Aleksandra Prijović’s run as Singer Of 2017’s Most Bombastic Song Named “Testament” didn’t last long…

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[5.40]

Ian Mathers: I had no idea who Nana Mizuki was or of the provenance this song, and I still went “anime theme song” within 30 seconds. I haven’t really kept up with much anime since high school, but I can practically see the fight scenes and character portraits, assuming the visual language has stayed as similar as the musical one seems to have, and I can’t see listening to this in a vaccuum that often. If I knew/was a fan of the show, it’d get me pumped way up, but at 4 minutes I feel the hangover before I’ve even stopped drinking, you know?
[6]

Olivia Rafferty: Normally I can write about songs during my first listen, but for “Testament” I was thrown back in my chair. This song demands full attention, and it demands to be played loud. The scale of it is absolutely delicious: orchestra hits, sweeping strings, ominous chorals, dirty distorted guitars and electronic swoops. We’ve been given everything including the kitchen sink here, and what more could we ask for?
[8]

Joshua Minsoo Kim: Epic rawk guitars and dramatic strings to match — these are things you could use to describe Nana Mizuki songs from fourteen years ago or just last year. There’s more of a focused energy to “Testament” than her average anison (or anison-sounding) track, so it hits you like a huge gust of wind from the get-go. But as it goes on, its impact starts to diminish. By the time that bridge occurs at 2:40, I already feel like I’ve had enough of what this song has to offer. A rare case where the shortened music video is superior. One clocking in at 1:30 would’ve been fine too.
[4]

Ryo Miyauchi: If you’d told me that this was a leftover from Ayumi Hamasaki’s M(A)DE IN JAPAN, I would’ve totally believed you.
[6]

David Moore: Extra point for single-handedly raising the average 2017 Singles Jukebox BPM, I guess.
[5]

Patrick St. Michel: Anime theme songs need to convey a certain drama, which over the last decade has meant “lots of chugging guitars.” Nana Mizuki, a veteran of this industry, wisely beefs up “Testament” to be more than just J-rock runoff. She adds string swoops, a pulsing machine beat and plenty of vocal flair, letting her individual words get time to shine. Ultimately, this is still designed to be enjoyed as a minute-long opener before a show about idols fighting space aliens gets going, so there isn’t room to really explore more. But compared to most three-chords-and-done rock backing TV Tokyo franchises, this is solid. 
[5]

Sonia Yang: Mizuki was one of my favorite singers back in high school — having discovered her through one a minor anime voice role, I fell in love with her music instead. Wielding a husky vibrato (her original aspiration was to become an enka singer), she charmed me with cheesy retro tracks and sparkly anime theme songs alike. By the 2010s, Mizuki sat awkwardly in between the world of anisong and mainstream J-pop; too big to stay confined by the former but not quite daring enough to make a full leap into the latter. As a result, all her new singles after a certain point pander to a certain tired formula. “Testament” too falls into this trap, but it’s at least more inspired than some others. The driving synths and bombastic wailing remind me very much of the two singles she did in collaboration with T.M.Revolution, another legend in the anisong world. The verses and prechorus build tension wonderfully, but the chorus falters and loses some momentum, buoyed only by Mizuki’s powerful voice.
[5]

Katherine St Asaph: Best. “Cruel Summer” remix. Ever.
[6]

Ashley John: “Testament” is huge and booming, but careful enough that it doesn’t run away from itself. Nana Mizuki guides the song through warp speeds and slower interludes, but maintains control throughout. 
[5]

Tara Hillegeist: For all that “Testament” might feature a bridge about “wanting to protect that special smile”, it isn’t operating in a very pleasant register. Mizuki rushes her way through less a celebration of willpower and endurance and more a martial command — a Spartanlike dream of love so violent and singleminded that it still rings in the ears long after its chosen battlefield has gone. Nana Mizuki specializes in a certain kind of barbaric fauxperatic mode of pop song and this is no exception — even if the well hasn’t run dry she’s not managing anything new with the idea here. A rousing piece of vengeful symphonic-metal arrogance like “Forbidden Resistance“, “Testament” is not; like the late-night animated series it acts as promotional material for, it’s nothing but a petulant, tiresome retread that everyone involved with needs to either find a new perspective upon or outgrow already.
[4]

Time to find out if we’re ready for this…

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[6.50]

