New York’s next great hope…

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[6.89]

Anaïs Escobar Mathers: I am here for this. Cardi B is loud and she fills every word she raps with an infectious energy. This is exactly what I want to listen to in the morning, on my commute, before a meeting at work, you name it. Cardi’s rapping about how she got where she’s at and she’s not playing: “I’m a boss, you a worker, bitch, I make bloody moves.” We’ve heard this kind of thing before but Cardi hits every word hard as hell. The beat here almost sounds a little bit like Drake’s “Started from the Bottom” but with the confidence only a woman can have, having to work ten times as hard as any man to get somewhere.
[10]

Alfred Soto: Taking what sounds like the organ peal from the outro to Justin Timberlake’s “Like I Love You,” Belcalis Almanzar screws with a certain rapper’s moniker and takes the money (I hope) and goes. Attitude she’s got, and her mixtape’s solid. She needs rhymes better than OK.
[7]

Micha Cavaseno: The whirlwind of ex-stripper turned media personality Cardi B, a.k.a. the greatest living human being to emerge from the Bronx since French Montana, has become one of the most bemusing stories of 2017 as her once seemingly larkish rap career now upturns a massive hit. “Bodak Yellow” is impressively functional and timely for a rap single from a relatively new and untested New Yorker. It’s also spending a lot of its time (by Cardi’s admission) mirroring the starker and more adept “No Flockin” by Kodak Black. While I could acknowledge that the trade off of the less instantaneously skilled and more charming Northerner for the promising younger talent who can’t stop acting belligerently vile should be an upgrade in many extents, “Bodak” feels like a run-through of rap cliches without much spice. Red Louboutins, boss moves, wild sex, broke haters… someone like Cardi should be able to make a song so basic feel a lot more lively, but she instead sounds tedious.
[4]

Thomas Inskeep: Okay, okay, yes, Cardi B, you can be as hard as the guys, we get it. Next time, though, can you make a more interesting song? 
[4]

Jonathan Bradley: Cardi colors outside Kodak’s “No Flockin” skeleton; the New York arrogance of her bars lights up the nighttime chill of the beat brighter than those Louboutins. Her flow is fine, but it’s that hook that gives this staying power: the luxuriant violence of her designer brags balances street affiliation with less refined savagery in a way that’s not subtle — “I got bloody moves” is barely double entendre — but is effective. It’s doubly so in a rap landscape dominated, from Thugga to Migos to trap to drill, by wooze and weft: Cardi stands out by standing out. 
[7]

Crystal Leww: Cardi B is not a good rapper, and any criticism of her music will undoubtedly try to hit at her weakness in the “technical” department. But technical skills have always been overrated in music anyway. You know what is exciting? I went to a small music night in New York a couple of weeks ago, and the DJ dropped “Bodak Yellow.” Before Cardi’s rap even cut in, there was a roar from the women in the crowd. The DJ ran it back twice because of technical difficulties and even when the music cut out from time to time, there were still people rapping along, continuing as though the song was going. There are a lot of videos on the internet of someone cutting out the music on ‘”Bodak Yellow,” and the crowd still going. This is a monster of a song, especially for the girls, and watching it unfold in public spaces is unbelievable, much more interesting than any technical rapper in 2017.
[9]

Austin Brown: Alright, I’m on board for Cardi B as charismatic hip-hop personality and potentially great artist. Her grasp on the Kodak Black flow in “Bodak Yellow” is undeniable, and as a bonus, it lets Kodak’s artistic innovations flow without giving an abuser any cash. That said, to seal the deal I’m gonna need to hear something with a little more her in it — this reminds me of one of the mixtape stunts Lil Wayne would’ve pulled in his imperial period, but without the context of his indelible original material from that period.
[6]

Andy Hutchins: It figures that a former New York stripper would know exactly what sort of imperial beat and irrepressible boasting mix and mingle to sound incredible on a strip-club single that could still be credibly called thoro, right? Cardi B’s greatest asset as a rapper is her self-proclaimed “thick-ass” Bronx-by-Washington Heights accent, which stretches half of her vowels to their breaking point — “Caaardi B,” “bloooody shoes,” “fuuuck wi’ choo” — but her “Bodak Yellow” delivery recalls both Nicki in general and (obviously) Kodak in particular, making her sound familiar despite those distinctive As, Os, and Us, and the massive hook here infectious and anthemic. The flow-tracing is a feature, not a bug, of Cardi’s ascent, but it also keeps her from going off the rails — and stood beside her closest comparison — Australia’s most famous female rapper — Cardi’s both a) settling into a far more interesting grooves and b) uh, actually of the culture?
[8]

