Writing no words would have been cheating, so here’s 500 of them instead.

[Video][Website]
[6.00]

Micha Cavaseno: Dave always manages to work with industry peers of the UK Rap Scene and sedate their obvious bangers into coffeeshop music, almost working as a sort of soft-hands ambassador, the ‘translator’ for those who find the hoodies and screwfaces of his self-appointed peers getting lost in translation. Thankfully though, “No Words” is effective  because he has the sense to leech off the much MUCH more potent personality of MoStack to carry the record. Is this essentially a glossy attempt at selling records like “Liar Liar” and “Let It Ring” to the kids who find artists like Kojo Funds or Abra Cadabra unseemly? Easily. But does it recognize the actual strengths that made those records good? Somehow it does.
[6]

Ryo Miyauchi: Dave and MoStack’s somewhat petty Smartphone-related preoccupations add a slightly interesting quirk to an otherwise cliched claim of their power. Hiding text notifications and frustration from fabricated displays of lifestyle via Instagram: these goons are bothered by very millennial problems.
[5]

Anjy Ou: This is my new “fly and unbothered” song. Both Dave and MoStack are good singers and rappers, and their performances actually work with the instrumental and feel like integral elements of the song, as opposed to just sitting on top of it as it is with many other songs.The crisp production is killer — I especially like the end of the track where it gradually distorts and breaks up into discrete parts. This self-released track has already cracked the UK Top 30, and the Top 10 of the UK indie and R&B charts, so I think it’s safe to say Dave is poised for greatness.
[8]

Iain Mew: The half-hearted Afro Bashment moves musically leave a lot of the burden on their words to bring the personality. MoStack comes through better than Dave, but even that’s an even split — forcing “messages” and “massages” to rhyme not quite there; “says ‘fuck you’, then fucks me” much better.
[5]

Julian Axelrod: Dave’s hook finds the exact midpoint between steely and suave, delivering a long-lost Backstreet Boys ballad over glassy, dead-eyed UK trap. He seems a little sleepy on the verses until MoStack mambos around the beat, reminding Dave he can have fun and reference The Incredibles and whatnot. Their energy is infectious, egging each other on as they trade off verses. And by the time they come back to that hook, it’s even better than you remember. This Mo and Dave? That’s bangers.
[7]

Edward Okulicz: This is definitely a well-produced rap ballad banger hybrid with a strong hook that has a slightly mournful, pensive feel that doesn’t seem to gel with the words but is extremely effective. Weirdly, I feel like Dave’s been reduced to the role of a hook singer on his own track, because his verse flies by without leaving much impact beyond lifting a rhyme from a Shaggy chorus. Or maybe it’s because his presence is felt much better on his singing part? MoStack’s verses aren’t brilliant either but in throwing out more punches he lands more.
[7]

Ashley John: The foray into singing instead of rapping here isn’t unwelcome, and knowing that it’s not all Dave can do. As a stand alone, “No Words” is sluggish, but as a light reprieve after “How I Met My Ex,” it makes more sense. 
[4]

Despacito? Nope, never heard of it.

[Video][Website]
[5.33]

Alex Clifton: The arrangement of this song completely washes out Demi Lovato’s vocals, which is weird because her voice is usually the strongest point of any song. Something feels like it’s missing here — the chorus comes and goes in the blink of an eye and isn’t strong enough to catch in your head, and Luis Fonsi, bless him, hasn’t struck gold the way he did with “Despacito.” I can already see this as “the failed follow-up” on an episode of Todd in the Shadows’ One-Hit Wonderland.
[4]

Alfred Soto: In its own way Fonsi’s performance surpasses what he pulled off in “Despacito,” and he’s got a singing partner ready to look him in the eye.
[6]

Katherine St Asaph: Should be a cynical attempt to replicate “Despacito”‘s chart position via tween star while ignoring the lackadaisical joke the tween star made of his contribution; should also be a saccharine bowdlerized attempt, the Latin version of Olly Murs’ “Up” Except that Lovato’s effervescent enough to sell the unsellable likes of “I don’t really really want to fight anymore,” animated enough to hold her own with Fonsi. 
[5]