Madeleine Lee: “Jelly” is Hotshot’s first release in two years, in an attempt to hold on to the attention gained from two of their members’ participation in the messy, massive second season of Produce 101. One, Ha Sungwoon, made it to the final 11; the other, Noh Taehyun, became known for his tight choreography to a remix of “Shape Of You,” which was one of the show’s most successful moments. Another success was “Never,” the “deep house” concept song written by Hui of Pentagon and Triple H, and “Jelly” is looking to ride that same wave. It has a great beat, and its steady structure resists the temptation of random melodic shifts or tempo changes that would interfere with that great beat — a rare show of restraint from producers Devine Channel, who wrote the show’s cluttered “future EDM” concept song “Open Up.” But the beat is what dominates. Hotshot’s vocals are passable but lack personality or conviction, and it doesn’t help that the final 11 group, Wanna One, has released a better, more charismatic K-pop house track written by Hui. It may be that Hotshot’s obscurity comes from more than a lack of opportunity.
[6]

Patrick St. Michel: A lot of Korean pop in 2017 feels like a makeover of the 2009-2012 breakout period, except with better optics. Hearing “Jelly” initially made me think the high times of “View” and “4 Walls” were about to get the same treatment, but Hotshot’s latest is really just a continuation of a corner of the industry enamored with future-leaning electronic sounds, “Fly” maybe being the best comparison. It lacks a payoff, but “Jelly” ultimately sounds shiny and catchy. If anything, it could benefit from looking back and seeing how similar works delivered something big besides house-pop sheen. 
[6]

Olivia Rafferty: It’s like Caribou’s “Odessa” and SHINee’s “View” got together and had a beautiful, beautiful baby. “Jelly” has an unmistakable pulse that permeates and pushes through everything in the song, so by the time you’ve bopped around your bedroom to the first chorus, that “baby please don’t go” coming round the second time will jump out your throat before even asking permission.
[8]

David Moore: A K-pop “My Boo” with Futurama bell flourishes sounds pretty surefire to me. 
[7]

Nortey Dowuona: Nice synth bass, mildly tolerable 2011 synthesizers and disembodied shrieks. And the Auto-Tuned singing and rapping is really good.
[7]

Thomas Inskeep: At first you fear that it’s gonna be just another good-not-great EDM/K-pop single, but then the verse kicks in and it’s got a deep house tinge to it. And the tinge is actually a bit more than a tinge, and it endures for the entirety of the song. I’m not saying anyone’s gonna mistake this for Masters at Work, but it goes in a different direction than a lot of Hotshot’s contemporaries are currently going. Also, it’s dreamily romantic, and I’m still a sucker for that.
[8]

William John: Hotshot make use of what appears to be the very same ghostly, twitching preset employed by yesterday’s Jukebox subjects Fifth Harmony, but instead frame it in a manner far more athletic and dancefloor-ready. The beautiful sound design is offset by intermittent and superfluous English interjections, which break the spell somewhat.
[7]

Ryo Miyauchi: Hotshot skips out on trading precious words for a soothing beat drop, opting instead for a metronome pulse of a bass line. Though it certainly differentiates “Jelly” out of the pack, the decision comes with a consequence: while their peers seem relieved come the chorus, Hotshot seethes without an opportunity to let it all out. By the climax, “tell me what you want” sounds far from a sweet invitation; it’s now a desperate demand.
[7]

Adaora Ede: “Jelly” might not hold the surprise of a typical lead single of idol pop but falls sort of in line with K-pop’s 2015 house resurgence. Though its bass-rooted synth pop reminds me even more of T-ara’s deliberate EDM, but less baroscopic in tone. It’s not even that edgy, but outside of the short super cool robotic techno rap verse, most of the vocal performance doesn’t feel well-suited for the genre. The track falls out of Hotshot’s range; perhaps the whole group dynamic doesn’t work with a disco divo throwaway.
[6]

Joshua Minsoo Kim: For most of this decade, I’ve known Devine Channel as the production team behind numerous uninspired K-pop b-sides. While I’ve enjoyed some songs, I never considered them to be particularly noteworthy producers. That changed recently, and one particular reason was “Open Up,” an ambitious song written for Produce 101 that felt like a noteworthy addition to Korea’s collection of creative UK Garage–indebted tracks. “Jelly” may be Hotshot’s best single to date, but it’s hard not to see it as a disappointment in light of Devine Channel becoming more adventurous behind the boards. The vocal melodies don’t work in conjunction with the beat to provide a sense of propulsion, so the result is a song that ends up feeling noticeably hollow. From progenitor “View” to Devine Channel-written “Shangri-La” to Hotshot-affiliated “Energetic,” there are a lot of great, straightforward dance tracks to go around. Why settle for less?
[3]

Do miracles happen when they’re around? Well…

[Video][Website]
[4.50]

