UK drum ‘n’ bass singer’s debut single. I think we like it.
[Video][Myspace]
[7.71]
Hazel Robinson: This is really tremendous and has shot itself straight into my favourite songs of the year. Unearthly, intimate, it has the atmosphere of Creep, the aesthetics of William Orbit, some of the messy, threatening proximity of Tori Amos. The sample drags it back together as the echoing verses threaten to destroy it at the seams, and the breathy panic of an obsessive, desperate ache of lust ebbs and flows through it. Spectacular.
[10]
Jonathan Bogart: Remarkable use of space. I have no idea if people who know what these things are called would call this dubstep, but it shares structural similarities to some of the James Blake work I like best, only Delilah can actually sing.
[8]
Brad Shoup: It’s a shame that the Chaka cut-ups could end up the focus, and not the overall spinechill. Aside from a magnificent Woonian keen in the final third, there’s not a lot here I’ve heard this year. The restraint here is magnificent; though the opportunities are present, Delilah and company resist an easy trip-hop lope, a chart-friendly soar, or even a proper Burial. The result is something like gauzy trance, with acres of nightspace for personal reflection.
[10]
Zach Lyon: The more I find myself actively trying to pay attention to this song, the easier it becomes to doze off. Don’t mean to sound like someone who immediately dismisses movies where “nothing happens,” but any appreciation of the prettiness or emotion that’s already there is overrun by anger over the lack of progression.
[3]
Katherine St Asaph: Then go; there’s teasing gratification, and then there’s withholding it entirely. That said, what a tease.
[7]
Iain Mew: The tension in the minimalist verses is incredible, every word a breathless gasp pushing against the building pressure. When the song eventually steps up a gear at the end, it doesn’t quite explode like I hoped, but it’s still captivating stuff.
[7]
Ian Mathers: 40 seconds in, I had the review pretty well written in my head, but “Go” keeps refusing to explode; the end result is like you’ve chopped all the low-ebb bits out of a much longer song and melted them together. I thought her voice was a debit at first, but the way it’s too breathy to be properly sexy (or maybe just a little too desperate) and too piercing for wallpaper suits this weird little song perfectly. It feels a lot like Lumidee’s “Uh Oh,” in that I suspect it’s another one-off classic from a singer inadvertently making the most of a very limited instrument, but good God is it enchanting. Those quiet, late-night burbles could keep me listening all on their own.
[9]