Joshua Minsoo Kim: “Bodak Yellow” reminds me a whole lot of trying my first Roja Dove fragrance. It was Fetish Pour Homme, a massive explosion of rich leather, pungent castoreum, and sweet amber that’s equal parts opulent and caustic. A single spray was enough to catch the attention of every person in a large room, and Cardi B commands just as much here. There’s a subtle glistening sound that occasionally appears and it feels apt: she’s rich, yes, but she’s primarily interested in overwhelming you with her immense presence. Alas, Fetish Pour Homme is essentially a more intense take on Puredistance’s M, and “Bodak Yellow,” while very good, is also extremely familiar (and would remain as such even without the “No Flockin” flow). Still, I’m moved by the autobiographical hook (“I don’t dance now, I make money moves”) and how the hypnotic synth line lulls you in so Cardi can smack you upside the head.
[7]

Why they gotta say it like Short?

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[4.14]

Joshua Minsoo Kim: I always laugh (in a good way!) when listening to Too $hort’s “Freaky Tales” — the reverbed vocals, minimal 808s, and repetitive lyrics make it feel like it’s really never going to end. But that’s what makes the track all the more interesting: they conjure up an anhedonic haze that runs antithetical to the song’s intent. “Rake It Up” dares to sample the classic gooey bassline but both Yo Gotti and Nicki Minaj aim for the song’s cool demeanor without any of the panache or sense of humor. The unfortunate result is a song that’s mostly tedious, hurt more by nigh serviceable raps that find the two unable to transcend the bassline’s sinister lurch.
[4]

Ryo Miyauchi: A revelation this year is that Mike WiLL can’t really make good West Coast bass. I get neither rapper here hails from the Left, but the slow crawl of the bubbly electro bass, tinny clicks and Too Short’s biyatch! are ingredients fit to cook up a trunk-knocker from Oakland. Perhaps because this is made by Mike WiLL, the beat’s materials remain static in this vacuum-like void, including Yo Gotti’s equally flat delivery.
[5]

Jonathan Bradley: Just cause you know Short Dog (the real Short Dog) is no reason to recycle his better hits for a half-hearted half of your second verse. It’s particularly poor form following a characteristically inventive Nicki verse that has a lot to say about automobiles, China, and the myriad sexual connotations they might contain in recurrent combination. Yo Gotti, a thick-tongued and tough-minded rapper is not a convincingly sexual presence, which is a problem for a song he introduces as “the strip club anthem.” It shows; Gotti’s most engaging lines here are those establishing his business bona fides (“I was sendin’ bricks to Harlem back when Jay was still with Dame”). 
[5]

Thomas Inskeep: Another “strip club anthem,” zzzzzzz. Except that a) Mike WiLL should be ashamed of this lazy-ass simple beat, b) Yo Gotti is a terrible rapper, c) with terrible lyrics, and is a woman-hater to boot, d) and is Nicki trying to spend 2017 dropping one weak-ass verse after another, ruining her rep? If so, she’s definitely winning. This is hands down one of 2017’s worst.
[0]

Will Adams: A sleepy performance from both Yo Gotti and Mike WiLL isn’t the worst thing in the world, but it’s hard to find anything to highlight beyond the rapid-fire hook. And if you’re waiting for Nicki Minaj to salvage this, prepare to hear her rhyme “China” with “China” about five times.
[5]

Micha Cavaseno: Years and years ago, I learned that GQ Magazine had the nerve to say Too $hort is one of the worst rappers of all time. Now, the obvious lesson to be learned here is to not trust a magazine that thinks LeBron James can dress himself. But the lesson I’m reminded of is that rap fans will love a rapper who has no obvious redeeming qualities and many will disregard as being one of those things nobody “actually” listens to. Because Yo Gotti has definitely not been a man who kept Memphis as a Southern rap mainstay and his Definition of a G mixtape with Gucci Mane totally isn’t something I’d consider one of Radric’s top 10 projects. And that’s the thing, I guarantee that plenty of people will talk about Nicki, despite having the temerity to lazily rhyme the word “china” about 5 or 6 times to the point, because she’s good. We’ll bring up Mike WiLL making a hyper-distorted “Freaky Tales” redux that really doesn’t have a lot of finesse, because he’s good. But Gotti’s going to do the standard d-boy rhymes he’s been providing without haste for over 20 years, perhaps without a lot of “star-power” but no lack of function, and still getting no recognition beyond the loyalty of his fans.
[5]

Ashley John: For all that is catchy about “Rake It Up,” it is balanced out by clumsiness in equal measure. Yo Gotti’s hook bounces over the beat, but once he rolls into the first verse the pace of the song gets away from him. Nicki’s feature finds its footing only after the hurdle of rhyming Chyna with China (and then again with China itself twice more). The hook will be useful for transitions into Travis Scott and 21 Savage, but that might be this song’s entire shelf life in a summer of more solid radio hits. 
[5]