Edward Okulicz: So much sunshine I don’t even believe they’ve broken up. The production, galloping down the street throwing thousand-mile wide smiles at everything in its path, swallows its singers and its own chorus whole, not even spitting out the bones. Any particular second of this song sounds like another, and the relentlessness is too much. Fonsi is about the third most prominent thing on his own song, which is odd to me. Also, Lovato’s English verses feel like interlopers.
[5]

Stephen Eisermann: A terrific, pulsing little ditty about two ex-lovers who care too much about each other to blame the other for the failure of their romantic relationship. It’s catchy, light-hearted, and Luis serves as a great counterpart to Demi’s belting. Honestly, the only thing wrong with the song is that there is an English portion at all — major props to Demi for the excellent Spanish verse.
[7]

Andy Hutchins: The deep, irredeemable awfulness of Demi’s “Hey, Fonsi!” being there as an cystic audio tag aside, this is a bouncy, light song for the first verse and first hook — Fonsi is clearly having even more fun than he did with “Despacito,” and Demi is singing in stunningly good Spanish for someone who has never really done that professionally. Then comes the second verse, which is so painfully an attempt to write the most universal English verse possible that it comes off as Great Value songwriting, saps all the fun of the track, and ruins the illusion that this isn’t just a “Despacito” riff knocked out rapidamente with the biggest name who would agree to try a little harder in the studio on the Spanish verse than Bieber did. That no one heard this and thought “Demi’s verse is gonna sound utterly incongruous with the first to most white folks” is odd. That no one heard Demi’s verse, stapled on to an otherwise uncannily effervescent song about choosing to lay arms down and lie down in arms, and scrapped the idea entirely? That’s a massive misread of the rise of pop in Spanish — it’s because of the hispanohablantes in the first fucking place, stupid.
[5]

And the not-so-likey, likey, likey…

[Video][Website]
[5.17]

Josh Langhoff: Around the scaffold of a four-chord dembow-derived banger, Caracas-born producers Motiff and Oscarcito toss a Coco-caliber color splatter of flute, guitar, trombones, and shouting, climaxing in a burnished guitar solo by someone who deeply admires Carlos Santana. Lopez’s anonymity remains her voice’s most recognizable feature, but she and Wisin command the track anyway, connecting their lines to the drums while their accompanists underline and highlight.
[6]

Stephen Eisermann: A song about nasty, sweaty, passionate sex should be equally grimy, sexy, and intense, and this song isn’t that. Jenny and Wisin do their best to sell the lyrics, but against this dated kitchen-sink production, they come across as two people trying too hard.
[3]

Alfred Soto: Like Penélope Cruz in Almodóvar films, Jennifer Lopez is fresher and friskier singing in Spanish, and while “Amor, Amor, Amor” gives her no opportunity to coo like Andrea True, she does sound like something is at stake. Wisin’s flute hook helps.
[6]

Will Adams: It’s only occurring to me now how well brass can work in EDM buildups. Meanwhile, Lopez is at her warmest and most inviting in years. I just wonder if she’s able to carry a song by herself at this point.
[6]

Edward Okulicz: You can’t fault Lopez’s professionalism, but despite giving it her all (as she always does) the major takeaway from this is that flutes and brass can contribute to the bang quotient of a fairly minor banger. All the presence Lopez has in the video disappears when I listen to the song in isolation, which to me seems a constant when she sings in Spanish. It reminds me of how she once said she didn’t think she could act well in Spanish. Might as well have credited the flute as a guest performer for its sterling contribution.
[5]

Katherine St Asaph: It’s a bad sign when you’re a star at Jennifer Lopez or Wisin’s level, yet you’re upstaged by a flute sample.
[5]

And its corresponding feeling, the fake likey…

[Video][Website]
[6.33]

Alfred Soto: Paramore know about fake happy. Their best songs scoff any notion of the romantic hangover, sneer at matching form and content. The slight hysteria in the chorus (“ohhhh PLEASE”), however, complements the plastic skank and programmed sounds. Whether these bits are enough to disinter a moribund record we’ll find out soon enough; at best it may remind listeners that Paramore’s songwriting continues to deepen.
[7]

