No relation to Eric…

[Video]
[4.50]

Alfred Soto: These days, “Humble and Kind” notwithstanding, I believe Tim McGraw when Faith Hill shares a mike; otherwise he’s apt to record soggy plaints like “Neon Church,” replete with honky tonk angels with their wings on fire drinkin’ Johnnie Walker. The organ and guitars are well-recorded, though, but they sure ain’t honky tonk.
[4]

Thomas Inskeep: The country haters will cite opening line “I need Jesus or I need whiskey” as a reason to dislike this, but that’s short-sighted; the premise of the bar as church is a country music tradition, and McGraw builds upon it with “Neon Church.” His vocal is one of his best in some time — he’s pushing the upper edge of his voice, and it sounds great. The guitars here lick the edges of the song, all fire-like, and this sounds awfully anthemic. And it’s country as hell.
[8]

Katie Gill: You could make a Time Life Treasury collection of country songs that use religious symbolism in a secular context: baptize me with something romantic, insert a sexy angel metaphor here, yeah I guess this is my church, etc. It feels like McGraw heard a song like “My Church,” saw how successful it was, and went, “What if I write something like that but about being drunk and being sad?” We’ve heard this song a billion times before. And McGraw KNOWS we’ve heard this song a billion times before, because he is barely putting any effort into these vocals. This song wouldn’t even make the first two volumes of that Time Life Treasury.
[3]

Joshua Minsoo Kim: What is it with country artists who compare drinking and other vices to spirituality and think this basic analogy is interesting in and of itself? Are the genre’s Southern roots meant to make this feel enormously profound? There is interesting stuff happening here: the subtle talk-singing in the first verse, the sparse synth arpeggio in the second verse, the way Tim McGraw says “honky-tonk.” The guitar solo and processional organ chords are also admittedly dreamy–familiar tropes made refreshing when placed inside a hazy, crowded mix. Sigh. Fine, I’ll throw a few bucks in the collection plate, er, tip jar.
[6]

Katherine St Asaph: So are there brawls? Are buybacks indulgences? Is someone checking IDs at the church door (wouldn’t shock me tbh)? Did someone knock a candle over and light the girls’ arms on fire? The central conceit is stretched as far as Tim’s overprocessed voice.
[2]

Taylor Alatorre: “Neon” is a good metonym for drinking because, when juxtaposed against “church,” it’s suggestive of a whole range of worldly vices: gambling, prostitution, computer screens, modernity in general. Cognitive dissonance can be a jumping-off point for songwriters in a bind, even if the particular conflict between Jesus and whiskey is a country subgenre unto itself. Where “Neon Church” errs is in making the jumping-off point the entire point. There’s a failed relationship somewhere in the mix, but it’s forgotten after the first few lines, supplanted by clunky literalisms like “unholy water” and generic lines about partying. The generous reading is that this is meant to replicate the inebriated mindset, an idea supported by the bleary maximalist production, power ballad pacing, and background vocals that sound like Kings of Leon karaoke. The ungenerous reading is that it’s all sentimentalism and not much sentiment. This had the potential to be more than a targeted Facebook ad for people who list “drinking with the boys” as one of their interests.
[5]

Julian Axelrod: From the title down to the searing 3 a.m. guitar solo, this sounds like Bruce Springsteen tried to write an M83 song, but lacks either of those artists’ ambition. This song is as comfortable and unassuming as the bar where it takes place.
[5]

Ramzi Awn: His voice sounds great, but Tim may as well have painted a picture of a pickup truck with a Perez Hilton sad face on it in neon, because that’s about all “Neon Church” conjures up.
[3]

CORRECTION: A previous subhead implied that we have covered “triple digits’ worth of Drake singles.” We have actually covered 60 here, and this is #61. We regret the error, among other things.

