself for most of the song. Apart from the chorus — which, perhaps tellingly, is not the hook — her vocal sounds a little uninvested, a little too engineered to pop-R&B specs from several years ago. Specifically, she sounds exactly like Drake on the verses — the electronic drawl, the More Life-esque sigh to the melodies. I can see a universe where Caroline took an unused demo and wrote a new chorus — the part where she does sound like herself, where her vocals are more acrobatic and her melodies more diffident. That’s not an insult, really, since “Bunny Is a Rider” being a song by Drake or his imitators would certainly give those verses a harsher gaze — particularly given the incredibly sneering Of Montreal song the title comes from. If true, her more generous chorus would be both a welcome answer song and a nice bit of salvage work. But of course, all of this is wild speculation. There’s a whole world of artists soliciting demos. Maybe Dua Lipa?
[5]

Wayne Weizhen Zhang: Eerily reminiscent of Rare-era Selena Gomez. Which is to say: agreeable center-left pop which conforms to trends enough to hint at mainstream appeal, while still being able to revel in its own songwriting oddness. 
[6]