Will Adams: It’s easy to be drawn in by the fuzzed-out intro and subsequent synth bursts, but “fake happy” as a concept is too on-the-nose. Like the frowny emojis superimposed on everyone’s faces in the video, it’s telling instead of showing.
[5]

Ashley John: I read The Catcher in the Rye on my own a year before it was assigned reading, and I remember thanking Salinger for putting into words the teenage isolation that plagued me. A year later when we dissected it in my junior English class, my teacher stunned 17-year old me by saying that Holden Caulfield is actually insufferable. “Fake Happy” gives me remnants of that feeling, though I think Hayley Williams’ storytelling is sturdier against the wear of time. At one angle “Fake Happy” is petulant and tired, but Williams gives the tale of repressed emotions a new slant. Unlike Holden, she’s resigned to playing the part, wearing the mask, bearing her teeth, because she knows that we all are doing the same. 
[7]

Ryo Miyauchi: “Fake happy” is a rather makeshift phrase to describe this condition, though this is one of those times where language fails to provide an exact word. Hayley Williams’s voice isn’t precise either, better suited to carry emotional rawness than anything poetic. But the rough materials are exactly what’s needed for this song, where no wise metaphor can provide the relief or impact of just shouting out the matter.
[9]

Edward Okulicz: It’s interesting how “Fake Happy” gets so much into four minutes, from the acoustic intro to the ba-da-da middle section (cut from the same cloth as “Ain’t It Fun”). But this otherwise impeccable-sounding track is damaged by cookie-cutter lyrics (“mascara tears,” really?) and a chorus that doesn’t catch fire no matter how much gas Hayley Wiliams pours on it.
[6]

Stephen Eisermann: The verses and pre-chorus are cool, and the song offers an interesting premise, but that chorus, man — talk about a song killer. I can’t even hear a melody in it. If they had just toned down the guitar, turned down the volume, and reminded Hayley that you don’t have to yell in every song, this could’ve been way better. 
[4]

Katherine St Asaph: Discovery: Acoustic Hayley Williams sounds startlingly like Christine Fellows, though I’m sure I’m just falling for fake plaintive that lasts 30 seconds. The lyric has been done better by virtually everyone, and the comparisons that strike me aren’t nearly as welcome (the melodies are Shontelle’s “Impossible,” the chorus is some slab of Southern-rock steak, the bridge is the same ironic-jingle cliche that diluted St. Vincent’s “Pills”) but that’s not as much of a problem as the colorless neon ’80s perking fustily all over everything. I think this makes me a rockist now?
[4]

Joshua Minsoo Kim: The acoustic intro is a mistake, drawing attention to the seriousness of the song while spoiling the impact of the chorus’s final line. Even then, “Fake Happy” is exceedingly drab, its dull synthesizers and self-referential “bada-bada-ba-ba” bridge being the biggest culprits. But this is a song for Hayley, and the chorus is an opportunity for catharsis. I don’t think I fully understood that until I tried singing it myself, drowning everything around me out (including the instrumentation).
[6]

Hannah Jocelyn: This song is a masterclass in less-is-more; the entire verse and pre-chorus hang on Cmaj7, building suspense until it finally resolves on G major in the chorus. Even the intensely glossy production can’t stop the entrance —  “OH PLEASE!” —  from hitting with maximum impact. As wonderful as Hayley’s performance and lyrics are, Zac Farro’s drumming carries “Fake Happy,” like a friend insisting you go out and stop with all your “it’s not real” crap. Hayley’s lyrics are not Wallflower-y in the slightest, though, because the “everyone” includes herself, trying to exist when all signs point to existence not being that great.
[9]

Title checks out.

