Friday, November 17th, 2017

Kip Moore – More Girls Like You

Hooray another one of these!


[Video][Website]
[4.14]

Rebecca A. Gowns: In all my years of Bible school, the concept that made my skin crawl the most was that woman was made from man, as a gift for man. This song swaggers with the confidence that this special gal was definitely made from this guy’s rib, and that she’s definitely destined to “have a few [more girls]” with him, and that this promise is flattering and not words that will make you jump out of your skin. What makes me sad is that for as many men who think this kind of sentiment is special, there are just as many women who will think it’s special too, not just centuries-old bullshit.
[2]

Katie Gill: Man, what is it with country music and these sort of “this woman makes me want to settle down into domesticity” songs? We’ve got way too many of them already and this brings nothing new to the table. The song’s biggest saving grace is that it’s amazingly short and Moore can at least put a bit of interest and emotion into his take on “you make me want to conform to typical nuclear family domesticity” than some other people can (cough Blake Shelton cough).
[4]

Thomas Inskeep: I really like the lyrical conceit here, where the protagonist of the song sings that he wants to get together with this woman he loves to make “more girls like you.” I supposed it could be read as a come-on, but to my ears this is a celebration of women. Also an asset is Moore’s ridiculously raspy two-packs-a-day voice, which gives his singing of the lyric the slightest edge (and is just plain enjoyable to listen to). We need more well-meaning, economical country songs like this.
[7]

Alfred Soto: An enthusiastic beefcake best known for 2011’s slobbering crossover hit  “Somethin’ ‘Bout a Truck,” Kip Moore has chugged along until now. “More Girls Like You” will convert no one and is dumber than his recent material: if “more girls” were like her, then “she” wouldn’t be special, no? Guys like him are “wild and untamed” like stallions — there’s plenty like him. The video is better because it’s all about how awesome Kip is, whether watching a churro maker in rural Mexico or letting the reader get a looksee at him on a surfboard.
[4]

Ramzi Awn: Moore’s voice attempts to lift this underwhelming riff above country homeostasis and yet his plaintive cry falls on deaf ears. Thank goddess there aren’t more guys like you. 
[2]

Anthony Easton: The delicate introduction, tingling and light, are almost too soft, for a chorus that is by now a chicken fried, rock and roll, Moore trademark. Most of the lyrics are dumb, and it becomes less interesting as the work moves on, but the total commitment to both the guitar theatrics and his leaning on a burred out, broken up voice make the work much more interesting. 
[7]

Ashley John: Moore’s voice is an inescapable thunder in “More Girls Like You.” As he fantasizes about domestic bliss and crafts a template of the woman he wants to force it on, the sandpaper grit of his voice feels unforgiving. “More Girls Like You” sounds like exactly the song that must exist in a world where Blake Shelton is the Sexiest Man Alive, a cringe-worthy second best. 
[3]

Friday, November 17th, 2017

N.E.R.D. ft. Rihanna – Lemon

NEW N.E.R.D. AND RIHANNA!!! …oh.


[Video][Website]
[4.71]

Thomas Inskeep: Apparently the reason there’s been no new music from N.E.R.D. in quite some time is because, collectively, they’ve had no new ideas. This is an incredibly dated mid-’00s track (Pharrell, you can do better!) which is only even a thing because it features Rihanna spitting bars. Which are fine, not exceptional, but okay. The track itself and everything surrounding her drags it down, though. This should be great, but it’s merely adequate, if that.
[4]

Maxwell Cavaseno: Pharrell is most certainly out of ideas and has been such for a long time but I’m horrified to realize that’s the same case for Chad Hugo as well. Anyway, I understand that Rihanna mirroring Pharrell’s cadence is like, supposed to be cool or a powerful statement or something, but in a world of so many female rappers coming up, do we really want to hear Rihanna rap lifelessly just because some people think when she glowers it’s awesome? Not me.
[0]

Will Adams: It’s not as if N.E.R.D.’s last go-round with “Hot-n-Fun” or “Hypnotize U” was anything special, but at least it netted us some great remixes. “Lemon,” unfortunately, is unsalvageable, a pinball machine gone awry. Meanwhile, Rihanna sounds less like she’s rapping and more like she’s just mocking Pharrell, which admittedly earns this a few points.
[3]