Alex Clifton: The song is pretty inoffensive, with Chris Martin singing the praises of men and women of colour (Muhammad Ali, Gandhi, Nelson Mandela, Mother Teresa, Rosa Parks, etc), although in a lot of ways it feels bizarre for a British band like Coldplay to make a statement on American immigration policy as they do in their lyric video. Big Sean’s verse speaks more directly to the American experience and slots in surprisingly well. I’m still not used to Coldplay as a dancey band, but it’s neat to hear their sound evolve. It’s a bit clunky, but maybe it will help a kid out there feel empowered the way that Coldplay made me feel powerful when I was 12. 
[6]

Joshua Minsoo Kim: Chris Martin’s your well-intentioned father, passing down wisdom he learned from grandpa decades ago. And while you appreciate the sentiment, Dad telling you that you’re special for the millionth time can only go so far. Which is why he went and talked to your older brother Big Sean and convinced him to stop by your bedroom and explain the same thing. He’s a bit of a goof, but you’ve taken his words to heart before; he has a certain way of speaking to you in a way that makes sense, talking from lived experience as a way to spur you on. You’re not sure if any of their words really meant anything this time around, but you’re still thankful.
[4]

Olivia Rafferty: I’m still not speaking to Coldplay after their Chainsmokers collab, but tell Chris Martin for me that they’ve done a better job returning to some of that Viva La Vida album flavour with this one. It’s warm, funky, but underlined by those string samples which give it a soberness that makes you feel something, whatever that something is. Bursting in with an acoustic jangle when the chorus hits, we’re all comfortably back in Coldplay Land, which isn’t something special, but it’s something decent.
[6]

Ryo Miyauchi: For all the haters complain about Coldplay providing feelings but no substance, it’s actually worse when Chris Martin actually tries to provide some kind of profundity. It’s just something he can’t do: he’s better off referencing heroes from myths than history.
[4]

Juana Giaimo: Most of “Miracles” follows Coldplay’s generic positive song approach. It has an encouraging message, loud but pleasing synths and Chris Martin’s usual tender voice. It’s so so nice, that Big Sean rapping that he is “trying to turn Ks to Ms” sounds like a parody of the song. 
[5]

Stephen Eisermann: Coldplay has always seemed like the younger U2 and I think this song further proves that they will inevitably become U2. Inspirational, sure, but also very boring; even Big Sean sounds disinterested as he delivers a pretty lackluster verse. I’m sure this will be featured in some rom-com or dramedy during the climactic epiphany of a main character, and I’ll roll my eyes then just as I did when I first heard the chorus. 
[4]

Scott Mildenhall: It might be slightly less of a miracle if you have a private education like Chris Martin or Big Sean, but so long as you don’t mention that, the muted inspiration won’t be tempered any further than intended. If listeners aren’t consciously aware of it, and only subconsciously aware of the demographics of Martin’s role call of icons, the song might even seem enlightened without being try-hard. But even as Devonian as he is, it’s hard to imagine Chris Martin’s father, fictional or otherwise, saying something like “look how good Cassius become”. In some ways “Miracles” does sound nice, with a clumsy-but-colloquial noun phrase invention like “bright in your brains” and its gentle vworping, but at the same time it seems to try its hardest to ring hollow.
[5]

Katherine St Asaph: The sad thing is, you’d get more substantive political commentary from the guys whose miracles involved fuckin’ magnets.
[2]

Today I feel 100, dumb and broke, but two out of three ain’t bad…

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[5.50]

Nellie Gayle: Khalid represents, to me, the Teen Vogue generation of socially conscious, introspective, yet lighthearted teens who put self-indulgent Rory Gilmore types (my high school archetype) to shame. A recent high school graduate, Khalid has a knack for self-awareness that isn’t deprecating or judgmental; he can reflect on experiences of teenagerdom without sounding condescending or as if he has now learned better. Instead, songs like “Young Dumb & Broke” are about being fully present in your adolescence while also seeing those experiences in a broader context. “Jump and we think, leave it all in the game of love/Run into sin, do it all in the name of fun.” Getting high, pondering your “it’s complicated” status with a significant other — it’s all good (yet meaningful) fun for Khalid, and that’s what makes him a new vanguard for millennial music.
[6]

David Moore: Everyone’s favorite somnabulant manifestation of vocal fry is back to tell you he’s young, dumb, broke, and high. I think I’d rather listen to “Because I Got High,” which I’m pretty sure was somehow faster than this.  
[3]

Nortey Dowuona: The soaring organs and bouncy 808s lift Khalid’s raspy, soulful voice as he describes his youth, his empty pockets and the woman he’s swooning for.
[7]