No apologies…

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[5.40]

Hannah Jocelyn: Considering we now know the ruthless nature of Chance the Rapper’s management, producer Warren Felder should probably credit Brasstracks and Chance for embodying portions of “No Problem” (a song about not messing with Chance’s crew, no less). Demi gives an incredible vocal performance, but the frustrating thing about this is that no matter how hard she tries, “Sorry Not Sorry” as a whole never transcends that reference point.
[5]

Joshua Minsoo Kim: Those “The Way”/”I’m Not A Player” keys are perfectly placed, injecting much needed swagger into Demi Lovato’s step. And when the chorus finally lands, Warren Felder’s characteristically deep bass rumbles sell “Sorry Not Sorry” as the summer anthem it so wants to be. I’m not quite convinced by much of what Lovato says, but that ultimately seems secondary; this is a song that readily invites sing-alongs with friends, and the sound of your own voice should be drowning out Demi’s template. Consequently, the chorus’s gang vocals and faint chant loop are a real nice touch.
[7]

Austin Brown: Demi Lovato’s much better at conveying earnestness than most of her contemporaries, especially in this climate where seemingly every pop star has pivoted towards minimalistic cool or performative wokeness. But without a good artistic hook beyond “loud sincerity,” like the dynamics that elevated “Cool for the Summer,” her songs fall flat. Here, she shouts over an above-average trap instrumental. Unfortunately, it just ends up sounding distracting — I’m googling the producer right after I write this to see if I can find an instrumental.
[4]

Andy Hutchins: I would like to point out that a watered-down Keri Hilson song in which Demi Lovato tries and fails to pull off “You fuckin’ wit’ a savage” is accompanied by a video in which Demi Lovato says, at its conclusion, “I’m totally kidding: I respect the police.” Sorry not sorry that I can’t let you have it both ways.
[2]

Will Adams: Between Ellie Goulding discussing fat stacks, Kiiara whippin’ in a car with you and Demi Lovato assuring everyone that she’s a bad bitch/savage, 2017 has endured an excruciating amount of try-hard attempts from white artists at “urban” edge without anything to back it up. What’s worse, “Sorry Not Sorry” sounds like its mid-range has been scooped out in order to make more room for the dull bass and Lovato’s blaring vocal, which makes me wonder whether this was originally intended for Jessie J.
[3]

Thomas Inskeep: When female pop singers like Selena Gomez or Katy Perry try to come off as “hard,” it doesn’t take. But for some reason, from Demi Lovato, I buy what she’s selling. When she sings that “you’re fuckin’ with a savage,” I really don’t wanna cross her. This deliciously nasty kiss-off/revenge song carries just the right amount of punch, and hearing Lovato “bein’ so bad” has me feelin’ good, too.
[7]

Alex Clifton: This ain’t Demi’s first time at the rodeo: 2013’s “Really Don’t Care” was a fine kiss-off track. But where “Really Don’t Care” was all pep and spunk, upbeat and poppy and focused on living your own life, “Sorry Not Sorry” revels in causing someone else pain. It’s got swagger. And it works. “I’m out here looking like revenge” is a whacking great opening line, encompassing that delicious feeling of destroying someone who has wronged you completely. Demi’s a bit loud in the chorus but vocal nuance be damned — she sounds fabulous and her attitude carries the song. Hell, the verses have more personality than most of the summer songs on modern pop radio. Going all-out pays, and Demi knocks it out of the park here.
[7]

Ryo Miyauchi: Demi Lovato stitches dozens of catchphrase hooks for her second try at posing confidence. A glaring lyric definitely on lease from another is her “baddest/savage” combo, which reads more like a songwriter tag from the collaborators on SweetSexySavage, who also helped bring this to life. And surely Demi channels her Kehlani to bring a little “CRZY” to pull off a more self-esteemed expression than “Confident.”
[6]

Stephen Eisermann: Give me sassy, no-fucks Demi any day — she’s infinitely sexier than sexy, purring Demi and far more confident than Demi repeating that word over and over again. Still, Demi’s tendency to oversing continues in this song and no amount of loud instrumentation can mask her need to sing everything at volume 150. This is, however, a step in the right direction and a certified bop, so keep up the good efforts Demi!
[7]

Alfred Soto: She lavishes her impressive pipes on that belted chorus, which could use less of her higher register. The piano lines provide effective accompaniment to the “walk that walk, baby” section too. Let’s see if radio allows a woman to sing such sentiments without male accompaniment.
[6]

Fishbach, we like your bass.