[Video]
[6.43]

Crystal Leww: Bad Bunny’s been referred to as the Drake of the Latin America urban scene, and while it’s a little unfair to center American pop culture, the comparison makes a lot of sense. It was only a matter of time before the two collaborated. Luckily, “Mia” is a proper banger, a song that women can party to rather than the dude club music that seemed to be such a huge part of Scorpion. This is the best version of both of these guys! Bonus points for a line like “yo soy tu Romeo pero no soy un santo” — that boy Bad Bunny is trouble. 
[9]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: When Drake does a feature, it’s typically more of a corporate merger, a stripping of an artist’s original style for parts that leaves Drake revitalized and the other party slightly empty. On “Mia,” Drake takes a more restrained approach– maybe the Spanish requirement threw him, or maybe Bad Bunny is simply big enough to fight him off– and it benefits everyone. On pre-chorus/hook duty, he plays the loverman part well enough to make Bad Bunny’s slightly more hard-edged approach feel more solid, and then he mostly gets the hell out of the way. It’s a Drake feature that feels like a feature for once.
[6]

Julian Axelrod: Having Drake on your song is a deal with the [6] devil: He’ll probably give you your biggest hit, but he always sucks up all the air in the room. So it’s refreshing to hear Drake take a backseat to Bad Bunny, who is big enough that he doesn’t need to kowtow for a cosign. The result is a sleek, vibrant soon-to-be-hit that never stops moving and never succumbs to cliché. Bunny nearly outshines Aubrey with his inimitable rasp, even if some of his guest’s romantic possessiveness rubs off.
[7]

John Seroff: Two of my least favorite exemplars of the bad-little-boy school of toxic masculinity team up and… it’s not that bad? Not not generic, but my expectations were already so low that it feels like a win.
[6]

Joshua Minsoo Kim: The very best thing about “Mia” is that it exists. The second best thing about “Mia” is that it’s successful. Yes, Drake may just be gunning for more #1s, but it’s impossible to deny that he pairs nicely with Bad Bunny. So if it makes some sort of sense, I’d say it’s worth trying out. I dream of a day when pop stars are more eager to sing in languages that aren’t their own. Every language has its own individualized means of expression, and singers have a lot to gain from breaking down these barriers. After all, it’s music that’s the greatest lingua franca.
[6]

Alfred Soto: Their voices blurring into a horny drone mitigated by the trop house beat, Bad Bunny and Drake don’t top each other with obnoxiousness. The production’s insistent contemporaneity helps: it’s the equivalent of a Ashanti track in 2005 or anonymous Italo disco in early 1985.
[6]

Taylor Alatorre: Other than the ingratiating chirp-voice motif and admittedly clever pun on Romeo Santos (who gave us Drizzy en Español first), there’s nothing in here that makes me think anything other than “yep, this is the Bad Bunny single featuring Drake.” And in that most mercenary of ways, it delivers. A valid answer to the future question “what did 2018 sound like?”.
[5]

If only they leaned into the comparisons you’re about to read and called it “Regular Degular Schmegular”…

[Video]
[3.33]John Seroff: Welcome to 2018, the year that “Kidz Bop Migos” became an aesthetic that nabs 11 million views in three weeks.
[3]

Joshua Minsoo Kim: So many things about the English version of “Regular” make it feel particularly unbearable in 2018. BTS, Blackpink, and Super Junior all participated in Western crossovers this year, and none of them found it necessary to forgo Korean. Seeing NCT 127 go the “(English Version)” route feels dated and unnecessary in comparison — and if you have a never-ending supply of corny rap clichés, it might be a good idea to mask unconvincing deliveries with your native tongue. Even worse, “Regular” is generic from a Western pop, K-pop, and Korean rap angle. It’s dime-a-dozen post-Migos pop rap that cautiously dips its toes into the Latin wave. The post-Desiigner “brrRRRAAAHH” adlibs are pathetic, and the post-“Mask Off” flute-like melody is equally diluted. It only sounds like K-pop because of its dramatically sung chorus and shoehorned harmonies, all of which grant it an antiseptic sheen that makes the braggadocio feel more market-tested, boardroom-approved. And compared to the non-idol rap songs filling up Melon’s charts, “Regular” is joyless and indistinct, far from understanding what rapping should entail beyond its functional role in a topline.
[0]

Alfred Soto: This track could use Cardi B and J Balvin.
[4]

Camille Nibungco: Right off the bat, the flow and flurry of cheesy couplets are suspiciously similar to Migos. Complemented by a bridge I could easily envision Cardi B rapping perfectly, enough adlibs to make Lil Jon worried for his career, and the overall theme of excess materialism, it could easily pass as a K-pop cover of a leaked Culture III track.
[4]

Anna Suiter: NCT 127 has been on a wild ride with this year’s singles, from a love song, to a convoluted metaphor that could also be a love song, to this. “Regular” is a love letter, kind of, but only to money and showing off. For all of their posturing, the members still seem a little unsure of themselves in this element, as if they are trying to prove themselves a little too much, as if this is a little too urgent. At only two years in, though, they definitely have time to do something a bit better.
[5]