Anthony Easton: Two things: a) When he says “bounce,” is he making an argument in favour of a specific style — is it both an aural and a cultural quotation? b) Rihanna seems tired here — the song would seem perfect for her, but she just kind of lazily swans through it. 
[3]

Alfred Soto: The rhythm is oft-kilter enough to evoke K-pop, but it’s good ol’ Pharrell and Chad reminding people that they’ve been recording these amiable timid subversive little tracks for more than fifteen years. But these days they can afford Rihanna, and she shows them what attitude sounds like.
[6]

Nortey Dowuona: Bouncy bass and scattered synth pops seem to bubble up around Pharrell until Rihanna slides into the low-key synth bass popping over the 808s, and a new lone synth line swerves side to side under her and Pharrell’s smooth, goofy flow. It feels both chilling, crazy and smooth all at once. 
[8]

Stephen Eisermann: Pharrell and Chad Hugo have always had an ear for weird, unique beats, but they almost always deliver — “”Lemon”” is no different. The song is littered with the sound of, for lack of a better description, stars that ride the tight percussion throughout. The combination begs to be danced to, even if the verses brush against some political topics (however lightly). Pharrell’s rapping is on point throughout, as to be expected, but Rihanna really shines here, once again showing her versatility as an artist. Rihanna’s rap doesn’t feel contrived or gimmicky, but instead just feels like an additional thing she does well – this may not be Lemonade, but I’ll enjoy it just as much.
[9]

Friday, November 17th, 2017

Joji – Will He

Please break up with all significant others who put arrows through your head, no matter how chill they are.


[Video]
[4.38]

Kalani Leblanc: Joji, riding on the coattails of his Filthy Frank/Pinkguy fame, releases a 3 minute reiteration of “SAD CHILL ANIME BOI” Youtube compilations. The subgenre has been lame since its emergence, so they don’t need a posterboy. His honesty doesn’t excuse the murky and muddy piano looping because neither are effective. Entirely emotionless, though it’s insisting on being something heart wrenching. Joji loves to flex how deep and meaningful his releases are without actually hearing its stale state–or maybe even his songs at all. 
[3]

Maxwell Cavaseno: Oh, Spooky Black. So much to answer for. And so many other forms of lifeless faux & B tracks of dreariness as a cheap substitute for emotive interactions will continue to moan us off into the night, leaving us with nobody willing to be held accountable for once for their words or for what they’ve enabled.
[1]

Tim de Reuse: The self-obsessed self-sorry numbness of it crystallizes into something affecting in a few scattered lines (The disaffected “Will he treat you like shit just the way that I did?” chief among them) but for the most part it’s shallow and cartoonish; our narrator sings in a tired groan, mopes through somber piano tinkling, seems less a sympathetic schmuck and more like someone who needs to shut up, go home, get some sleep, and get over it.
[4]

Alfred Soto: From the depths of his self-absorption — signified by the filtered piano, trip-hop beat, and Nebraska harmonies — Joji stirs some semblance of anger. If “Will He” has novelty, it’s in how it stays connected to bitterness. Brevity helps too.
[5]

Ryo Miyauchi: Faint vocals of “Will He” leak into the nocturne pianos like a conversation from the neighboring room. The separation between the music and lyrics gets in the way of the two fully coming together, but eavesdropping upon such naked, private matters is an unnerving experience in itself.
[5]

Anjy Ou: I find the music video an odd pairing with the song. Sure, you get the sense that Joji isn’t “just [making] sure you’re okay”, but any rage or anger expressed in the lyrics is muted, almost as if underwater; the sparse production gives the impression of depths to which light can’t reach. It sounds like a sensory deprivation tank, or the bottom of the ocean – deep and dark and heavy and lonely, no sound except that of your own breath, and your heartbeat. 
[7]

Nortey Dowuona: Soft, understated piano drifts atop flat 808s as Joji desperately pleads for his ex to give him thumbs up about her new boo. Somehow this is less loathsome. Maybe it’s Joji being a much better singer?
[6]

Will Adams: Vibe in search of a song.
[4]

Thursday, November 16th, 2017

Kalash ft. Damso – Mwaka Moon

Dreamy French rap! About a dick! (And also, mostly, other things).