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[7.14]

Thomas Inskeep: Slightly desperate-sounding French new wave that actually sounds like it was recorded in 1983? I’m down with that, though I wish it was perkier.
[6]

Anaïs Escobar Mathers: Have you heard of Desireless? She was this incredible French 80s new wave singer who I accidentally found years ago while downloading any and all new wave/post punk/that kind of thing mixes I could get my hands on. All of that is to tell you that Fishbach sounds like a baby Desireless except with this smoky, hoarse voice that is so emotional and really brings to mind torch singers of the past. Her voice sounds beautiful and dark over the synthesizers and it really hits the sweet spot if you love New Order’s sound but have thought to yourself, “this could be moodier.”
[9]

Will Adams: The Italo touches are nice, but I suspect Fishbach’s deep (and fantastic) voice could be better suited to something other than that shouty chorus.
[6]

Ian Mathers: That is an extremely satisfying bass tone, and Fishbach matches it with a compellingly fervent vocal performance and a chorus that rightly emphasizes both. My French is old and patchwork but I’ll be muttering bits of that chorus to myself all day, possibly while playing air bass.
[8]

Iain Mew: Synth bass that’s so perfectly realised as to outdo mere nostalgia, married to a wonderful vocal performance that’s intense and cool and reminds me of The Long Blondes. There’s not that much in the way of dynamics to what she does with the song beyond that (the plinky opening and later breakdown both underwhelm) but the sound is a joy in itself.
[7]

Alfred Soto: Yet more synth pop with trop house accents. This time the electro bass is the star.
[6]

Ramzi Awn: Fishbach delivers a laid back sound with a kick-ass chorus on “Un Autre Que Moi”, complete with island-tinged synths and solid vocal production. The beguiling tune reveals a strong sense of melody, and the light touch on the drums makes for a rousing single.
[8]

This song certainly wasn’t!

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[7.12]

Ian Mathers: “Did it fix what was wrong with you? / Are you less than?” God, if only every artist I channeled my totally average teen angst through had aged with me so well… meaning, it’s still a little ridiculous (and still sounds like a swarm of particularly well organized and destructive spaceships), but at least Trent’s asking questions that aren’t the same ones 16-year-old me had already thought of. Anyway, clearly the whole song is just built to get us to the end bit where the spaceships start blowing up buildings and it builds so nicely to that bit, I’d call it a success.
[7]

Tim de Reuse: There are smatterings of modern sound design and modern subject matter here, certainly, but Reznor’s voice still has a high whine to it and he’s still using phrases like “Welcome oblivion” with sincere fuck-you gusto over grungy, distorted drum machine samples. It’s disorienting hearing something that simultaneously references the birth of the Trump administration and transports me back to sixth grade, but I don’t think my enjoyment of it can entirely be put down to nostalgia. The recent outpouring of unironic, angsty-warts-and-all love and support for the music of Linkin Park in the wake of Chester Bennington’s death was a reminder that the cheesy stuff I loved as a kid was genuinely cathartic and remains important in its own right; to my genuine surprise, the 2017 coat of paint suits it well.
[8]

Micha Cavaseno: You know, I hate political Reznor. When so many critics salivated at “Capital G” I learned first and foremost that if I was going to enjoy music, I had to learn to simply live long enough for him to outlast the political climate and hear him make music that was concerned with something better. Tragically when we got out of that mess, he decided to take a break and additionally return trying to make music possibly reflecting the need for serenity in becoming a parent. Of course, when the sky goes red, Political Trent and his distortion pedals rear their malicious head… But I have to say, making a song that’s nihilistically scowling at a world that deliberately put itself into hell, while having the sort of neo-nostalgia 8-bit synthwave music that the redditors who’ll gladly #Actually us into a black hole are cranking up, is a pretty sadistic little touch.
[6]

Cassy Gress: Welp, I tweeted a couple of weeks ago that NIN’s last good album will probably be Year Zero, on the basis that “The Hand That Feeds,” “Survivalism,” “Discipline,” and “Came Back Haunted” all sound like variations on the same song to me (but Year Zero had better cohesion and better non-single songs). “Less Than” is another variation on that song, but from an alternate universe where it appeared on The Fragile, and also it was on a rocket. I don’t know how else to explain the sudden return of expansive heft and chest-ripped-open-ness.
[8]

Thomas Inskeep: Heavy synths, heavy drums, and Trent Reznor’s vocals: I don’t hear this as “synthwave,” though some may. I simply hear this as a great NIN single, their best in over a decade, sitting up alongside 2005’s “Only” and “The Hand That Feeds.” “Less Than” whomps and at the same time creeps up on you, cutting you off at the knees before you realize it’s even behind you.
[10]

