The follow-up to “The Chorus,” soon to be followed by “The Key Change…”
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[6.22]
Alfred Soto: Kelela has moved from the dance floor to post-coital morning-afters in dim rooms. Her albums are the equivalent of Céline Sciamma films, all indigos and purples. It moves — slowly. “The Bridge” spans two potentially interesting countries, neither one of which is clear through the mist.
[5]
Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: Kelela is one of my favorite artists of the past decade; Pink is the clear defining pop star of my last year or so. Yet this leaves me slightly cold! “The Bridge” is a bridge median between their two styles, but I love their respective work when they find the extremes; this is neither as icy and stately as the highs on new avatar nor as frothy and glamorous as those reached in the Fancy That cinematic universe. Instead, this is a cooly anonymous club-set filler; certainly a well-executed example of the form, but not quite up to the exceedingly high standards these two have set.
[6]
Will Adams: The dusky breakbeat is a natural fit for Kelela, who sets the late-nite groove as she does. (Pink, on the other hand, sounds strangely out of place.) But “The Bridge” is more restrained than I’ve come to expect from her. “Don’t be so polite,” she sings. Well, yeah.
[6]
Claire Davidson: There’s an intricacy to the small-scale pop yarns that comprise the PinkPantheress oeuvre, but those narrow sonic containers come with something of a diminutive connotation, a sense that Pink might be prematurely shrinking her artistic scale in order to cultivate an identity. I was heartened, then, to see Kelela challenge Pink by featuring her on “The Bridge,” a plaintive R&B track with a mix considerably moodier than PinkPantheress’s usual fare. The song’s bedrock of fluid bass and simmering keys gives each performer ample space to accentuate their own vocal nuances. Kelela is a natural in this environment, her sultry poise serving as an intuitive grounding force in this supple sonic construction, and PinkPantheress proves a refreshing foil, sounding almost whimsical thanks to the ethereal touches of echo placed on her voice at key moments in the second verse. Yet the song’s lyrical construction actively works against that more reserved atmosphere, the refrains on the hook built on fragmented phrases that force both vocalists to underplay to the point of illegibility. I’d be curious to hear both women perform this song live, where the power of their voices could really be brought to the fore; here, their delivery is muted to the point of evading attention.
[6]
Katherine St. Asaph: Kelela and Pink seem to fundamentally operate at two different tempos as artists. This isn’t literally true — Kelela has certainly done tracks this dextrous, “Rewind” comes to mind — but it feels spiritually true. And this tempo is Pink’s.
[6]
Ian Mathers: Kelela and PinkPantheress both seem effortlessly cool, but in somewhat different ways that I wasn’t sure would cohere together. Joke’s on me because this is as productive and thrilling a meeting of minds as FKA twigs and Oklou had last year.
[8]
Nortey Dowuona: Oscar Scheller, coproducer of this song, has surprisingly co-produced only three songs with collaborative vocalists. One is a slicked-back house bop that has barely any interplay between the two vocalists. One, which also features PinkPantheress, is softer deep hip house that makes up for its lack of interplay with a constantly shifting set of drum patterns, allowing each vocalist to have a place in the song and a showcase for their specific talents. Tellingly, on both songs, Scheller is outweighed by two other producers in the idea, composing and refining stages. On this song, Kelela is the only other credited producer, which means both share support for the crumbly, smooth 2-step drum programming, and both share fault for the vaporous, porous synth pads that are the only support for Kelela and Pink’s voices. Methinks Pink should’ve stepped to the synths herself.
[7]
Oliver Maier: I recently did something stupid and quote-retweeted someone on X, the Everything App, to disagree with them about music. In this case, I was defending Central Cee’s caddish feature on “Nice to Meet You,” arguing that it jars compellingly against PinkPantheress’ obsessive devotion and lends the song a scuzzy extra depth. Few rules in music are absolute, but I enjoy features more when they create a bit of contrast, rather than repackaging whatever the lead artist is already doing. All of this is to say that PinkPantheress in turn doesn’t contribute much to “The Bridge,” cooing inconspicuously over Kelela’s warmed-over garage beat. Whether she is too deferential to her hero to risk going off-piste or just too limited a vocalist to bring a radically different angle I can’t say, but it’s a sleepy second meeting that feels more like stan service than lightning in a bottle.
[5]
Julian Axelrod: After BLACK STAR came out last year, a friend told me she was disappointed by “Kiss Me Thru the Phone pt 2” — not because it was bad, but because the promise of Amaarae and PinkPantheress updating a Soulja Boy classic set atmospheric expectations the song could never meet. “The Bridge” presents a similar issue: If you’re a fan of either artist or their previous collab, how could you not come in expecting pop greatness? This song’s version of greatness is much more muted and diffuse, with its UK garage drums shrouded in fog and Kelela and Pink’s pleas for understanding beamed in from opposite corners of the galaxy. Ironically, the powerhouse pop duet fans are looking for comes right before this in new avatar‘s tracklist. Stream “new life forms” featuring Fousheé for clear skin!
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