[Video]
[6.00]

Katherine St Asaph: Perils of looking up a translation: learning that the drifty instrumental is accompanied by lines like “Life is hard, like my dick.”
[5]

Rebecca A. Gowns: Dreamy French rap, with a bridge/outro that sounds like wandering into the catacombs.
[7]

Anjy Ou: On the surface, this is a regular trap song. Languidly delivered braggadocio, mentions of sex, violence, expensive cars, drugs — standard fare. Hidden between all that, however, is the tale of two artists with a stubborn desire to succeed in a world built to crush them. Kalash is originally from Martinique, and Damso from the DRC — it’s extremely significant that this song has gotten to #1 in France at a time when most of Europe is rejecting migrants, and neo-nazis are resurfacing. The multi-layered lyrics (thank you Google Translate), particularly from Damso, subtly refer to racial and class tensions in Europe, and position the rappers as the victors in the end, though not without those experiences taking their toll. The music video paints the song as an Afro-futuristic superhero story, the rappers kings on a stark, moonlike landscape. One translator has determined “mwaka” to refer to Kalash’s West Indian heritage. But “mwaka” is also a Kiswahili word that means “time” or “season.” This song feels like a message to black and brown people across the globe: “our time has come.”
[8]

Nortey Dowuona: Average raps from Kalash and solid raps from Damso, heavy, hangdog keys over popping yet waterlogged drums.
[5]

Alfred Soto: The Linn drum rattles complement a burrowing, kinetic little rap that is more powerful when the percussion falls out ever so slightly.
[6]

Crystal Leww: Plods along like any Future deep cut would. It’s not bad, but I’m not too thrilled with either Future’s career direction nor “Mwaka Moon” if I’m being honest.
[5]

Ryo Miyauchi: “Mwaka Moon” resembles what Travis Scott’s trap lullabies might sound before he dunks them into the deep-fryer of after effects. Processed ad libs still warp the track, but otherwise the clean lines of both the beat and the flows impress enough to set it somewhat apart from a much aped formula.
[6]

Thursday, November 16th, 2017

Helene Fischer – Achterbahn

Why yes, I would like some Europop with many many “sh” sounds, thanks.


[Video][Website]
[5.43]

Nortey Dowuona: Nice synths, flat drums, pedestrian bass and piano from 2012. Also, Helene’s singing feels too insubstantial…or just too low for this cotton candy production.
[4]

Alfred Soto: The market for this chugging instance of Europop will never shrivel, no matter how modish (trop house accents, what else is new).
[5]

Ian Mathers: The whole thing feels a little… airless. Squeaky clean. Like it’s just about to take off but never really makes it. It’s pleasant enough while it plays, but fades near instantly once its done.
[5]

Kat Stevens: I have a phobia of the physical sensation of non-uniform acceleration, viz. planes, lifts that go too fast, going over speed bumps when I’m not the person driving, space travel, inner ear infections and of course rollercoasters. Having watched this self-help video I had felt more equipped to handle both the metaphorical version (by repeating meaningless mantras to myself) and the literal version (by sticking my hands out as wide as possible to increase drag and reduce speed) but “Acterbahn”‘s empty plodding beat and inane synth hook has undone all that hard work, and I’m right back to cowering in a corner hugging my knees. 
[2]

Dorian Sinclair: I looked up Helene Fischer to confirm she’d had formal voice training, but honestly sometimes you just know. That’s both a good and bad thing — I’m a classically-trained singer myself, but it’s a style that sometimes sits uneasy with the expectations of a pop song. Here, though, it works, and she manages to capture a real sense of yearning even against the aggressively upbeat accompaniment.
[8]

Edward Okulicz: While I count down the weeks until Eurovision pre-selections take place, this clean, clinical German schlager dance-pop number will make some of the minutes go a little quicker. Fischer is totally slumming it in surroundings this cheap, but sometimes I down an alcopop and dance to low quality pap, and why shouldn’t the artist enjoy it too? And that inhuman squall throughout the track is like a disco version of the end of M83’s “Midnight City” or Sofia de la Torre’s “Vermillion,” which I love.
[7]

Alex Clifton: A delightfully big, EDM/Eurovision-y number that feels exactly how it sounds. I’m a sucker for bright, spangly pop, and this delivers in spades. Helene Fischer’s voice is resoundingly clear over the electronic background; her delivery is polished, but it’s lovely to listen to something and get the feeling from it without needing an exact translation. This is the sort of song where I can imagine going to the club and feeling the world fall away for three minutes while screaming along (in really butchered German). I’m not sure if this is actually as good as I think it is, or if I’ve just felt so starved for enthusiastic, escapist pop; either way, I find myself wonderstruck. If the world’s on fire, I’ll dance to this in the flames. 
[7]

Thursday, November 16th, 2017

Seyi Shay ft. Eugy & Efosa – Your Matter

That must be some matter if someone’s willing to die for it.