Anaïs Escobar Mathers: I would like to have words with David Lynch because on a recent episode of Twin Peaks, he made me think to myself: “Do I like Nine Inch Nails?” No worries though because “Less Than” brought me back to earth and reminded me that nope, it’s just Trent doing Trent, aggro synth usage plus cynicism, business as usual, and I’m good without, thanks. A classic example of fine but not for me.
[3]

Alfred Soto: Trent Reznor’s penchant for the scabrous putdown distinguishes him from other poseur revivalists, and “Less Than” is better titled “More Than” anyway, thanks to the crispness with which the auteur keeps stacking riff atop riff. 
[7]

Will Adams: Nine Inch Nails had fallen off my radar after The Slip; perhaps it was just a function of my teenage self embracing pop music more and moving further away from angsty cynicism. “Less Than” tears through my indifference by reminding me why I liked them so much: it has the propulsion of With Teeth, the relentless distortion that screams through the mix, and Trent Reznor powering through with conviction. In 2017, Reznor need not do much to paint a dystopian landscape; some light shading is all I need to feel his anger.
[8]

Oh hey, remember them?

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[6.78]

Tim de Reuse: Fischerspooner apparently describe this tune as “a queer ballad about polyamory (…or polyagony),” which sounds like the kind of thing I’d usually be cheering for. I’ve been listening over and over scouring it for some kind of subtext to justify that “polyagony” note; you know, anything that might imply a deeper interpretation than just “a grimy, dotted-eigth-note electropop trudge.” I can’t find a damn thing. Even when stretching the interpretation of the few lines that dare to express genuine emotion beyond awful dancefloor clichés, we’re given passing references rather than commentary. Or, hey, maybe it’s subtle — maybe the sleazy, tedious sluggishness of it is supposed to communicate some kind of ambivalence towards its subject matter, which I guess is a reading you could craft an argument in favor of — but I still wouldn’t find it very much fun to listen to.
[4]

Ian Mathers: Really, there are enough positive songs about monogamy; I don’t begrudge there being more, but what we could use (in a world where more people are choosing other options) are more songs about healthy, non-monogamous relationships where it’s just… normal. It’s not an origin story, not intended for your titillation, not intended to convince anyone, and any vertiginous pleasures here (between the banked synthesizers, rattling drum machine clicks and Casey Spooner’s typically layered and pleasurable vocals) are predicated on the same charge anyone gets from love, not on the situation being “weird” or “risky” or “deviant” or anything like that. Song bangs, don’t get me wrong, but it’s also refreshing.
[8]

Thomas Inskeep: Back-room 2am gay sleaze music about “com[ing] together sweetly” — not just the sexiest song Casey Spooner’s ever voiced, but most definitely the sexiest thing co-writer and -producer Michael Stipe (!) has ever had a hand in. There are many reasons I wish Looking was still on the air, and now here’s another: this could soundtrack one hell of a club scene on that show.
[9]

Claire Biddles: Not to be dramatic but when I heard that Michael Stipe was heavily involved in the making of the new Fischerspooner record I literally lay down and died, perished, ceased to exist: The meeting of one of the greatest queer musicians/writers of all time and the makers of the definitive club banger of my youth! “Have Fun Tonight” goes dirty and hard, the title becoming an order to an ambiguous lover or ex-lover or sort-of lover. The complexities of having and wanting and letting go are all there in Casey Spooner’s delicious vocal, going from pathetic sincerity (“Go have fun without me”) to faux-macho irony (the perfect delivery of “We complete each other….man“). I have a lot of feelings about Michael Stipe’s transition from observer of queer life (“That’s me in the corner”, of course) to brazen chronicler of all of its light and rot and bitterness, and listening to “Have Fun Tonight” with that context makes it even more raw. 
[8]

Anaïs Escobar Mathers: I have such a defiant 19-year-old love for Fischerspooner and that’s likely due to all of the rock bros I dated in my youth who rolled their eyes at the electropop I loved so much. But it’s also because they’re great! I love “Have Fun Tonight”, which feels very Pet Shop Boys and scratches the itch for dreamy vocals paired with new wave/electro vibes. Get ready for me to dig into my unresolved feelings of wishing I had been a teen in the late 70s/early 80s, but this single reminds me so much of Cabaret Voltaire on The Crackdown and that is a very good thing.
[8]

Scott Mildenhall: If Fischerspooner’s only cultural mark was having Richard Blackwood pretend to be unnerved before and after their spectacular Top of the Pops performance, their work would be done, but evidently they were more than ephemera. “Have Fun Tonight” sounds like the work of a new band. It doesn’t have anything near the box-smashing excitement of (yes) “Emerge”, but to hear it on the radio as it sounds like it should be would be a start. Switch the gender references and someone like Demi Lovato would probably have a crack; shift the world slightly and it could be a hit for Adam Lambert.
[7]