[Video][Website]
[8.00]

Jessica Doyle: At first listen “Likey” seems underwhelming by Twice standards, as even applying the full force of Sana to “me likey, me likey likey likey” doesn’t result in a skull piercing along the lines of “neomu hae, neomu hae” or “kung, kung” or even “sign-EUL BONAE, sig-NEUL BONAE.” (The closest we get is Momo pouting about BB cream and lipstick, and she’s immediately followed by a more conciliatory Tzuyu.) Lyrically it could even be read as a continuation of “TT,” the members painting themselves as emotional messes at the mercy of the listener. The difference is in the potential for an alternate reading: Twice as emotional messes at the mercy of the audience, Twice given the opportunity to acknowledge the constant mental-health assault that is idol life. Everything feels like a careful signal (…bonae), from Jihyo as leader holding the camera and talking about the small screen, to the tourist-pristine presentation of Vancouver in the background, to Dahyun’s brief trap interlude, to the slouchier outfits of the dance-practice video. “Likey” doesn’t have to be Twice’s catchiest or most distinctive single when it can be Twice’s smartest.
[7]

Alfred Soto: A haiku of romantic need, “Likey” recalls prime Stock-Aiken-Waterman in its concentration: boom boom boom it goes, its breathy vocals and hint of woodblock percussion leading the charge, until this time it knows it’s for real.
[7]

Iain Mew: “Likey” is another proof for the interpretation that made me love “Cheer Up” — that it was a demonstration of what happens when you play along with a role with such absolute conviction that real emotions and portrayed emotions begin to blur. In “Likey” the same theme is both more heartbreakingly explicit lyrically, and present again in the music. There’s no fixed-grin mega-chorus this time, but bursts of a buoyant, colourful twist on the K-pop-house wave. Each chorus plays out like a perfectly presented social media life, splashing across all the complexities and effort they sing about going on outside of it. 
[9]

Katie Gill: I’m a sucker for Twice. They’re a group that knows how to have fun, which shines through in their performances and sound, and I’m always here for their bright bubbly bubblegum pop. Add in those fun synths and an amazingly fun prechorus/rap break, and you’ve got a song that’s tailor-made for me to fall in love with it. I just wish that they didn’t hang the chorus on such an awkward phrase as “me likey.”
[7]

Mo Kim: “Like is such a common word, not enough to express my feelings,” Mina laments in the chorus. Nayeon is more conciliatory: “But I like you, even if I can’t sleep, even if I’m late.” And Sana, by now a familiar and comforting presence, chirps back in ironic response: “Me likey, me likey likey likey, me likey likey likey.” It may be the best-executed joke in their entire discography: if there’s one thing that Twice has mastered, it’s the gap between what we know we feel and what we know how to say, and how that gap gets mediated through cinema cosplay, hooks as persistent as a lovestruck teenager, and alien soundscapes. “Likey” draws on all of those strengths, washing the anxiety of a social-media crush through pastel pink filters and emerging as the group’s surprisingly soulful thesis statement.
[10]

Alex Clifton: A sugary-sounding song about a love/hate relationship with social media described in addictive terms. The struggle to project an ideal version of oneself on social media, to put effort into the perfect selfie, is nothing new, but I’ve never heard it described in a song in such opposite terms–yes, it’s a struggle; yes, it’s something we enjoy; yes, I need that rush of dopamine any time someone likes my posts to function. I’ve tried to wean myself off social media this year, but I’ve still felt the pressure to word things perfectly to gain the most appropriate attention. How do I make this funny? How do I make this unusual? How do I make this particular post–and, by extension, myself–wholly likeable? To hear it all jumbled so starkly in such a song–especially one that’s rigorously upbeat, one that could play in the background quietly and maybe slip out of notice as a standard pop song–is magnificent.
[8]

Leonel Manzanares de la Rosa: I’ve always enjoyed how Twice likes to get busy, production-wise. This time there’s a fuzzy guitar intro joining a line of bubbly synths, a cascade of slow arpeggios in the verses, and even a half-time trap breakdown in the bridge. And I’m glad that the inconsistencies in their previous singles are a thing of the past, but why don’t they just sound as exciting as they used to? “Signal” was absolutely divisive, but was it really their creative peak? 
[6]

Ryo Miyauchi: Out of all of the animated parts, Momo’s drive the story home. Her pout about makeup before the chorus goofs around as much as it runs frantic from all of the upkeep the girls have to do for that perfect Instagram picture. The others are more concerned to hit the right vocal spots to reveal just how much they’re breaking a sweat, but that’s Twice for you: the sugary beats and ditzy voices mask a deliriousness from all this need for attention.
[7]

