Here’s hoping Billboard hears Megan’s prayer.
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[5.90]
Elisabeth Sanders: Where Electra Heart was all bleeding silicone, Froot has been so far a much more organic near-rotting kind of thing, dealing with death not with cold rending nails but with solid heat. This all seems like me making a really dumb fruit metaphor, but the album’s called that for a reason; it’s about something much more soft and alive than Electra Heart was, containing horror not in the threat of shattered glass but in the way any ripeness carries with it a reminder of death. The Marina of “I’m a Ruin” is not the Marina of “How to be a Heartbreaker,” though both Marinas know they’re causing pain. The Marina of “How to be a Heartbreaker” deals with that pain by shellacking her insides away and making it all feel intentional and organized; the Marina of “I’m a Ruin” confronts something confusing and tender inside herself that feels like it’s spreading rot to everything it touches. I’m a ruin, I’ma ruin you. It’s not exactly self-hatred, nor is it healing. It’s a lush beat and vocals with a solid thread of high broken regret. It’s it isn’t right; it’s I wanna be free. It’s it’s difficult.
[7]
Edward Okulicz: Hits that sweet spot of lacerating pity as a couple of her best songs (“Rootless” and “I Am Not a Robot”) and then, incongruously, puts in a bunch of “ooh” and “yeah” parts that seem more suited to a hypothetical gay disco-friendly remix. Don’t tell me one of them isn’t incoming, Marina. I don’t believe it and I don’t understand but I don’t hate it.
[7]
Anthony Easton: The coy wryness and implied self esteem on that line about being smart is almost as immersive as how she sings “ruin.” The narrative of desire and sexual hunger move in and out of a gorgeous set of abstract production and onomatopoetic syllables that hint more than they deliver; they have an obscure beauty: a hiding in plain sight that works well with formalist camo.
[9]
Alfred Soto: Characterizing herself as a masochist reluctant to say goodbye and guilty of the things she’s accused of, Marina’s voice pushes at its upper limits as if willing her prayers to ascend to an indifferent god. The inoffensive production is way too on the nose.
[4]
Luisa Lopez: Marina’s sad songs always sound like the closing credits of a movie that can’t quite bring itself to end.
[3]
Cédric Le Merrer: Because she’s been so obsessed with fame and success from day one, I’m always tempted to read Marina’s love songs is as adressed not to a lover but to her audience. “Froot” was a defiant “why the fuck didn’t you guys make Electra Heart platinum?” “Happy” was her realizing having a reasonably sized, unreasonably devoted audience may be a good thing. Does that makes “I’m a Ruin” a breakup/warning to the mainstream audience? How punk. I hear the potential for a good to great song, but her usual vocal hoop jumps might have added some welcome contrasts to a muddled performance (by her standards). And she doesn’t make a case for being a ruin, lyrically or otherwise.
[5]
Micha Cavaseno: I’m not certain that this song is much of a warning about ruination from anyone’s future. After all, the beat is devoid of strength and identity, but Marina’s present, a bit too ready to welcome. Siren‘s songs aren’t exactly meant to say “Oh, I’m not really looking for this” from my perspective. On a song so malnourished, though, it might not lure anyone in at all.
[3]
Katherine St Asaph: The particular blend of ennui, despair and toolish-feeling that comes of staying in a relationship whose exit you’ve planned is undertraveled ground for songwriting, but this does nothing for me that Bat for Lashes’ “All Your Gold” doesn’t do better, and I can’t quite tell why. I want to say it’s Marina’s choirgirl hollowness, but you could level that charge at Natasha Khan too. Maybe Marina is abstract where Khan is concrete. Maybe the song is just worse.
[4]
Brad Shoup: How wonderful it is to not believe a word Marina and the Diamonds sing — and to finally love it.
[9]
Megan Harrington: I can’t wait for “I’m a Ruin” to push “Lips Are Movin'” to the ground and sit in its retro-leaning Top-40 heavy rotation throne. That’s right, literally. I’m sending this blurb via psychic transmission in the midst of a maniacal race to the president of Clear Channel’s sleeping chambers. Yes, I can’t wait even a fraction of a second longer to see “I’m a Ruin” top the Billboard Hot 100 or my corporeal body will explode. I literally must guarantee this song’s hit status if I’m going to see tomorrow. Don’t let me die!
[8]