Alfred Soto: The uneasy falsetto and 2003 electrobeats, garnished with trop house marimbas for spice, are queer-as-weird, not queer-queer. I don’t want to remind these inelegant poseurs that what they used to do is write boring songs when they should’ve been covering Wire for whole albums.
[4]

Anthony Easton: That Strokes oral history is at the tail end of millenial New York nostalgia, but I miss the Fischerspooner gloom house adjacent dance music more than the Strokes guitar wank. This compiling of polymorphous single entendres drag through a production as thick as tar, and coming together sounds less fun than obligatory, but the Depeche Mode quote doubles down on the retrograde nostalgia, that makes me at least fond of the effort. 
[6]

Will Adams: At once sinister and carnal and forlorn, “Have Fun Tonight” blasts away the threat of dancefloor infidelity with a cosign from the would-be spurned. As usual, Fischerspooner’s sonic palette veers into cheapness, but the cold, mechanical skitter fits well into the narrative. The feelings are shifting and unsure, but the raw desire remains.
[7]

We close our high-scoring day with our Ukrainian folk chums.

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[7.14]Katie Gill: Like many of us I’d imagine, I fell in love with ONUKA during the amazing interval act of 2017 Eurovision. So imagine my surprise when I queue this up and it’s…oddly light? This is certainly lighter and happier than I was expecting, with my limited ONUKA exposure. Annoyingly, it’s also less weird. Still, I can’t fully hate it. All the disparate elements pulling together around the three minute mark make the song from something expected to a beautiful cacophony of sound. And whatever synth is making that flute noise throughout the background is a beautifully off-kilter effect, separating this song from the middle of the pack.
[7]

Alfred Soto: A beautiful arrangement, particularly the use of bandura, distinguishes this track. Its patient accumulation of detail and restrained goth touches call to mind Vespertine-era Björk.
[7]

Anaïs Escobar Mathers: I kept hearing how much I would love the interval act that ONUKA did for this year’s Eurovision so I watched it on YouTube and was appropriately blown away. The folk instruments, the vocals, this was extremely my kind of thing; which is why I’m so underwhelmed by ONUKA’s new single. It feels very safe, like they’re dipping their toes into world music but then there’s less of the folk element and the interesting vocals which really made them stand out. It’s not a bad song, it’s just not that great.
[5]

Will Adams: It’s the euphoric breakdown from last year’s “19 86,” a song about looking forward after a tragedy (in that song’s case, a nuclear one), spun out into a song length high. Sustaining that level of optimism over four minutes could be a tough job, but when Nata Zhizhchenko sings “it’s not our last flight” as ornamental figures rise up in the arrangement like a castle materializing among the clouds, it’s glorious. Though ONUKA might be better known for introspection via dark electro, “Vsesvit” shows they can just as magnificently soar into the sky.
[8]

Ian Mathers: The most interesting bit here is the voice/string (both?) sample that both anchors the slow build of this track and winds up kind of providing the most earworm-y melody in it? The lyrics seem a bit platitudinous in both content and delivery, but every time you’ve got those little shrieky sounds in the background, this is basically compelling (maybe especially because of how stately and/or ponderous the rest is).
[6]

Edward Okulicz: Organ, strings and euphoria make for a heady cocktail, and that’s enough to carry this song. But more than that, Nata Zhizhchenko’s voice is wonderful — revelling in the warmth of the arrangement, poking in and out of the mix, and never sounding anything less than great. It’s coming out of winter here, the sun is starting to encroach on my world again, and as my thoughts turn to refreshing, replanning, rebirth, this is a magnificent soundtrack to plotting out and living those possibilities.
[9]

Cassy Gress: After Eurovision, I went and gave Vidlik a listen, and then listened again, and again and again and again. “Vsesvit” is Vidlik stepping out of the rubble and ash into the blinding sunshine; you squint and blink and shade your eyes, and then feel the heat prickling your skin, and you’re grinning without even realizing it.
[8]

Glad to hear it wasn’t just me who thought it was “Onion.”

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[7.57]

Hannah Jocelyn: I have a sort of “anti-soothing” playlist somewhere on Spotify; for moments when I’m drained of energy and crave simiarly drained music. It’s not escapism; it’s music for when escapism is impossible, when you want to hover with no shape — that’s also on the list — but you’re stuck in your body. Van Etten’s voice here is a perfect example, woozy and grounded even as the dream-pop background shifts and stutters. She tosses off heavy questions of identity casually, as the song threatens to become something bigger but just… doesn’t. There’s something absorbing about the way it never quite reaches catharsis, where even the ‘chorus’ is “can you help from beyond?”, a question that inevitably goes unanswered. As soon as it hit the final moments, bursting with life yet still resigned, I dropped it into the playlist.
[8]

