The German group, not Our Lady of Truffled Fries…
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[7.11]
Sabina Tang: “I love to fly without a parachute,” sings Mieze. “I love it when everything gets thrown at me,” biting off the alles as if into crisp fruit. In the background, synths and guitars crackle like fireworks, and crisp snares call to adventure.
[8]
Brad Shoup: I love returning to the mother tongue. And I love chiming backing vocals that don’t involve the lead singer. Mieze Katz handles vowels with care; whether it’s a consequence of the language or her particular approach (I have no real idea), the consonants on most of her lines are wonderfully softened. Muscled bass and that fakebook drumbeat stake out a minor-key space for reflection, the depressurization after a long journey. The chorus is where she goes on a flight of remembrance. Katz’ bandmates join her towards the end, chanting “fliege ohne fallschirm” — “without a parachute” — bringing the whole thing to bliss.
[9]
Katherine St Asaph: The lyrics suggest a German “Miss Independent” (if it’s too poppy a comparison, that’s only because you mightn’t have heard Allison Crowe), and they’re a lot alike, both songs made of ice-crusted verses that melt into joy. This is surprisingly hard to do right. The main pitfall is a chorus too saccharine, but MIA sidesteps this by letting the guitar tense up beneath the mix and by letting Mieze really — let’s say savor her performance. Those reverbed handclaps alone should shame everyone infecting our charts with synth-patch cheapola; the bridge that replaces them should remind them what really calls for headphones.
[8]
Alfred Soto: With vocals surging and cresting all over the place, punctuated by unidentified grunts and coos, the backing track has little to do – and does quite a bit. Imagine “Mickey” sung by Yoko.
[6]
Jer Fairall: ’80s signifiers abound, from an intro that promises “Take On Me” (or, alternately, threatens “Footloose“) to the singer’s Annabella Lwin-like squeal. Unfortunately, all that really means for me is that when the keyboard hook from “99 Luftballoons” fails to kick in, I’m mildly disappointed.
[6]
Anthony Easton: Cut the first two or three minutes from this track; around 2:36, the snare drums snap into something resembling a hand clap, and Mieze strains to be heard over them. Add to that problem a lovely and profoundly artificial keyboard phrase, and it works towards something interesting — but never quite gets there. The song ends suddenly and starts anemically, but it tries.
[6]
Michaela Drapes: Aesthetically, it seems that the Cold War never ended for MIA. This sounds like the kind of perfect post-punk gem generated from hours of listening to Radio Free Europe and Armed Forces Radio on the sly, perhaps. That swingy bassline, the Bjork-circa-Sugarcubes yelp, the sufficiently hubristic love story — it’s charmingly retro in all the right ways to my ears.
[7]
Iain Mew: I love the combination of the crisp snap of the drums, the cute little jittery synth line, and Mieze Katz serene and commanding above all of it. At least she is until the backing vocals start to make things more conflicted, the drums hammering away start to sound menacing, and she steps up the passion, ditching words in places for wordless exclamations including a great final “mrow!” There’s no single moment when the transformation occurs, which allows it to sneak in its unexpected emotion all the better. It’s my favourite MIA. single since “Tanz der Moleküle” and “Zirkus” turned me on to them back in the Stylus Jukebox days.
[8]
Jonathan Bogart: The interlocking parts work like the proverbial clockwork, leaving Mieze Katz to provide any forward momentum. She’s game, but overmatched, and the instruments have to be mixed down and their impact blunted in order to match her. Still, there’s enough sproingy melody that indiscriminate listeners (like me) can enjoy themselves while it lasts.
[6]