Joshua Minsoo Kim: In virtually every aspect of “Likey,” production duo Black Eyed Pilseung capture the inwardly frantic yet outwardly calm nature of using social media as an avenue for affirmation. It’s more structurally complex than “TT” and “Knock Knock,” but more cohesive than “Signal” and “Cheer Up.” This middle ground proves apt, as the song’s constant innovations and driving energy mirror the constant shifting of attention one experiences while scrolling through endless feeds of content. One could argue that the pre-chorus’s winding melody brings the song to a halt, but this only bolsters the song’s conceit. Compared to the rest of “Likey,” the vocalizing there registers as conversational. But it isn’t long before we’re pulled away into the chorus’s onslaught of Twice-as-hell catchphrases, transfixed by the sound of people transfixed by their screens. It’s a statement in and of itself: how could the real world possibly hold up to the notifications that blow up our phones? The entire song is sprinkled with onomatopoeiac representations that drive home this half-serious point: applying BB cream and lipstick, a crowd of people cheering, an angelic choir praising us in the chorus. And the only possible way “Likey” could have started is with its blaring horns and bouncing synthline–fanfare fit for a professional athlete’s entrance music. We’re ultimately left with our prized possession: a “Heart! Heart!” notifying us that someone’s liked our post, our image, our self. Amusingly, it’s preceded by the girls singing the sound of a quickly-beating heart. It turns out both hearts are our lifeblood.
[10]

Will Adams: The popular consciousness’s fixation on millennial culture has endured for so long that it’s become easy to identify the quality of each thinkpiece: Does it treat social media users with disdain, or does it take the time to recognize the benefits they attain from it? In a better world, “Likey” would have been the urtext, at once acknowledging the enormous pressure to look a certain way — sucking it in, angling light so hits you just so, swiping through filters — and the rush of seeing the appreciation come through in short, warm buzzes. Each line offers a different reading, mimicking how quickly we sift through the emotions, never quite resolving them. And we get those mixed feelings elsewhere: a “Heart! Heart!” hook that’s both annoying and endearing, a breakbeat instrumental that’s both ecstatic and wistful, and the moment you receive that like, both time-stopping and boundless.
[7]

Micha Cavaseno: Contrary to popular belief, sincerity is never a pure answer. There is nothing less flattering to the human face than your own tears, gushing down your face, mixing with snot and drool over your whimpering pleas to make you look more like a slug than any person of desire (no offense meant to my invertebrate audience, as someone with far less of a spine). Nowadays, in the harsh kiln of radioactive beams from our webcams, phones, and any possible source of laser-like intense study, we’ve learned to fix rigid plasticine smiles and gussy ourselves up in the desperate hope for approval and kindness from even the most distant stranger. Try making it through the days when even the robocalls don’t hit you back. I don’t imagine anyone in Twice was spending their Hallow’s Eve like myself, hysterically laughing at my own reflection after slathering on gaudy amounts of makeup and facepaint in the hopes of the slightest sliver of approval (should I be wrong, please provide info in a corresponding email). But they are likewise burdened with the task of smuggling themselves into the day-to-day of their intended audiences. This group basically shattered me with Momo’s sobbing babble of a voice and our mutual insistence that hysteria “isn’t myself at all.” Now, in the same way, her voice echoes giggling pleas for attention, acknowledgement, the cheap reminder that yes, somebody up/over/out there might be fooled into thinking they like “me.” The blare of the flange-drenched VST horns and the percussions slip from the freestyle/Atlanta bass skips on the verses to the 4×4 bridge to the hesitant 130-BPM breakstep fills on the pre-chorus are not as triumphant as they are propulsive, hurriedly pushing oneself along further and further. For all the moments that shouldn’t succeed (the Migos flow breakdown and the weird gap before the final chorus threaten to busy up the record too much), it’s a perfect balance of charming leap and trembling flail forward, doing its best to never sound as starved a record as it is. That’s the genius of Twice at their peak form, that something so violently happy never betrays the insane loneliness and desperation at its core. We love you so much.
[10]