[Video][Website]
[6.29]

Anjy Ou: One enduring feature of afropop/afrobeats/whatever we’re calling West African contemporary music this year is the driving, incessant beats that make everybody go “ayyyyyy” and migrate to the dancefloor. “Your Matter” turns this into a metaphor for obsessive love. The bass-heavy production is dark and eerie, and Seyi Shay’s light tone and punctuated vocal delivery works really well in contrast. Eugy comes in as your stereotypical male protagonist in your afrobeats song: swamped with women who want his money, revelling in the attention without realizing he’s actually the one wrapped around her little finger. In the end it’s Seyi Shay who shines the brightest, with Eugy only reflecting her brilliance.
[7]

Nortey Dowuona: Smooth, pulsing bass, grooving drums, soft, dribbling synths as Seyi smoothly curls through the bass, Eugy rolls through all chilled and fresh and Efosa purrs cooly in the back.
[8]

Tim de Reuse: The circular four-chord motif very quickly gets fatiguing. With no real sense of movement other than very light swells during the hook, the instrumental is a dull blur that the verses themselves have a very hard time punching through. The one thing that works here is the hook, where Shay’s crisp repetition of the title bounces back and forth between stereo channels, in rhythmic counterplay against those unceasing dotted-eighth snares.
[4]

Ryo Miyauchi: While the passionate back-and-forth between Seyi Shay and Eugy is nowhere casual, “Your Matter” sounds rather reserved especially for a song with such a tragic love written in the chorus: “die for your matter.” But its delicateness, both from Shay’s dance and the beat’s rich, airy pads, allures enough to eavesdrop into the conversation.
[6]

Alfred Soto: Echoes of LL Cool J’s “Doin’ It” if not Grace Jones’ “My Jamaican Guy” are strong: a dub-dancehall hybrid, nothing particularly interesting without Seyi’s improvisations.
[5]

Maxwell Cavaseno: The balearic tinges of the production on “Your Matter” might be the least prominent yet the most interesting things about the song. Seyi, Eugy and Efosa are certainly present but never manage to make themselves feel vital on the record, as so many of those sparkling synth-notes manage to ease past their contributions like a ghostly avalanche. It’s a soft, plaintive sort of lover’s jam that rolls off with little impact but no damage in its wake.
[6]

Stephen Eisermann: I’m a sucker for a good Afrobeat song and “Your Matter” is no different. Seyi Shay’s singing is entrancing, employing a more staccato-heavy style of singing which heightens the sense of urgency and passion; I believe that I matter because Seyi’s convinced me of that. Eugy and Eofsa also do a terrific job of going along with the flow of the track, never interrupting the sexiness and vibe of it all, while delivering compelling bars of their own.  
[8]

Thursday, November 16th, 2017

MGMT – Little Dark Age

Time to pretend that this band aren’t kind of annoying, eh eh eh?


[Video][Website]
[4.50]

Scott Mildenhall: “I AM 80’S ROBOT; I FIND IT HARD TO FEEL; MY PASTICHE IS REALLY ARCH; BUT BELIEVE ME PLEASE I’M REAL”. Something like that anyway. “Little Dark Age” thrives on the clash of rigidity and groove, and the equivalent deadpanning of abstract, but somehow lucid lines like “I grieve in stereo.” If MGMT were a new band again, the promise would be rather exciting, but in this reality of how that sometimes turns out, it nevertheless recaptures some of the magic.
[8]

Katie Gill: They really want you to forget “Kids”, don’t they. With “Little Dark Age”, MGMT gives us a deliberate throwback, with obvious Cure stylings (both musically and aesthetically) mixed with more Human League synths. It’s delightfully dark but definitively derivative. MGMT don’t really give us something more than the influences.
[6]

Nortey Dowuona: Flat, unmoving synth bass. Empty, flat drums. Ringing, raspy synths. And, well… singing, I guess.
[2]

Alfred Soto: Last time these fools parlayed their canned psychedelia into enervated electronic structures. Dreaming in stereo, giddy with delight, images of the dead getting in their minds, MGMT march into the past, angling for a meditative state that eludes them.
[4]