Crystal Leww: Khalid is my little brother who is still asking me for advice on how to woo his first girlfriend. American Teen is about five songs too long, but it’s one of my favorite debuts in recent memory. Khalid is so earnest — it’s like 75% of his brand — and this is so endearingly aware of youth and enjoying it.
[8]

Katherine St Asaph: A burnout teenager’s graduation song, like Green Day’s “Time of Your Life” or Shut Up Stella’s “These Are the Days” or — one dreads — Halsey’s “New Americana.” And for once, I buy it.
[6]

Ramzi Awn: High school memories are best conjured up with a certain sound — not with painfully simple lyrics that fail at nostalgia. As a rule, songs about being young are about as fresh as this wasted beat. Khalid’s voice does little to lift the stale theme out of deep water.
[1]

Joshua Minsoo Kim: Romanticized teen ennui as deadpan sing-along. Less a song than a Twitter feed you mindlessly scroll through to get your daily fill of bored musings and self-aware self-deprecation. Am I supposed to defend this to Baby Boomers?
[2]

Alfred Soto: Persuading adults from treating songs as sociological case studies can be as formidable a task as keeping the young from posing as the world’s first bored subculture. The static organ and Khalid’s drawl evoke the ennui of kids confusing that ennui for wisdom. The skies crack during the ya-ya-ya moment.
[5]

Anthony Easton: I am not sure that I am ready to get optimistic about precarity, and Khalid only does it when he is high. It’s a song that sounds like a stoned philosopher, syrup-sticky and slow. A decent if derivative chorus, though. 
[5]

Rebecca A. Gowns: It’s a simple little song with easy construction, like big bright LEGO blocks making a car with only three pieces. The verses don’t match the chorus at all but it doesn’t matter in a song like this, where the chorus is the point.
[9]

Stephen Eisermann: A chill anthem, exactly the type of music I would’ve wanted as the soundtrack to my life at 17/18. My favorite thing about Khalid and his terrific debut LP is that he does the opposite of what so many artists his age do — he acts and sings about things relevant to his age. He is in no hurry to grow up, relishing instead being young, fun, and dope.
[7]

Ashley John: I bought my little brother tickets to see Khalid this summer, and he paid me back in cash he earned from four shifts at his summer job, adding a little extra to make sure I’d keep my lips shut to our parents. He texted me when he left, again when he arrived at the venue, and twice more when he made it home safe. He didn’t tell me he drank, but I reminded him to drink water anyway. “Young Dumb & Broke” is unhinged but within careful boundaries, watching yourself dance and knowing how pretty the memory will be tomorrow.  
[7]

We’d comment on the VMA thing, but we value our inboxes too much…

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[5.89]

Ryo Miyauchi: A snappy delivery, an adoption of expletives, a rejection of a holy image: Fifth Harmony hit note for note what a girl group should do to appear grown out of their past. The checking of boxes comes off a bit too deliberate, though I’m more than satisfied to take home one seething line that the old 5H would never claim so boldly: “Open your eyes, I’m more brilliant than you’ll ever be.”
[6]

Stephen Eisermann: If 5H continues putting out music like this — sexy, edgy, fun, no fucks — then losing Camila will end up being the best thing that ever happened to this group. “Angel” has all four girls strutting, commanding, and owning this adult R&B composition without so much as a glance into their past.
[7]

Leonel Manzanares de la Rosa: Yet another example of “girl-group exploring more mature themes = embracing trap elements,” but the Skrillex/Poo Bear production — particularly those distorted manipulated synth-voice leads — works incredibly well in contrast with the girls’ ’90s R&B-inspired harmonies. Also noteworthy: Everybody has an equal part on the track. Fifth Harmony without Camila finally sounds like a true democracy. 
[7]

Nortey Dowuona: The harmonization is on point, but the drums are too heavy. Plus, the synths are all flat and grey and the bass synth clutters up the pre-chorus and chorus.
[6]

Eleanor Graham: Atmospherics in a Fifth Harmony single are kind of like ordering peach Fanta from the drinks machine at Five Guys and getting gin and tonic — cool, but it’s 11 a.m. on a Tuesday, and I didn’t know it was on the menu. The darker mood doesn’t jar, however. The hook is mistily inoffensive, and Lauren Jauregui’s pre-chorus is a smouldering high point. But it’s no “No Angel.” largely due to its failure to build a world around its central lyrical conceit — a strategy Fifth Harmony pursued obsessively on their biggest hit.
[5]

Alex Clifton: 5H shoot for “edgy and dangerous” and land squarely in “generic and slurred.” These girls can do better — and if they’re “more brilliant” as they claim, they need to up their game.
[2]

