Yes, I would wear ALL these boas.
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[6.00]
Jonathan Bogart: Yvonne Darcq is a French citizen of Malian and Sudanese ancestry who makes her home in Nairobi; Victoria Kimani is a US citizen of Kenyan ancestry who does the same. For my money, they’re the most exciting players in the Kenyan pop scene, which is small and underfunded compared to the Nigerian and South African juggernauts of Anglophone African pop. You wouldn’t guess that they were underdogs from this, though; Darcq’s cosmopolitan French and Kimani’s Destiny’s Child attitude breeze right past hungry, or even maneating, into world-devouring.
[9]
Katherine St Asaph: Simultaneously answers the questions “What if Bey was on ‘Big Pimpin’?” and “Was Goldfrapp’s ‘Ooh La La’ really that special?”
[5]
Alfred Soto: Charming trifle garnished with flute solo and a Janelle Monae approach to harmonies and percussion.
[5]
Cédric Le Merrer: Victoria Kimani’s effortless performance easily upstages the staid beat and Yvonne Darcq’s more labored sensuality.
[5]
Edward Okulicz: I’m a big fan of languages rubbing up against each other, and of hand-claps and the sensuous retro’n’b of the production here. So many good ingredients, and both singers are charismatic, so it’s a shame that the actual hook is such a flat-out nothing, and all the sex and sizzle immediately vanishes on that titular line.
[5]
Thomas Inskeep: A seriously sexy R&B duet; the little snake-charmer motif makes me wanna learn how to belly dance for my man. Darcq and Kimani’s voices sound marvelous both together and separately (Darcq sings her verses in French, Kimani in English) and the hand-clap beat brings back memories of R&B circa 2000, which we need more of. This is my jam and a half right now.
[9]
Patrick St. Michel: I’m generally in favor of artists bouncing between languages over the course of a single song, but sometimes it just doesn’t click. This is one such time, as the English verses are awkward exercises in rhyming and detract from an otherwise pleasant number.
[4]
Brad Shoup: That chorus is really bad, like a placeholder for something more suited to the languid piano chords that eventually show up. But I like the aggressively artificial production: the clops and zips you once heard on an American R&B ladies-night anthem they don’t make anymore.
[6]