A clique of diques!
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[5.20]
Jonathan Bradley: Three guys. Rapping. Competently. Over the “H.A.M.” beat gone minimalist. That equals a six, but if you want more info: Big Sean is bearable for once, and aptly sums up his career with “fuck I’m saying?” Jay is… present, and Kanye cycles through the clever lines he jotted down in his Blackberry in between fashion shows and Aziz Ansari–hang out sessions. I’m charmed by his notion that George Tenet pushes a Maybach. Maybe that’s the government waste fiscal reformers can start trimming.
[6]
Anthony Easton: I am assuming that this is Big Sean’s debutante ball — being on Kanye’s label and all, it’s clearly a favor, but a gracious host would have given the guest the best seat and the largest meal. Failure of hospitality as failure of effort, in other words.
[3]
Alfred Soto: Do Ye and Jazy think Big Sean belongs in their clique-clique-clique?
[4]
Katherine St Asaph: Clique. Clique. Operatic dystopian stuff. Dick jokes. “Imma let you finish” jokes. Bro-ing out. Breaks for personal essays. Gratuitous mentions of names (Rihanna, 2 Chainz) who don’t actually appear on the track. Clique. Clique. Click. Click. We’ve found the theme song to this year in music writing! And look, the future’s repped by Big Sean!
[5]
Brad Shoup: Aaaaaaaaah “let me finish” I see what you did there.
[5]
Patrick St. Michel: All praise goes to Hit-Boy on “Clique,” because his tipsy hiccup of a beat keeps the song interesting during the weak verses. Which is code for Big Sean’s sacrificial portion of the song, a goofy run of dumb sex jokes (rhyming “poontang” with “Wu-Tang”) that has the ill privilege of coming before the Bash-Bros-like combo of Jay-Z and Kanye. Jay-Z’s verse isn’t anything spectacular, but following Big Sean makes him seem better than he actually is here. Kanye though, delivers: he goes in on George Tenet, anticipates Spike Lee head shaking, makes a Master P pun, and the boast “everything I do need a news crew’s presence.” And yeah…a great, James-Brown-soaked beat.
[8]
Iain Mew: It’s pretty cool to have a track build through its length in quality and intensity in every aspect. Making a decent proportion of it flat out boring seems like the wrong way to go about achieving that, though. Only the operatic synth-singing provides any interest for quite a while to stop the clique, clique inspiring a bored click, click onto another song.
[5]
Jonathan Bogart: I keep wondering why I seem to hear late-60s psychedelia in Kanye’s world-spanning ego music (basically My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy and beyond), and I think it’s because late-60s psychedelia was also theoretically oppositional music that actually positioned itself as the new monolithic power structure. Meet the new boss, etc. Oh, and it ignored pop structure in favor of masturbatory self-congratulation on an immense scale. There’s that too.
[7]
Mallory O’Donnell: Typically well-produced slice of racism and misogyny from Kanye West. Are we really still listening to this clown?
[3]
Andy Hutchins: Jay and ‘Ye reunite for what could have been a Watch The Throne cut if they were into Hit-Boy’s slinkier, more liquid beats. It doesn’t matter how Shawn Carter says what he says anymore, just that he can brag about Live Nation fronting him fractions of a billion and Emory being free and never telling: After all, Jay’s The One Who Tells and The One Who Is Told at this point. Kanye, meanwhile, is still working through his issues through humor, going from the class clown with a lot of money (Logan Echolls, basically) to the deeply disturbed guy who raps his last four bars about suicide and God providing. Big Sean is a chancre on both G.O.O.D. and “Clique” and sounds every bit the part of the guy who hits leadoff and waits for the other, better hitters to drive him in, the Luis Sojo of the turn-of-the-century Yankees that G.O.O.D. could be.
[6]