Olivia Rafferty: The new Fifth Harmony single doesn’t have that hit factor that would normally be delivered by a killer melodic hook, like in “That’s My Girl” or “Work.” But the girls have slid a little further into R&B pop since Camila’s departure, which gives a more sultry taste to their music. “Angel” has dynamic peaks and troughs, but they’re not overtly noticeable. The tastiest part is Normani and Lauren’s verses in the opening.
[7]

Alfred Soto: Sung from the point of view of a Drake object, subject, or — from the plaintive vocals on this track — victim, “Angel” uses the stutters and distorted haunted house vocal samples familiar to Tinashe listeners. If this cautionary tale and affirmation makes the top five, consider it a rebuke, Aubrey.
[6]

Joshua Minsoo Kim: A song built not on unwavering confidence but on insecurity. The cries are spoken and directed at another but meant more for healing of self. And without the unique timbre of Camila’s voice, Fifth Harmony sounds like a consolidated unit, sustaining the song’s agitated mood. Like a shouting-filled breakup fight, the emotions are stronger when words aren’t spoken; those periods of pure instrumentation in the chorus are the aural equivalent of quivering lips, of frequent sniffling, of struggled attempts at maintaining eye contact. And when the bridge appears, it’s like running your fingers across the song’s canvas. The physicality of “Angel” is wholly felt, and the pain that fuels these lyrics is intimately understood.
[7]

Brofege…

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[3.22]

Hannah Jocelyn: The album cover is pretty indicative — an attempted midpoint between the Chainsmokers and the Weeknd, “Do Re Mi” is as crass as the former while trying to capture the ominous mood of the latter. It’s not as heinous as something like “Break Up Every Night,” but “you never had to buy yourself a drink/’Cause everybody wants to tap that ass sometime” — among many others —  places itself in close proximity to that song’s lazy misogyny. Gucci Mane does absolutely nothing. 
[3]

Katherine St Asaph: Blackbear’s credits, abridged: writing Justin Bieber’s “Boyfriend,” writing for G-Eazy and Machine Gun Kelly. Add Mike Posner and Rivers Cuomo, and you’ve got an entire damn frat. Now imagine the frat’s side of a Tove Lo song. Did the Rodgers and Hammerstein estate object to “bitch, a dog, a female dog”?
[1]

Alfred Soto: If Blackbear didn’t rely on that drip-drip-drip delivery lubricated with flat crooning, I’d mind his pardon-me-I’m-a-dirtbag schtick.
[3]

Iain Mew: There’s something extra queasy about a guy leaning into this kind of high-strung, flirting-with-goofy alt-pop sound. It’s an approach that’s been led by women — I think of Halsey and of Melanie Martinez, who I could so easily imagine having done a better spin on this chorus — and Blackbear has applied it to a breakup song that substitutes casual misogyny for any emotional detail.
[2]

Joshua Minsoo Kim: This is the sound of bravado blinding one to their own petulance. I’m supposed to be convinced that this “bitch” is crazy for cheating on this guy, but all Blackbear proves is that maybe he deserved it. The instrumentation lurches in an overly serious manner, with pitch-shifted vocals and the sound of shattering glass pushing “Do Re Mi” to the point of utter parody.
[1]

David Moore: It probably shouldn’t bother me so much that they’re not actually singing do re mi fa sol. If you were curious, they’re singing do me fa sol te. For cryin’ out loud, who makes cheap solfege jokes in a minor key?
[3]

Will Rivitz: I never thought I’d say “minus points for Guwop,” but here we are. The original “Do Re Mi” is one of my favorite songs in months, exactly what should happen when you translate caustic, Xanned-out SoundCloud rap for the Fall Out Boy crowd. Blackbear has an excellent understanding of how to do more with less, turning a four-note bassline and ostinato bells into the most sneakily infectious chorus of the year. Gucci’s verse, meanwhile, is roughly equivalent to Juicy J’s snoozer on Katy Perry’s “Dark Horse,” sounding like it was written in 10 minutes and recorded while the rapper was scrolling through Twitter — plus its inclusion means the original’s excellent mood-swing pitched-down bridge got tossed. It’s a barely-passing remix of an high-honors song, so a [7] seems about right.
[7]

Nortey Dowuona: Propulsive 808s, flat synths. Gucci flows coolly without freezing over — wait, whose song was this?
[5]

Elisabeth Sanders: This is fine, but not as good as anything on the Mansionsz album.
[4]

It’s a Song.