Ian Mathers: The problem with getting big via indelible hooks is that if you switch to trying to get by on atmosphere instead it just trudges. And even by that standard this is a trudge.
[2]

Maxwell Cavaseno: I mean there’s a certain sense of certainty that yeah, the goals of sounding like a woolier sub-Cars new wave obscurity still has some territory to be mined, and MGMT aren’t exactly bad at doing this. But you can’t really be certain if there’s a sense of pensiveness here, hesitation or their own disinterest. Even as someone who once disliked them, you have to admit they used to have the ability to express a certain amount of propulsion and desire to inspire motion in others. Good luck finding any of that here.
[3]

Edward Okulicz: My instinct reaction when hearing one of MGMT’s hits is to punch the person playing it and destroy the audio device, because their hooks just aggravate me. I am yet to be arrested, in either sense of the word. This one’s robot-stentor narration is almost an anti-hook, and unconvincing in the extreme, but I find it oddly compelling. The track itself takes a lot of little tics from random 80s reference points and is authentically bleak. Would be an 8 if they had a singer worth a damn.
[7]

Alex Clifton: This sounds like a weird gothy AU version of the Phoenix Wright soundtracks, which is simultaneously impressive and upsetting. It could do with a minute lopping off overall — a bit turgid and melodramatic for my tastes — but is less terrible than it should be. I’m thoroughly annoyed.
[4]

Wednesday, November 15th, 2017

Tune-Yards – Look at Your Hands

Not a George Michael cover.


[Video][Website]
[6.14]

Katherine St Asaph: The Tune-Yards trick you know and have some (probably strong) opinion on, except with drum machines. Lots of drum machines. Lots of really great drum machines.
[7]

Alfred Soto: Whoa, check out that bass — John Deacon, watch out. Using her battle-tested trick of experimenting with single-line hooks that assume the weight of mantras, Merrill Garbus applies a mixing board lacquer as if she thought she could hit the top ten like Paramore. Well, Paramore didn’t this time. Less than meets the ear, after several plays.
[7]

Ian Mathers: Used to be more interesting in theory than in execution; now with the slightly more conventional sound it’s not even that.
[3]

Ryo Miyauchi: Machinery is nothing new to the music of Tune-Yards, but what a difference sequenced drum-machine claps make: as they flatten the project, they also shrink the song back to the bedroom confines of her Bird-Brains days. But bold humanness stays intact thanks to the titular hook and the associations she makes with it. Before she even says “locked and loaded,” her hands have taken on numerous destructive forms.
[6]

Nortey Dowuona: Nice, slick bass, solid but unmoving drums, 2D synths, gurgling pianos. Through the classy guitar cuts Tune-Yards’ echo-y, melodic voice.
[5]

Kat Stevens: The cat started miaowing extremely loudly during the last minute, just at the bit where Merrill sailed her dinghy over the waterfall. 
[7]

Mo Kim: The familiar smoke swelling in Merrill Garbus’ voice, even amidst an unusually smooth disco-rock instrumental, makes “Look at Your Hands” an intriguing song to hold; there’s dirt under the nails even as the chipper guitar licks and spacey synth constellations blush with color. This feels as much poetry as it does pop.
[8]

Wednesday, November 15th, 2017

Liam Payne – Bedroom Floor

Your daily glimpse of hell, via headline: “Liam Payne and Charlie Puth Had a ‘Falsetto-Off’ During the Making of ‘Bedroom Floor'”.


[Video][Website]
[3.40]

Alfred Soto: Another month, another sex-drenched One Directioner debut with turpentine falsetto. This one has R. Kelly onomatopoetic noises. Get your pleasures where you can, folks.
[4]

Katherine St Asaph: Out of One Direction and out (maybe) of morality clauses, the members of One Direction are locked into a new competition: who can be horniest on main. Not good-horniest, though; maybe it’s the neverending news of male pustularity, maybe it’s writer Charlie Puth, but “baby, why you always act like you don’t want me? Don’t make me bring up your dirty laundry” comes off incredibly skeevy. It’s not worth the pun, which is a bad pun anyway — if my clothes could talk, they’d say aim it elsewhere and stop the cloying falsetto. And maybe put more than one note in the hook.
[1]

