Are they ready for a fall?
Tara Hillegeist: ELO + YMO = OMG!!!!!
Ian Mathers: A densely buzzing meditation on aging and, err, shoes. Chances are good once the album is released there will be at least a couple of songs that are more straightforwardly catchy than this one. By that point, the slow-moving, grinding groove of “Huarache Lights” might seem outright perverse. I mean that as a compliment.
Brad Shoup: Now that they’re fussing about losing their edge, I’m starting to catch a fondness for these dudes. Maybe it’s the yawing synths fucking with the tempo; it’s definitely the talkbox. The initial chord grouping ruts around an obsessive circle. After about a minute, a more dramatic progression presents itself, to be doubled and sanded down for a staggering (both senses) ending.
Anthony Easton: Like an anthology of formal experimentation in pop music for the last few decades, fails because the attempts at listing are not systematic enough.
Maxwell Cavaseno: Kraftwerk tributes. Tributes to one of my favorite sneakers right up there with the Air Max 95, the Ewing Focuses and the Black Uptowns. Tributes to the rave. Tributes to the Hot Chip that once was. Tributaries upon tributaries, like those little electric fountains of water that look like endless pools spilling over into another.
Alfred Soto: Too long, and the pitch manipulations don’t hide how they’ve edged closer to one of the lamer “Fraggle Rock” songs, albeit with a sampler.
Cédric Le Merrer: Like all Hot Chip songs I’ve ever heard, it’s a great track and I could surely get on board of the whole melancholy dance music project if it wasn’t ruined by having a bunch of wet paper towels sing over it.
Moses Kim: I’ll always have a place in my heart for this strain of proggy, serious yet goofy synth pop. The last two minutes alone feature a Daft Punk-esque robot voice, a synth breakdown more rubbery than cafeteria pizza, and gently swung wedding band drums; if the first few minutes take a while to get to the fun, they’re still comforting, like riding a roller coaster meant for ages 12 and under. If anything I wish this were more audacious: it’s a fun mélange of ideas and reference points, but it lacks a strong central voice to ground it.
Patrick St. Michel: If only there was a better and far funnier Hot Chip song in existence that captured what listening to “Huarache Lights” feels like. Well, anyway, nice try with the breakdown, but this is mostly joyless repetition for me.