We’re so curmudgeonly, we’ll only let one song called “Blow” into our top 10 20 whoever’s counting…
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[5.67]
W.B. Swygart: Advanced Dawngeons and Dragons, turn 37, in which Dawn casts Fearless Optimism, intoning “We making all these hiiiits” despite a fairly sizeable lack of supporting evidence. Then again, you don’t become a Dawn Richard fan for the hyper-realism, do you? “Blow” sees our heroine once more gathering herself for battle, regardless of how few people noticed that at least half of Goldenheart and more or less all of Armor On was really, really good; she reassures herself that the fault lies with them, and soldiers on once more into the fog of war. Albeit that she kind of did the same thing a bit better on “Faith.”
[7]
Alfred Soto: Richard hasn’t changed her sound since 2012: clippity-clop percussion, distorted vocals, hook sung into infinity. At the time it bespoke an unusual mix of the ethereal and the practical. But it’s hardened into a manner.
[6]
Iain Mew: She doubles down on carving out her own direction, but we kind of already knew she’d managed that when others going to that territory became identifiably Dawn Richard-like. Or in other words, this makes me wonder if she heard that Ms. D song we covered, because it’s admirable but overstuffed and incoherent in exactly the same way.
[5]
Micha Cavaseno: As time moves on, the ornamental sound that got Dawn noticed is now starting to look a little garish.
[2]
Will Adams: Dawn Richard’s penchant for claustrophobic production consistently lets her down. It’s only appropriate that on “Blow” she can’t be bothered to stick to an idea for more than forty seconds.
[4]
Katherine St Asaph: Takes on “Blow,” in increasing order of plausibility: 1. Best. Ke$ha. Remix. Ever. 2. Richard dismantling accusations that Goldenheart and its sound was primarily Druski’s invention (despite the fact that, given Goldenheart‘s commercial performance and the fact that I’ve only heard it implied in critical scuttlebutt, the net effect couldn’t have been more than, like, two sales). 3. A slow-motion glass explosion, mostly compelling for how controlled it is. 4. Basically just “Wild ‘N Faith” again.
[7]
Brad Shoup: The track’s so sturdy — all detonated drums and scrambled chants — that Richard feels free to distend her vocal shape, scattering herself all over the scale. As a sense-document, this is pretty great: a perfect out-of-mind experience. It still turns my headphones to sludge.
[6]
Anthony Easton: This strange, floating, almost liquid discussion of desire and gender is less of a grab toward relevance and more of a negotiated shrug — why do I need to prove that I am the Queen, when it should be plainly obvious? Extra points for the robots and the handclaps.
[8]
Cédric Le Merrer: Dawn Richard’s been about to blow for quite a while now, and for the first few listen I thought she had lost what I loved the most about her as a performer: her focus. The kitchen sink beat is too clever for its own good, and the proclamation of about-to-blowness is so repetitive and under-mixed as to become a haze. Which I finally decided must be the point: you’d have to be pretty delusional to think you’re about to conquer the mainstream with this kind of arty stoner R&B. So “Blow” sounds more to me like an indictment of the delusional idea of blowing up that’s animating so many artists, to the point that their braggadocio all melts in the same desperate cry for a success that will inevitably elude most of them.
[6]