Julian de Valliere: Being someone’s unpaid and on-demand flesh dildo seems like an odd thing to be proud about, but such is the stance of “Bedroom Floor” — Liam’s latest attempt to put us in a headlock until we cry “Payne over Zayn” three times in a row. Unfortunately, his campaign for the title of The Sexy One from One Direction falls apart when he mistakes sliminess for steaminess, and an awkwardly paraphrased chorus for a middle eight.
[2]

Ryo Miyauchi: Liam lazily fills the space of the pre-chorus repeating “real,” like a preteen’s attempt at hyperbole, while having way too much fun with the chirp-chirp ad lib. It’s a rather clumsy route to get to a lukewarm punchline, where the wit doesn’t sting as much as he thinks it does. The bigger offense, though, is wasting one of the finer steel-drum beats to come from this tropical pop wave.
[4]

Will Adams: Do iPhones actually make a brrt-brrt sound? Does Liam Payne actually know how sex works? Did anyone actually want to hear what it’d sound like if Calvin Harris produced for Drake?
[3]

Eleanor Graham: Steve Jobs didn’t die for this.
[3]

Nortey Dowuona: Flat 808s kill this bland, empty song about… what, exactly? Has Liam Payne made a single good song since One Direction split? At least his falsetto is tolerable.
[2]

Crystal Leww: Am I proud that Liam Payne is my favorite ex-One Direction member? No. Am I slightly ashamed that I find all of his songs to be bops? Yeah. Liam continues his trend of songs about sex that sound like he’s never, ever seen someone else naked. It’s… not sexy, but somehow incredibly endearing.
[7]

Stephen Eisermann: Unlike his One Direction counterparts, who have all released at least one engaging track, Liam Payne continues to release awkward “sexy” songs without the swag to sell them. It pigeonholes him in the “not-quite-Justin-Timberlake” category, and not only is Liam not as good a singer as Justin, but I certainly don’t miss Justin enough (at all, really) to need a generic version. “Bedroom Floor” is no different, and I wonder why nobody on Liam’s team has taken the time to tell him that maybe, just maybe, he should let Justin bring sexy back.
[3]

Joshua Copperman: In the recent flurry of Taylor Swift retrospectives, someone discussed how every piece of “We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together” was a hook in its own right. This is the sound of Charlie Puth and Liam trying to do that — the looped “realrealrealreal,” the “brrp-brrp” iPhone ring, and the endless repetition of the chorus — and missing the mark on all of them. The chord progression is pretty, and I love the punchiness of the steel drums, but the song tries so hard to find hooks in a hookless place.
[5]

Tuesday, November 14th, 2017

Krept & Konan ft. Stormzy – Ask Flipz

Ugh I sent him an e-mail but his out of office is on…


[Video]
[7.00]

Alfred Soto: Another track about being naked and famous, about reacting to fans recognizing you on the street. These three are in a position to know. Stormzy’s hiccuping, terse vocalizing brings the pain over the jungle-inflected beat.
[7]

Mo Kim: What a terrifically elastic beat, drawling out and in at just the right times and giving the rap trio’s punchlines just that extra bit of snap. Stormzy lives up to his name, kicking up a minor furor with relative restraint; throughout, there’s a flippant sense of ease and confidence that electrifies “Ask Flipz” with the energy of a good improvisation.
[8]

Nortey Dowuona: Sharp, tightly wound drums, cascading synths and bouncy drums float the goofy-meet-tough raps from Krept and Konan and the powerful, delicate raps from Stormzy.
[7]

Ryo Miyauchi: The simple, paranoid loop offers a rather surprising amount of range. Konan postures a well-kept cool as he lays low and minimal with his verse. Krept goes opposite to rap frantic as if to suck the oxygen out of the room. Stormzy ends up stealing the show going from leader of the pack to furious rookie at the drop of a hat.
[6]

Will Adams: It’s no wonder Stormzy was granted so much airtime — he handles all three hooks and gets his own verse — since he stays so on top of the brooding production (the best sound in this is the bass growl on the second beat). Krept & Konan are no slouches themselves; “Ask Flipz” is solid club gloom from start to finish that balances its fun with a sense of danger.
[7]

Ian Mathers: Both the production and all three rappers have pleasingly halting, staccato approaches at times here, and the most satisfying thing about “Ask Flipz” is that those different approaches weave in and out of each other, sometimes temporarily synchronizing and sometimes playing off of each other as counterpoint. Intermittant propulsion can work just as well as the steady kind, it turns out.
[7]