Consider our wigs sniggidy-snatched.
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[7.57]
Josh Langhoff: First and foremost, this is a great sinister-goofy Das EFX tribute. Sharaya’s hot — woooh! — and she’ll mess you up with every weapon at her disposal, including a murmuring chorus of Sharayas that changes the texture of verse three. Video and choreography are also something else. But then, during the chorus, there’s this: “You don’t really wanna come smiling in my face.” Sharaya time travels a decade and a half before Das EFX, into the ’60s hangover of “Don’t Call Me Brother” and “Back Stabbers,” where “the smile, handshake and pat on the back… become things to fear, temporary placations mollifying rage and resentment until the inevitable u-turn, retraction and cutback comes.” (That’s Peter Shapiro writing for The Wire, in a smart taxonomy called “Smiling Faces Sometimes.”) With all this brouhaha leading up to the U.S. government shutdown, did anyone else notice how smiley those Republican legislators are? They really, sincerely want to avoid this, and it doesn’t have to be this way, if only President Obama would heed the will of the American people — a nonstop refrain that apparently excludes Obama, me, and anyone else who’ll benefit from more accessible health care. If anyone deserves to get smashed up… But then Sharaya’s somewhere else, sublimating my rage into her own good humored flow and dance moves. Two can play the smiling faces game; I hope I’m on Sharaya’s side.
[8]
Jer Fairall: A Missy protégée, Sharaya resembles her elder in both her confident, forthright flow and in the track’s perverse, creeping minimalism. The latter remains the reason for listening right now, as this maddeningly hypnotic groove insinuates itself on the brain even more effectively than the sass of her lyrical hooks. The rest will most assuredly come, though; this might be the most promising rap debut of 2013.
[7]
Anthony Easton: That slinky Jacob’s ladder, steel spine of the initial beat, and the lyrics — with their hints at spiritual cum children’s song cum anthem of material excess, is just gorgeous and easy — sliding like greased palms and Le Mer face cream.
[9]
Alfred Soto: Her deep, crinkled delivery sounds ever so slightly like Fantasia, which led me to envision a Fantasia-Sharaya collaboration. But Sharaya’s talent for boring down into every linguistic possibility of a rhyme is her own.
[7]
Brad Shoup: “Banji” was an ideal introduction, multipartite in production (courtesy of Missy, who shouldn’t have anything to prove at this point) and vocal approach. “Smash Up the Place” has the sorta-patois on the hook and a Das EFX homage so pronounced it’d give the originals viggidy-vertigo. She drops that look for the last verse, and even though the wordplay doesn’t hit, the addition of muttering and whoops in the background make it a more interesting place to be.
[5]
Edward Okulicz: You can hear Missy’s influence, and “Smash Up The Place” works in the same way as some of Missy’s best singles (that whining electrical cricket chirp that powers the track performs the same function as a similar squelch on “Work It,” for instance), but it’s not a clone of any of them. The hook of the chorus isn’t outstanding on its own, but the schlocky production — though that sinister bassline needs to be louder — makes it perfectly good treading water until another mouthful of sass. And what sass; the verses, from asides and shades like “you just lukewarm” or “Battle me, never/No way, heifer” to the repeated “iggidy” inserts, are wonderful showcases for Sharaya’s inexhaustible and taunting tongue.
[8]
Rebecca A. Gowns: Although there have been many contenders, Sharaya J could end up being the true heir to Missy Elliot’s throne — a position that she has not only been coached into by Elliot herself, but one that she also embodies seemingly effortlessly, forging her rapping and dancing with clean breaks and sharp lines. She’s bringing a lot into this on her end, and her talent tends to outshine the teetering-towards-obnoxious car alarm beat. The dance break and extra verse at the end really bring it to the next level; so much so, that I kinda wish that this was the majority of the song and not the other way around. As it is, it’s a walk across hot pavement that ends in a frontflip splash into a pool.
[9]