Jessica Doyle: As with the last money-obsessed, audibly-processed single SM assigned to one of its younger guy groups, the English version of “Regular” is such a mess it gets you thinking. Namely about the group singing (in unison) I just made a million and I’m still not satisfied: who is the “I” here? Especially in translation, K-pop companies’ financial customs are so opaque as to consist almost entirely of unverifiable rumor, and what facts do come out only prompt more eyebrow-raising (such as SM’s CEO’s base salary being equivalent to about US$130,000 in 2014). SM’s organization might not be as convoluted as, say, Samsung’s, but it’s built up a respectable array of convoluted public deals and scattered subsidiaries. For any given million actually made by “Regular,” some significant portion of it will likely be not publicly flaunted but quickly made, by design or simple bureaucratic momentum, untraceable. Meanwhile the NCT members get to strike all the poses of greedy individualism without actually having the freedom to be greedy or individualist. It’s a boring song and a sham, but I’ll put two points back for the queso / kkaeisseo pun.
[2]

Ryo Miyauchi: This is the same group who recited “if you happy and you know it, clap your hands,” so I don’t look for inventive wordplay or convincing posturing from this branch of NCT. In fact, while it makes the song a chore to sit through, the relentless run of overused “icy” and “cheese” cliches is the exact way I expect this group to attempt to establish a sense of cool. I can only be charmed by their serious commitment.
[5]

Will Adams: I’ll always be here for a George Kranz sample, even if it’s buried in a clamorous post-chorus. But apart from that, this is just J. Lo’s “Dinero” with neither the playfulness nor Cardi B to enliven the proceedings.
[4]

Iain Mew: The big-spending message could do with a track with matching diamonds and lux to at least make it a Statement, given how fantastically hard they’re all trying. As it is, it’s all a bit too regular, and it would only work if it there was any chance of believing that the banality of excess was the point.
[3]

The comfort that a feature credit affords…

[Video]
[5.17]

Thomas Inskeep: Tori Kelly until now: mostly a pop singer, strong voice, NARAS dream (think Joss Stone, only American and not as annoying), mediocre-at-best-material. Enter gospel king Kirk Franklin. Tori Kelly now: second full-length is gospel, voice sounds more confident, gotta think she’s still a NARAS dream, and the material’s improved drastically. Credit Franklin a lot, as he co-wrote and co-produced every one of the eight songs on Hiding Place, Kelly’s sophomore effort. Not only does it sound like he coaxed more nimble performances out of her, but much like Amy Grant, she clearly believes this gospel material more. If you’re looking for inspiration — the essence of gospel music — then you’re gonna find it here. “Never Alone” is seemingly made for TV performances (just think of the moment when the backdrop parts and the choir’s revealed, let alone Franklin popping out for his four bars), and that’s not a bad thing in this case (cf. Dolly Parton’s 1990 CMA performance of “He’s Alive” — and no, I’m not saying this matches that). Is this great? Not quite. (I wish the choir came in at least one chorus earlier.) Do I love it? Yeah, pretty much.
[7]

Alfred Soto: With the help of Kirk Franklin, Tori Kelly sells her conviction, not her gospel chops. 
[6]

John Seroff: Sounds more like an audition (for Saint Peter’s coloratura choir maybe?) than a single.
[4]

Stephen Eisermann: Nobody should be desperate enough for a hit that they resort to Christian power pop, but Tori Kelly did just that. Kirk is serviceable at best, but there is nothing more depressing than knowing that Tori lowered herself to this just to make what I’m sure was a quick buck. Boring Christian pop ain’t worth it, boo.
[3]

Alex Clifton: I don’t know how to approach songs of faith these days. The message of this song is that you’re “never alone,” presumably through God, but I have no idea how to accept this message with the daily barrage of bad news. It’s not even that I feel alone. It’s that so much bad keeps happening that I find the concept of a god watching over the world and looking out for people difficult to swallow. I think a good faith-based song makes you feel overjoyed to be alive, where everyone’s clearly having a fun time singing along; in those moments, I understand faith. And I think Kelly believes her message here. She’s got a choir singing along, which adds a sense of needed community. But I can’t buy it, not right now.
[4]

Ian Mathers: I’m having particularly severe problems with theodicy these days, but I also think one of the biggest mistakes nonbelievers (or just believers in something different) can make is to think that the faithful haven’t, y’know… considered that issue. Which basically boils down to me either reading the joy here as naive and empty or aware and empowering and, fuck, today I’ll take the latter.
[7]

Who’s up for a little game of Indie Rock Bingo?