Class, I hope you’ve all studied your Bad Bunny and Prince Royce and J Balvin times tables…

[Video][Website]
[4.50]

Ryo Miyauchi: These pretty boys already know how to soften masculine pop rap very well, but why not? Let’s candy coat their shtick even more with pianos borrowed from Lil Yachty B-sides. The fluff doesn’t change the fact the outside only matters for them with their verses only a presentation of sensuality without actually being all that sensuous. Though, the shallowness is more humorous than anything from how on-brand it is. Considering his more sensitive persona, it’s only right J Balvin’s girl got on a Drake hoodie.
[5]

Alfred Soto: Latin American trap rap with as much imagination as a plastic cup with a smashed cigarette. The Prince is fine if unspectacular, but Bad Bunny’s unmovable delivery and groan-inducing come-ons are at the “What’s your sign?” level of wit.
[2]

Anjy Ou: I get that trap rap is all about drawing your words out, but Bad Bunny raps like he can’t quite get his tongue around the words, so he’s a split second behind the beat, and it slows the whole thing down. J Balvin and Prince Royce match the tempo better, but the instrumental is simplistic, and that electric organ line gets really old really fast. The song is like a Heineken beer — great name value but ultimately pedestrian.
[4]

Katie Gill: A sultry summer jam… released in November. I mean, it’s been 70 Fahrenheit a few times this week so I can’t really judge. And everyone involved nails that sexy summer sound, which perfectly fits the lyrics. It just feels a little middle of the road, a play by numbers summer jam that doesn’t really DO anything, especially with the backing. By the time that three minute mark hit, I was exceedingly desperate for the beat to change itself up, even just a little.
[5]

Micha Cavaseno: These are three melodically driven, rap-influenced vocalists all basically competing over an 808 for someone’s affection. In other words, it’s one part competitive singer seduction routine No. 5, part Latin American heartthrob cipher. How do I feel about this? Am I okay with this? Turns out very. The breeziness of “Sensulidad” and the relaxed atmosphere completely belies just how much effort each of these dudes is squeezing out of their every possible moment to one-up another and be the obvious star of the record. What a treat to be lavished with such effort and not feel like you’re being subjected as much as you are engaged.
[7]

Ashley John: All the sex appeal and all the fun got burned away in the trop-pop sun. 
[4]

Longstanding Jukebox fav hits a little below par this time…

[Video][Website]
[6.67]

Will Adams: Javiera Mena’s set a high bar, which is why this didn’t grab me until the instrumental bridge around 2:35, where a gust of wind whips up and her voice ricochets across the stereo field. Though less impactful than what she usually manages, “Dentro de Ti” is a fine entry in her rich catalog of ice dusted electropop.
[6]

Alfred Soto: A shimmering little thing comfortably in Javiera Mena’s wheelhouse, just making it thanks to a synthesized breakdown in the middle.
[7]

Iain Mew: The expected kinetic dancefloor emotion mix is present and correct, but somehow dulled. Maybe it’s just familiarity and the lack of any big dynamic moments, but listening feels lile there’s a layer of cotton wool between me and the full Javiera Mena effect. 
[6]

Ryo Miyauchi: The chiptune blips plus the mention of New Delhi and New York give Javiera’s rather pensive dance-pop the feel of a search for The One in a metropolis. The tenderness of it all makes her gaze deeply wholesome, and no longer meek nor overly showy with her desires as she was in her various records from the past.
[6]

Julian Baldsing: I’m chalking it down to the combination of that fantastic, intensity-building “rior-rior-rior” hook and those endless, otherworldly synths, but “Dentro de Ti” feels like a Bullet Bill ride down Rainbow Road — except with blissful serenity subbing in for anxiety-fueled rage.
[7]

Stephen Eisermann: People spend their whole lives in search of happiness, but too often we are met wit the question of how to define actual happiness. “Dentro de Ti” is this question in song form. The pulsing percussion, the electronic sounds, the detached vocal performance — it all amounts to that wonderfully striking feeling of “wait… is this what happy feels like?” Devastating and beautiful, haunting and groovy, all that’s left to do is keep dancing in the middle of the club hoping that you’re doing “happy” right.
[8]