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[4.57]

Crystal Leww: 2 Chainz puts out a great single every year and a couple of really fun guest verses, but his output overall is fairly uneven, probably suffering from a constant need to crank out content to see what sticks. “It’s a Vibe” is chock full of guests who add very little and a desire to make “it’s a vibe” an anthem that sticks like “watch out lil bitch” did. Ty Dolla $ign and Trey Songz don’t add anything, Jhené Aiko is actively sleeping through this whole thing, and 2 Chainz doesn’t do enough to redeem his guests.
[4]

Nortey Dowuona: Thick, bouncy drums buoy the slight gasps of piano and guitar while the bass circles them all, looking for an in. Meanwhile, Trey and Ty struggle sing around it as well, until 2 Chainz drops right in the middle perfectly without knocking anything askew and making all connect. (Also, Jhene killt it.)
[7]

Julian Axelrod: We know 2 Chainz can carry his own song. We know he can steal someone else’s song. So why stuff his single with unnecessary features? This sounds like a VH1 reality show where three singers audition for the honor of delivering a decent hook on a subpar 2 Chainz song. Trey Songz fares best by deploying the ingenious “sing more than four notes” strategy. But there’s no winners here, including The Artist Formerly Known As Tity Boi: How does a rapper who made his name on bawdy double entendres come up with such a boring verse on his own sex jam? There’s lots of things happening in this song, but a vibe is not one of them.
[4]

Ryo Miyauchi: Driven by a similar “hook stretched out into an entire song” ethos, this sounds more or less like an extravagant version of a Lil Uzi Vert song with the rapper’s work divided among three R&B singers. Out of the trio, Trey Songz comes close to making more from what’s given. 2 Chainz, however, sounds like a guest in his own song.
[5]

Thomas Inskeep: Murda Beatz and G Koop have crafted a lovely track for 2 Chainz to completely waste. I’d say that the song would be better without Chainz on it, but the reality is that none of the vocalists have anything to say, so I can’t place all the blame on him.
[4]

Ian Mathers: After the first 40 seconds I was honestly hoping this was just going to be the four of them repeating slight variations on the title phrase for the full length of the song, and damn if they didn’t almost go that route. Minus a point for lacking the courage to all the way into full-on monotone brilliance, though.
[6]

Joshua Minsoo Kim: Much to my surprise, I’m into the idea of having these three featured artists phone in variations on a hook. If you’re gonna capitalize on their ability to sound anonymous and dull, you might as well go all in, right? Their presence also has the side effect of allowing a humorless 2 Chainz verse to sound somewhat interesting, if only for its utility as a structural break in the song. In the end, the “vibe” ends up being greater than the sum of its parts. A shame it’s still so forgettable.
[2]

Still waiting on a song to incorporate “Schlemiel! Schlimazel! Hasenpfeffer Incorporated!” into its hook…

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[4.71]

Thomas Inskeep: Fred Jerkins III is Rodney “Darkchild” Jerkins’s brother, and accordingly, he’s had a hand in plenty of R&B smashes-cum-classics over the past 20+ years, like “The Boy Is Mine,” “Say My Name,” and “It’s Not Right But It’s Okay.” But he’s also been producing gospel records over much of that time, the latest being “Come and Knock on Our Door” — which, yes, does sample the infamous theme from Three’s Company, but switches it up, using it to encouraging you to go/return to church. Dolly has personality to spare (he rose to fame initially as backup singer/hype man for gospel star Tye Tribett) and a lovely, impossibly high falsetto that brings to mind Donny Hathaway. Jerkins’s touch behind the boards here is nice and light; he knows to let Dolly shine as brightly as possible on this upbeat gospel/R&B track, and that sample hooks you in smartly.
[7]

Alfred Soto: Interpolating the Three’s Company hook is the year’s worst idea, and the rest sounds like The Lonely Island.
[2]

Nortey Dowuona: The sample is surprisingly goofy, then the rest of the song slides in, with the slick, soft bass, twinkling keys, popping drums, and the angel’s chorus led by an angel himself, Jermaine Dolly. And it feels so happy and sunny and yet still patronizing and condescending….. but that VOICE.
[8]

Olivia Rafferty: Someone took a Casey Neistat vlog to church. Maybe I watch too much YouTube, but the proliferation of “vlog music” is almost unbearable these days — the most popular royalty-free music that starts with a vinyl sample of some vague, forgotten oldie, and then the stutter, then the drop. This song differs in that it’s a gospel number, so we get moments of light falsetto and lush harmonies, but sadly they get lost under a clickety hi-hat with trap aspirations (aspirations that are never quite reached). Saving graces for this song are those little vocal instances of sweetness.
[4]