Will Adams: I’ve been here before: a plea that’s so quiet it barely leaves your lips despite asking for help from a spiritual source. The music fades in and out of view like light through window blinds, gathering strength in spots before subsiding to weightlessness.
[7]

Alfred Soto: Less danceable but no less frantic, “Omnion” uses shivery electronics and the high, fluting voice of Sharon Van Etten to play with gender (“I want to be the best man that I can be”). As she becomes more available, so does the track blossom. I’ve heard better from Andy Butler’s project, but I appreciate he’s still trying.
[6]

Julian Axelrod: “Omnion” clocks in at nearly five minutes, but feels twice as long. I don’t mean that as a slight: Rather than treading water, the track slowly and methodically piles on new melodies like a toddler stacking blocks. Synths are twisted and pulled like taffy, snares explode on cue until they don’t, and a woozy horn section stumbles in late like it just slept off a hangover. It’s emotionally overwhelming even before you register Sharon van Etten, bemoaning her shortcomings and fulfilling her unforeseen destiny as a house diva. She beautifully illustrates the frustration that leads her to ask for support, and the strength that comes after she takes that step. The song echoes this evolution, not escalating but expanding into a widescreen panorama. It feels like its own little world, and for those five minutes, there’s nowhere else I want to be.
[9]

Edward Okulicz: It’s not a big issue that the music of “Omnion” wobbles around fairly aimlessly, because the moment where van Etten and the synths cry forth in the chorus — as if a last gasp to be saved by someone after being ignored or too quiet to be heard — is chilling. Wouldn’t normally say this about something so deliberately paced to be heard at full-length, but the edit in the video helps.
[7]

Austin Brown: I already know the hold this song has on me won’t last. It’s too self-contained, too hermetic in its electro leanings, and too disjointed in its sonic components to work as one of those songs that seeps into my life and becomes part of the fabric of my existence. That said, for the time being I couldn’t give less of a fuck. I’m so tired, so exhausted by both my life and the world around me as both seem to fall apart and reveal their inherent lack of order. I don’t know where I’m going or what’s happening–hell, I don’t know the floor will be there for me with every next step I take (that is, if I get out of bed at all). In times like these–of which there have been more and more recently–I turn to music of a specific kind, that holds an affective reliability I know won’t let me down. Utopian in a Balearic sort of way, I guess. Probably female vocals. A Nicholas Winding Refn soundtrack, but less solipsistic. Et cetera, et cetera. Given that, there’s plenty of fodder for my ear throughout “Omnion.” There’s a little synth thing in the bridge that sounds like Classixx but that I couldn’t say what the exact name of the instrument is. Near the end of the song, a small trumpet riff enters the mix, miniature but steadfast in its optimism. It really could be a Chromatics song if Johnny Jewel got his hands on it. But more than any of that, “Omnion” does me one better, by taking the music I would probably say I have the most spiritual relationship to and literalizing that feeling. It’s a song, after all, about God, or a god, and the romantic hope for divine kindliness. And so of course I’m stopped in my tracks each time I hear Sharon Van Etten utter “I need to know there’s nothing to be scared of,” less pleading than calmly demanding in what I can’t describe as anything less than a hymn. That’s all I need too.
[9]

Anaïs Escobar Mathers: I always forget about Sharon van Etten and then I hear her voice and I’m like, “what are you doing, she’s great!” In other words, I’m happy to hear her on this song with Hercules & Love Affair having enjoyed their remix of her song “Not Myself.” “Omnion” brings to mind mid 2000s Freezepop or even a more interesting version of what The Postal Service could have sounded like on a second album (now with less Ben Gibbard!). It’s a good collaboration fit here even if I can’t stop hearing “onion” every time Sharon sings “Omnion” but that’s more about me.
[7]

Hey they do let the blokes sing on their singles still!

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[6.57]

Alfred Soto: Although I hear more pain in the organ and guitar twang, Jimi Westbrook tries and largely succeeds. Whether co-writer Lori McKenna is responsible for the line about not making the evening news I’ll leave to ASCAP. An estimable simulacrum of heartbreak. 
[6]

Thomas Inskeep: The commercial/radio reaction to LBT’s album The Breaker has been fascinating, and troubling: after the Taylor Swift-penned “Better Man” hit #1 on the Country Airplay chart, follow-up “Happy People” scraped to #46, their lowest-charting single ever. And this one has yet to crack the 60-position chart at all. Troubling, because I find The Breaker the best album of their career and one of the best of 2017 overall. That said, I kind of get it, too, because most of the album is muted and understated and not at all in line with “hit country” of the moment; to my ears, it sounds kind of like if Brian Eno had helmed a country record, which is a big piece of my love for it. “When Someone Stops Loving You” features a lead vocal from Jimi Westbrook, and he turns out a deeply soulful, beautiful performance, backed of course by those phenomenal LBT harmonies. This is a hushed record, and I absolutely love it. And sadly, it won’t be a hit either.
[9]