A new twist on a classic…

[Video][Website]
[7.62]

Alfred Soto: The guitars jangle like classic Rosanne Cash or Martina McBride, and Cam gives a performance to match in a tune that is not a Husker Du cover — rather, it’s an answer to Dolly Parton’s “Jolene,” but with Cam asking for sisterly forgiveness after sleeping with Diane’s man.
[8]

Anthony Easton: The catchiest new wave hit was the southern styles of Rosanne Cash’s “Seven Year Ache,” and I am not even sure it is considered in the canon. Cam’s new single borrows heavily from that space, grafting it onto Dolly’s disco adventures in the early 1980s and interlacing it on top of heavily current vocal tricks. Add onto it a whole bunch of guitar theatrics that read Nashville, complicating a song that could have been too simple. That the song is perfectly written, a riff and extension of timeless cheating songs, with memories of Tammy and George, makes it both a perfect pop object and a perfect country heart breaker.
[10]

Alex Clifton: The backing here reminds me of Mumford & Sons’ chugging guitar lines and feels a bit too glossy here, but “Diane” is a hell of a song regardless. I can’t say I’ve ever heard a song like this — an apology for wronging the other party, and one that moreover makes you want to sing. It’s refreshing to find a song with such raw emotion (“I’d rather you hate me than not understand”) that remains upbeat. It’s a hard line to walk, but Cam does it well.
[8]

Ryo Miyauchi: Cam knows the unlikelihood of her honesty being all that convincing, yet she still owns up to a frustration and embarrassment earnest as her ornate country blues. Sweetly as she sings, who can blame this for falling upon deaf ears? This is an apology so rarely given in real life that its sincerity is hard to take in without some cynicism.
[6]

Will Adams: The obvious reference is “Jolene,” but I also see this as “Call Your Girlfriend” if Robyn just called her directly. Because of this, there’s the same problem of having a homewrecker protagonist: weighing out what’s sincere versus what’s assholey. A line like “you can blame me if it helps” reads cruel, sure, but the frantic energy of it all — Jeff Bhasker’s storming drums, beats spilling into other measures, Cam’s anxious delivery — renders it sympathetic. Ultimately, the real key is Cam’s decision to bypass the cheater and go straight to the source.
[7]

Ramzi Awn: What makes “Diane” more than just a gimmick is how much it sounds like Fleetwood Mac. The single’s lyrics shine, and in the end, Cam doesn’t leave you disappointed. 
[6]

Stephen Eisermann: Cam sounds amazing as the guitar leads the charge on an aggressive song, but what really gets to me are the lyrics. I sympathize with Cam here — I’m sure she *thinks* she’s doing the right thing by exposing Diane’s husband, but there are clearly selfish intentions. Cam even preemptively shames poor Diane for potentially staying with her loser husband when she has absolutely no right to! It’s all deliciously real and tragic and awful and I love this song.
[8]

Rebecca A. Gowns: This is the exact kind of take on a classic that makes me sit up straight, like seeing a dance trio do an interpretative pop and lock routine set to “Jolene” on primetime TV. Forget the ukulele covers — this is how to invoke the spirit of a song that could never be removed from its originator. Cam could have easily gone paint-by-numbers with the same structure and chords, but instead, we have something halfway between Dixie Chicks and Little Mix, a 2017 pop nugget that radiates warmth.
[8]

Punjabi star has done everything but appear on the Jukebox, so let’s rectify that…

[Video][Website]
[6.00]

Ashley John: Diljit Dosanjh is an Indian musician, actor, philanthropist, and just about every other title you could name, a star that can only exist in the echoing cavern that is Indian pop culture. “El Sueño” is his latest and long awaited single, and it’s… fine? The Latin overhaul of pop music knows no international borders! The Spanish accents are a miss, which is expected but still frustrating to hear from Tru-Skool. The music video, though, is a beautiful piece of melodrama that makes it almost all worth it. 
[5]