Ian Mathers: As someone not raised in a(ny) church but who sometimes still enjoys religious music, I actually vastly prefer it when the musicians are preaching to the proverbial choir; it’s a lot easier to appreciate devotion and joy than it is to listen to someone trying to hector you to change your behaviour (I may admit to feeling, in the right circumstance, like pop music is something approaching a secular religion, but no song has ever made me change my religious beliefs). To do so in falsetto over a Three’s Company interpolation that acknowledges that plenty of people who’ve left the church have done so for good reason without really providing a counterargument is… less than compelling. Which is too bad, because if you listen to something like the effervescent, slow-rolling “You,” it seems like Dolly is totally capable of putting that falsetto to better use.
[3]

Joshua Minsoo Kim: Oh dear. This is the musical equivalent of a youth group pastor trying to “reach the lost” by doing something he considers hip but coming off incredibly corny in the process. The decision to sample the Three’s Company theme song is not only incredibly lame, it sort of makes this all feel like a joke. Like, it’s not too hard to envision this same song attempted by a parody artist or a sketch comedy cast. The only difference would be the inclusion of incessant double entendres to honor the horniest television show of the late 70s.
[1]

Josh Langhoff: Here’s something to either entice you or send you running for the hills. At its best, Jermaine Dolly’s album The Dolly Express reminds me of the first Big & Rich album. Like those guys, Dolly has the gift of being corny, beautiful, and maybe even arch all at once. Lacking a singing partner, Dolly multitracks his own voice into multitudes, then invites more multitudes of every race and creed to party with him and share in his extended train metaphors. He also finds deep pockets of groove in unexpected places, as on “Come and Knock,” where he duets with Ray “Not That Ray Charles” Charles to entice listeners to church. Volumes of despondent ecclesial research suggest his invitation itself won’t work; but Dolly’s personality is winning enough that I, for one, would be giddy to sit in whichever service he’s leading.
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It’s no smashing a pager with a baseball bat while standing in a wind tunnel, but it’ll do…

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Hannah Jocelyn: During a long car ride, I played this for my parents. Their initial reactions are as follows, real but paraphrased;  Mom: this [piano line] is a total copy of that Lorde thing  Dad: they’re probably playing this at SoulCycle  Mom: She’s so good at singing her own harmony… but I don’t like this as much as some of the other stuff. A few days later, it came on the radio ; Mom: This grew on me a lot, I love her voice. Dad: You know, I’ve always been a fan of hers, especially with that one song. [hums the na-na-na part from “So What”] Cut to: 2026. “What About Us”, despite a litigation attempt by Disney over the use of certain rhymes, has been number one worldwide for several years. P!nk has been crowned Queen of Australia. Copperfamily, In Monotonous Unison: Holy balls this song owns.
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Alfred Soto: She’s good at yearning, and with the EDM rhythms rolling beneath her during the chorus she sounds like Ann Wilson singing through synth strings in the mid eighties. And “What About Us” isn’t much better than “What About Love.”
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Olivia Rafferty: I suppose this generation will be good for pumping out a few “children of the revolution” songs. P!nk goes for this subject matter over some heartfelt EDM-pop thumping. No doubt she gets that inflection of emotion on those top notes in the chorus, but if this is a pop song that’s meant to really communicate something, shouldn’t it stand out from all the rest?
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Will Adams: The reason P!nk’s decade-long settling into pleasant uplift has worked so well is that she consistently sounds like she believes what she’s singing. “What About Us” is one of the better iterations, sticks-n-stones indulgences notwithstanding. The slow-build is where she excels, the tumbling melody is well-suited to her voice, and the mid-tempo stomp remains graceful instead of plodding.
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Scott Mildenhall: Well yes, but who is “us”? “Billions of beautiful hearts” suggests quite a large constituency, even if some belong to octopuses. Could it be, in fact, that P!nk is speaking on behalf of the whole world? In combining a love song with “Earth Song”, where “us” is apparently everyone, but “you” could easily be an ex, she runs the risk of her supreme existential angst coming over as ill-conceived bandwagoning on discord in her part of the world, and that would be unfortunate. At least she’s focused on things that unite a lot of people — post-2011 Coldplay rave, for instance — but the hypergeneralistic lyrics are a distraction from the palpable emotion she’s harnessed better many times before.
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Joshua Minsoo Kim: A nonspecific rallying cry whose music and lyrics are both inoffensive and blandly inspirational in order to resonate with the masses. Unfortunately, a song about everything is always going to be a song about nothing.
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Ashley John: Driven by P!nk’s incredible voice, “What About Us” soars and shimmers, taking a perfectly average track and adding meaning and weight. Where another artist might make this song sound redundant, P!nk layers her voice so that it builds a steady momentum driving the song beautifully upward. P!nk will probably never be called innovative or challenging, but she brings an earnestness and truth to all her work, which makes it all worth a second listen.
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Alex Clifton: Is this song about fighting against 45? Is it about feeling broken-hearted about the state of the US? Is it about God abandoning humanity in 2017? This is a literal political broken-hearted club-thumper. Pink’s vocals are amazing as always, although the lyrics are weirdly oblique for a politically-charged song. Whatever this is, it’s something that could only come out this year, for better or worse–and it’s nice to have an actual upbeat song about fighting. The year of the Darkest Timeline continues. 
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One, two, three, four, five, [6.00] points on the Jukebox…