Tim de Reuse: If it could all be as charmingly pathetic as the defeated mutter of “or maybe just the couch” then it’d be a genuinely engaging woe-is-me piece; regrettably, the chorus is aiming a little too grandiose to let the song wallow in its own misery.
[5]

Scott Mildenhall: It’s the prosaic response to Skeeter Davis that she maybe did but also definitely didn’t need, and it’s far less compelling. Little Big Town look to moor at a maudlin monotony, while she sails away into the ocean of the lonesome. The latter is the one that seems more comforting.
[5]

Stephen Eisermann: A different voice leading a Little Big Town song is always welcome, but it doesn’t always work. Here, Jimi takes the lead on this close-your-eyes and lift-your-arms ballad about losing someone’s affection, and no better choice could’ve been made. His voice has a warmth and rasp often found in the harmonies, but he rarely gets the chance to lead. A song like this one needs a voice with enough groove to offset the heartache in the lyrics and music, and this styling is one that fits Jimi’s voice perfectly. Oddly enough, what is normally LBT’s strength ends up being a weakness here, as their harmonies only disrupt the pleasant flow that Jimi gives the track. They sound like the bad backup singers that seem to plague the best live vocalists; you kinda just want to say “girl… stop.”
[7]

Austin Brown: Smartly observed and (for this writer at least) personally affecting details, unfortunately strung together inexpertly by an oh-so-obvious lurching barroom rhythm section. That said, obviousness won’t matter a lick to the drunk singles who, I can already imagine, will uninhibitedly belt this in unison at last call, swaying arm in arm and choking out a sob at “maybe just the couch.”
[6]

Edward Okulicz: It’s got a smart and economic lyric and a sweet melody, and was a highlight of their concert that I saw this year, a really nice surprise as the last-but-one song on The Breaker and probably too gentle to stand out on radio. But I like how it handles devastation so matter-of-factly — rather than blow the sadness up to epic scale (a Little Big Town strength, cf. “Tornado”), this one keeps it life-size and subtle. Really, it’s a surprise it works so well as it seems to play to none of LBT’s big commercial or critical strengths, but work it does. Kind of surprised they didn’t go for a big pop song as the next single like “Night On Our Side” but not complaining either.
[8]

Sleater-Kinney/R.E.M. supergroup, to us, is a little super…

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Claire Biddles: When I first heard that Filthy Friends was a supergroup featuring members of SLEATER-KINNEY AND R.E.M. (!!!!) who initially formed to do DAVID BOWIE COVERS (!!!!!!!) I knew I was in for a fun ride, and “The Arrival” is a super fun introduction. Corin Tucker’s distinctive vocal means that S-K comparisons are inevitable, and I’m glad of the meaty instrumentation that’s reminiscent of their more recent records. Everyone involved is obviously having a hell of a time, which usually leaves me feeling suspicious, like the listeners’ enjoyment can’t possibly match that of the band playing, but it translates. There’s nothing groundbreaking here, but does there need to be?
[7]

Thomas Inskeep: Down ‘n dirty rock ‘n fuckin’ roll, just like it should be.
[7]

Ashley John: From a group with a mission statement that changes from exploring new genres to protesting Trump’s presidency, “The Arrival” doesn’t require a strong thesis statement to be a solid track. Corin Tucker’s vocals soar, but the rolling drums form the backbone that binds the track together. The song ends just before it becomes too much, the only restraint in this boundless boom of a single.
[6]

Austin Brown: Peter Buck’s signature chromatic guitar figures don’t sound as out of place as I might’ve thought in what’s otherwise a barnstorming Corin Tucker vocal showcase. That doesn’t mean that it’s seamless, though–the stitching keeping these disparate aesthetic impulses together shows.
[6]

Ryo Miyauchi: Corin Tucker’s howls in Sleater-Kinney sounded like one side of a fierce argument with its coiled guitars resembling the wrestling match unfolding on record. As she screams here, she’s in dire need of a peer who can even out the fight. Laid-back guitar riffs made better companions for her in Filthy Friends’ softer cuts. The one in “Arrival,” meanwhile, plays a limp sparring partner.
[5]

Joshua Minsoo Kim: A swirling vortex of a song when Corin’s singing. When she stops, the band chugs along and it’s revealed that this is more of a sluggish, controlled wave pool.
[5]

Alfred Soto: This post-punk Traveling Wilburys could use more spring in its step and anarchy to accompany the good will. Like good post-punkers, not to mention students of the Wilburys, “The Arrival” doesn’t overstay its welcome.
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