What do you call a duet of which you can only understand half?
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[5.00]
Iain Mew: It bothers me more than usual that I can’t find a translation here. I would love to know what Money Aujla’s side of the Desinglish love tale is, and whether he goes to London and somehow counters Nesdi Jones’ wide-eyed and patronising tourist act. The song’s sense of calm, the romantic flourishes of piano and the way they seamlessly slide into the upbeat sections are beautiful enough that I’m almost swept along, but even as half-stories go it’s an especially unsatisfying one to me as is.
[6]
Anthony Easton: Not really a case of too many cooks, because that would suggest a heavy spice quotient, but it’s good to know after decades of bhangra-influenced beats and several M.I.A. albums, Anglo-Indian music can be as bland as this.
[3]
Alfred Soto: The keyboard and tabla groove is as hypnotic as these things get, and Jones’ ejaculations are well timed. “Everything’s so beautiful,” she sings, a Londoner on a day of rare sunlight, on her way to meet friends for brunch.
[7]
Scott Mildenhall: There’s an unfortunate difficulty to finding a translation of this online, and that means the only understandable lines are the ones letting it down. Nesdi Jones’ parts just fail to ride along the track like Aujla’s do, occasionally jabbing out of it, almost distorted. It’s the only thing blemishing the overall subtlety; a better hook singer could improve it markedly.
[4]
Daniel Montesinos-Donaghy: Honey Singh certainly crafts something that rattles and roams with his track for “London”, each piano-led traipse and dhadd upturn ringing out in full stereo. Matter of fact, that’s all “London” has, a looped track that distracts you from its laziness with its loveliness. Somebody could have paid the proper attention to Jones’ vocals, clipping and nullifying any momentum Aujla picks up. At one point, Aujla appears impressed at the concept of momentum itself and tests it to its limits by simply not stopping. Singh needs to put his foot down — something this pleasingly shallow requires the lightest of touches, not the lumbering present here.
[4]
David Sheffieck: The production could use something to push it to another level – like maybe anything besides that piano, which starts to grate after a while. But the vocals are the main attraction here: splitting the track between Punjabi and English essentially allows Aujla and Jones each their own set of hooks, and they both take full advantage of the union.
[6]
Megan Harrington: Yo Yo Honey Singh contributes the music and its story. Pagrat Singh, the song’s lyrics. Money Aujla and Nesdi Jones, the vocals. With each new set of fingerprints is an opportunity to loosen the song’s center, a chance that it will end up a pile of clippings or a blur of smooth edges. Aujla and Jones find the chemistry between the song’s characters and convincingly sell their love story, forgiving a few cramped lines and an over-performed note at the midway point. The piano ballad is the song’s most blandly familiar element, but without any instrumental passages, it’s forgettable instead of intrusive.
[6]
Brad Shoup: Aujla doesn’t have the most expressive voice, but he’s heaven next to Jones’s affectlessness, which works way too well with the establishing-shot piano paddle. It’s not a crossover. It’s barges passing in the night.
[4]