Multi-credit day ends with the return of a 2016 favourite…
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[7.50]
Kat Stevens: In the video, a woman of advanced years is lured up to the top deck of a Routemaster to join Nadia and the gang in a rave up. I judge her curiosity was piqued by that ‘bwpbwpbwpbwp’ semi-muffled phaser-gun noise, AKA The Other Noise In Jungle That’s Not The Amen Break. I also judge that the woman was slightly disappointed to find that once she got up there, the song wasn’t actually jungle at all, but that it was still banging enough to risk a) hitting her head on the ceiling and b) embarrassing herself in front of The Kids by telling them that in her day you were still allowed to smoke on the top deck AND the windows opened properly.
[8]
Alfred Soto: I so did not need the boom-boom-boom vocal hook and the world didn’t need it, not when you’ve got Nadia Rose.
[5]
Jonathan Bogart: The dialectical tension between colonial historicism and emergent pirate-turned-respectable dance consciousness creates a complex matrix of relation– BOOM BOOM BOOMBOOMBOOM.
[8]
Iain Mew: Nadia Rose gives another great first half-verse, enthuastically announces she’s off her face, and then it’s a drunken whirl of release all the way, messy but a lot of fun.
[7]
Will Adams: I can’t help but hear this as the prequel to “Rinse & Repeat.” Here, the night is in full swing, and though there’s known danger (“I’m off my face”), there’s no other objective than to crank it. The many percussive layers reflect that moment when, somehow, being packed in a room of strangers just feels right. Everyone gives themselves to the music and, for better or worse, they’re only thinking of the present.
[8]
Peter Ryan: “Skwod” might be more quotable or technically impressive, but Nadia Rose knows how to deploy her it-factor — the sly giggle at 1:42, modulations on “I get high/then I drop it loow” — and this is further proof that any party she throws will be better than yours. It’s her show, but everyone else is putting in ace work too — Sweetie Irie relishes in his elder-hype-man role, and Kideko & George Kwali furnish a quietly pulverizing backing with one hell of an animatronic vocal hook (but then, everything’s a hook). It’s dancefloor chemistry at its best.
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