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Alfred Soto: After Playboi Carti spun surreal rhymes using surreal-er emphases under similarly spare circumstances, I expect more from 21 Savage. The hook sits there, waiting for an electrical shock, and the track dissolves. “Somnolent” is not the adjective I would’ve used for him.
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Hannah Jocelyn: The beat is great, and props to 21 for pulling something together that musically stands toe to toe with “No Heart.” Yet beyond that, there’s nothing else special, just a repetitive hook that self-consciously tries to capture a mystique no longer there, and it’s disappointing when there seemed like such possibility with that single. I kind of want to end this with, like, “Young Savage, why you trying so hard?”, but there are just enough interesting things to keep my attention.
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Ryo Miyauchi: Probably not the most original idea, but my friends and I like to recite this song’s counting hook but with M replaced by any commonplace item. The fun we find is unintentional, I imagine, considering how grim the details hang around the chorus; the hook itself is a threat as it is a sign of paranoia. But that’s also the experience of a 21 Savage song, where the environment is so hellish, any slight crack of a grin feels like a breath of fresh air.
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David Moore: If you’re looking for the 21 Savage track to convince you that you should in any way care about 21 Savage, this probably isn’t it — try “Nothin New,” which is so good that it creates a halo effect around his more generic stuff. Here, I like the plaintive guitar figure and the rubbery bass, and, especially, the grim determination with which 21 Savage will grind through a monotonous chorus (of sorts) until it functions as a mantra (“…in my bank account, in my bank account, in my bank account, in my bank account”). It’s a technique more effective on “Numb,” where he all but coughs up the emotional fallout (“numb the pain with the money numb the pain with the money numb the pain with the money numb the pain with the…”).
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Nortey Dowuona: Dec raps, dec 808s, and great sample.
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Joshua Minsoo Kim: High school only started last week but there’s already one rapper that I know my students love: 21 Savage. They’ve been inspired to sing the chorus to “Bank Account” when counting off to form small groups, but there have been just as many times that it’s been uttered unprompted. It’s not the best song on Issa Album (that would be “Nothin New,” “Numb,” or “Thug Life“), but it has one of the album’s most memorable hooks. And as a first single, it helps to crystallize 21 Savage’s persona in a new era post-Savage Mode and Drake co-sign. On Savage Mode, 21 Savage adopted a relatively monotonous tone and delivery in order to amplify the grim subject matter of his lyrics. Paired with Metro Boomin’s most lethargic beats, its nine tracks were all-consuming worlds that felt equal parts haunting and dead-eyed. 21 Savage emerges from those hazy nights on Issa Album, but it’s clear that much hasn’t changed. While “Bank Account” is an opportunity for 21 to brag about his Ferrari and YSL jacket, it’s just as much about reminding everyone that he’s the last person you want to mess with. The guitar melody in particular helps to clarify that. It’s sampled from Coleridge-Taylor Perkinson’s “Flashbulbs,” a song from The Education of Sonny Carson. The film chronicles the early life of the titular political activist while touching on the reality of gang violence and police brutality in Brooklyn. Common and Ghostface sampled dialogue from the film as a way to launch into thematically similar lyrics, but 21 goes two steps further: he uses a specific song from the soundtrack, and he subverts the specific intention it had in the film. Halfway through Education, Sonny robs someone and is later found handcuffed, interrogated, and violently beat by police officers. We then see images of mug shots being taken and Sonny standing in a jail cell. “Flashbulbs” starts playing and it’s meant to highlight our deep grieving for the entire situation (Why did Sonny rob someone? He needed money for flowers that he wanted to get for a recently deceased friend). 21 has no time for sadness though, and the guitar’s delicate playing carries with it a teetering anxiety when juxtaposed with a constantly pounding, blown-out kick drum. It’s neither pretty nor calming in this context, and it’s a reminder that 21’s both serious about his threats and very much remorseless. For someone who’s never shied away from emphasizing his authenticity, “Bank Account” makes one thing clear: 21’s fame and success haven’t fazed him.
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