#1 in Denmark, not that that counts for much round here these days…

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Mallory O’Donnell: Topped the charts in Denmark, you say? In other Danish chart-related news, Aqua apparently still exist.
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Asher Steinberg: Until I heard this song, I had no idea that there were Danish women who sang like dopey French women who sing on the soundtracks of dopey Sundance Film Festival films. Sorry, Denmark, for culturally stereotyping you all these years as an idyllic land of tow-headed Abba acolytes. Clearly I was mistaken.
[3]

Josh Langhoff: An actual Danish speaker would no doubt blow this interpretation for me, but I hear it as a girl’s adventure to her First Club, a mythic land of shiny strobey sensory overload that, until now, has only existed inside her imagination. Her voice betrays little emotion because she’s too busy wrapping her brain around this new reality. She’s so overwhelmed by the strange gyrating people and deafening music, the sticky floor and the way her own body responds to it all, it’ll be at least a week before she knows whether the whole experience was a euphoric fulfillment or a disappointment or some other category she never knew existed. Pretty soon she’ll notice that The Club smells like vomit cleaner-upper while some shmuck asks her to admire his rims. But I like to think that even Luda — who I SWEAR she mentions in the chorus — started his club career with such wide-eyed wonder.
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Katherine St Asaph: All I wanna do, is chill out and dissipate.
[5]

Iain Mew: There’s something a bit Joan As Policewoman about (I assume) Alberte’s singing here. It’s soulful and commanding but with a touch of compelling uncertaintly which sneaks in in places over the course of the song. That’s probably the highlight, but the seamless way the whole thing it’s structured is excellent too – it stays remarkably consistent in mood while slowly unfurling as new elements slip in unnoticed then proceed to shift its course towards intriguing new places.
[8]

Ian Mathers: The intro to this feels barely there, and the rest of the track isn’t actually all that much more present, in the most wonderful way; in fact, “Min Klub Først” is least compelling precisely when the vocals and that little digital wibble present themselves most forcefully. It’s when the song almost floats away on the breeze that it’s most compelling.
[8]

Alex Ostroff: “Min Klub Først” isn’t quite balearic but it takes me to the same headspace. The gentle throb of the beat, the light touches of acoustic guitar and Alberte’s voice combine into a gorgeous track, which soothes me as much as it compels me to dance. Plus, my brain has an urge to fill the empty spaces with the Lambada riff from “On the Floor“.
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