Alfred gets saucy…
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[6.71]
Alfred Soto: Hey, girl, that’s a fat-ass synth bass! And those vocals — Kylie and Eighth Wonderwill wonder how the hell you stole a master tape. But about those vocals…they’re not comme il fault in the charisma department, n’est-ce pas?
[4]
Brad Shoup: Ooh, that filthy baroque bass roil. Paradis doesn’t need to do much beyond breathe.
[7]
Scott Mildenhall: Appropriating the “Pull Up To The Bumper” riff was canny. As well as patently being great, it sounds somewhat lascivious, and the association with the song it’s from only heightens the effect. That said, free of its original context it doesn’t sound half as crude — Grace Jones was commanding in her single entendres; Paradis a mere coquette in comparison. More lustrous than lustful, “Love Song” is actually the kind of track that would lend itself well to interminable hula hooping.
[8]
Patrick St. Michel: An incredibly slinky number that jumps up a point thanks to the brief-but-beautiful interlude that pops up around the 1:50 mark. It’s a nice moment of strangeness in a song otherwise committed to one (catchy!) idea.
[7]
Daniel Montesinos-Donaghy: Paradis heroically navigates the blocky patterns of “Love Song”, her focus unflappable through layers of arpeggiated Andy Ridgeley guitars, noirish string sections, mountainous synths, police sirens — the lot. She appears cool, suave, perfectly in control. It’s more tunnel vision than control judging from the way she describes falling in love — it uproots, bludgeons like a sledgehammer and leaves you wanting. As the chorus spools itself out over the song’s final moments, police sirens follow Paradis into the dark, as though her love is a criminal act or something to be legitimately wary of. She sounds deep in a state of folie à deux. She is well aware of this, however, shrugging off the madness: “I don’t know nothing about love, you know.”
[8]
Anthony Easton: Though losing a lover is not the same as losing a job, maybe Paradis can call Carine Roitfeld to discuss the nature of creative art post-loss, especially in one’s silver years.
[6]
Katherine St Asaph: It’s damn fortunate Paradis undersings this. The track was overfull with sounds before the police sirens; any more weight on the vocals would just crush all these overbearing, compelling parts.
[7]