Jessica Doyle: I am delighted. Mostly by the guitar and how smoothly it backs up Diljit Dosanjh, but also by the gleeful anti-colonialist period-piece stateliness of the video. And those moustaches! Somewhere Kenneth Branagh is applauding and not bothering to hide his envy.
[8]

Will Adams: A case of a middling song that’s elevated by the choices made around it: for “El Sueno” it’s the appealing fusion supporting Diljit Dosanjh and the powerful video.
[5]

Jonathan Bradley: The concordance located by Dosanjh and producer Tru-Skool between Bhangra rhythms and Latin phrasing is as unexpected as it is obvious once realized. I would prefer, however, if their collaboration had as much as urgency as it does inspiration; “El Sueño” is so genial and frictionless it could usher an office commuter home, cued up after Del Amitri on a drivetime FM playlist.
[6]

Iain Mew: Such a wonderful, meandering instrumental that it’s a bit of a shame every time it gets pulled back into being an average song instead. 
[6]

Ian Mathers: Several great tastes that, um, taste reasonably fine together!
[6]

86 on low-scoring songs…

[Video][Website]
[7.29]

Josh Langhoff: In this prophetic rejoinder to Keith Urban’s galvanizing “Female,” Richard turns a cold shoulder to a man, citing more pressing concerns and the momentum of Machinedrum’s electronic beat, its syncopations continually goosed by sampled shouts, stray percussion, and rippling guitar arpeggios. The resulting song is twice as pretty and a billion times harder than whatever Urban was trying to do. VWOOM.
[8]

Crystal Leww: “Stopwatch” was penned by the crazily underrated Jesse Boykins III, and he worked with producer Machinedrum to give it an appropriate home in Dawn Richard. Richard has consistently been living about two years ahead of everyone else the past half decade or so, and “Stopwatch” is too much of a banger to ever get the kind of credit it deserves in the pop era of (saccharine, boring) tropical house. Machinedrum has gained a reputation for being a versatile producer, but I love him in the club the best. “Stopwatch” is a song to shake your hips to with the girl friends in a dark room — Richard even speaks directly to you in the bridge! — with gin and tonic in hand and not a single care for the cute boys dancing alongside you all. I can’t imagine anything more appropriate for a pre-cuffing season break-up
[9]

Stephen Eisermann: Dawn Richard has been churning out some of pop/R&B’s best songs for a little over two years now. Recently, she has delved into electronic music, and, thankfully, the trend of releasing quality music has followed. This song — a mixture of pop, R&B, and electronic music with tropical under currents — finds Dawn effectively brushing someone aside who isn’t bringing the same amount of oomph that she does to their relationship. She sounds indifferent and annoyed, but why wouldn’t she be? She’s over here changing the game and this dude is simply not worthy.
[8]

Jonathan Bradley: Machinedrum’s meditative house arrangement is fantastic: whirring and clicking about as Richard’s high tones trickle along the top. The two are a good match; she tends to soak herself into a track, while his beats are bare enough to contain her. A repetitive and more traditionally R&B hook softens the effect; I would rather like to waste a lot of time with that rhythm. 
[6]

Alfred Soto: Distortions that once sounded like the ne plus ultra of posh alienation now sound complacent, and Machinedrum’s trop house accents help not a whit.
[5]

Dorian Sinclair: A lot of disparate ingredients are present in “Stopwatch,” but, befitting the title, they’re held together by that steady pulse. Regardless of what else is going on, there’s always at least one instrument precisely unspooling the rhythm, stopping things from clattering to the floor in a disorganized heap. It’s a big part of why the song functions, but the measured approach does end up keeping me from being as pulled in as I am by much of Richard’s other work.
[7]

Julian Baldsing: Women, and especially women of colour, are so often pressured to rise above all the garbage being flung at them; to always remain patient and polite, else get disregarded as manic or unreasonable. It’s been doubly frustrating to witness in 2017, which has essentially been an overzealous factory line of god-awful men being shot at us every fraction of a second — most packaged with mics and podiums to help them talk over anyone who has a contrary opinion. And that’s why Dawn’s deliberately cruel words ring like the sweetest of sounds in these ears, because it takes us — at least for three and a half minutes — to a future in which a curt “NO” actually marks the end of a discussion.
[8]