…… nah, the joke’s too easy.
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[4.00]
Brad Shoup: When they let the disco ride, it feels like the Gimp got out of the chest. Is pummeling a trick? How about blackouts?
[6]
Anthony Easton: Can I give this points entirely for the overwhelming delight I find in the consonance of the artists and the title — the soft sound of the l, kicked out by that jarring k sound reinforced by the the sputtering t — and just when you hope to recover, a cacophony of similar hard sounds, the spit of k’s and s’s and x’es, with the only relief those syllabent s’s that do not even have the time or energy to hiss. That the track matches this energy with no rest, the rise with no fall, the crescendo that refuses to end any kind of climax, is a kind of dry hump, a priapic fuck with no release, sort of like the Viagra-induced opposite of limp dick.
[3]
Iain Mew: The noise bits aren’t disruptive enough to be thrilling but still form a blockage which the tune isn’t quite flexible enough to get past. I don’t know if its compromise brought on by collaboration that causes the awkwardness, but this feels like it’s constantly tripping over itself.
[3]
Alex Ostroff: Kaskade’s disco build + Skrillex’s farty buzzsaw = a farty disco construction whose makers’ respective strengths spend more time undercutting each other than building each other up. The component parts are nice enough, but the end result is a track that has neither an epic disco breakdown nor a climactic WUBWUBWUBWUBWUB moment.
[3]
Alfred Soto: Best when it understands the histrionic and symphonic, best expressed when the collaborators pick out a keyboard melody a minute and a half into the production.
[6]
Jonathan Bradley: If Skrillex has any appeal, it’s in the careening anarchy of his fractured bass drops. I don’t see the point in setting them amongst the tidy confines of slick commercial house.
[4]
Katherine St Asaph: Marginally better than the mental image of Skrillex and Kaskade licking things. That’s no compliment.
[3]