[Video]
[5.00]

Thomas Inskeep: I’ve never really taken Twenty One Pilots as a rock band, exactly — and please, please, listen to this week’s NYT Popcast about what exactly “rock” means in 2018 — and I’ve never really cared for them, either. They’re so whiny, so cranky, so keening, especially vocally. (Is this what it means to be emo in our present day?) But I actually do like the unexpected layers of texture and volume that keep piling on to “My Blood” as it progresses (especially once reaching the 3:00 mark). And I’m for the high/low harmonies, too. I could see this becoming the first song of theirs I take a liking to, though it’ll take some time to grow on me. But it could happen. Maybe.
[5]

Iain Mew: The first time I heard them on “Fairly Local” I admired its “gothic, hollowed out crawl.” They’ve taken a rather convoluted route to get back round to that, but here at last is the same feeling, now with added electro sparkle glistening somewhere between promise and menace.
[8]

Taylor Alatorre: Imagine MySpace-era MGMT covering a random song off of Emotional Rescue. Now take what you imagined and make it 50% more emo and 60% less interesting. Now imagine you’re the talking dog in the sad horse cartoon show and it’s time to deliver the most on-point joke of the fifth season.
[3]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: For all of their faults, Twenty One Pilots have always been deeply original in their corniness. “My Blood” changes that up, instead opting for a 2014-Alt Nation aesthetic that serves them surprisingly well — even the faux-rap bit goes down easy here. But “My Blood” runs completely unremarkably, squandering the potential of the change of aesthetic.
[5]

Alfred Soto: Writing about Vampire Weekend a couple days ago, I read friends comment on the similarities in the manipulation of synth textures, the conscious use of gauche white hip-hop tropes, the preference for merely floating. As attractive as this stew may taste, Twenty One Pilots’ arena rock instincts reduce these disparate elements to mere noise for Section 151 Row 79.  
[3]

Tim de Reuse: Sounds less like a song by Twenty One Pilots and more like Justice remixing a song by Twenty One Pilots, and that’s mostly a good thing! If anything, the parts that lean towards a traditional pop structure make it weaker, and it would’ve been more fun as an exercise in french house — though it wouldn’t hurt to knock the compression from “drum ‘n’ bass production video tutorial” down to “early-aughts Daft Punk.”
[7]

Anna Suiter: Twenty One Pilots still seem to be guilty of making slight variations of the same song over and over. They’ve certainly found their niche, though, even if it’s a dull one.
[3]

Joshua Minsoo Kim: Ok but the second half of this is better than most Tame Impala songs.
[6]

Well we wish you’d done a different music video, but we can’t always get what we want, now can we?

[Video]
[4.75]

Juana Giaimo: “I Wish You Were Here” puts together many things that made a hit single in the latest years: a Justin Timberlake-like falsetto, deep voices acting as a beat just as in Mark Ronson and Bruno Mars’ “Uptown Funk”, plus a Pharrell kind of production in the chorus. All that it lacks is some personality. 
[5]

Tobi Tella: This is a bad Charlie Puth song given to someone with even less charisma. His falsetto sounds like it’s just as painful for him as it is for me. Bonus mention to the video because what the fuck.
[2]

Scott Mildenhall: Such an egregious video suggests that the people overseeing this do not know what they’re doing (never should the myth of social-media-as-bleeding-edge become reality), but HRVY’s new-found access to higher tier collaborators like Mojam sounds like it’s paying off, even if the budget doesn’t yet stretch to hiring them for a full song. That’s a strength though: “I Wish You Were Here” twinkles and skips and ticks and burrows. It says what it has to say inventively, concisely and directly, understatedly placing it a point of distinction. There’s a good chance that this will be just another song to fail to bring him to a wider audience, but if nothing else it almost justifies the sales of more branded bric-à-brac.
[8]

John Seroff: Brief, bouncy, benign bubblegum viciously voided via video; believe it or don’t, this atrocity is visually as bad or worse than anything Lil’ Dicky has inflicted upon the world. Bump that score by two (and maybe even three on a day with nice weather) if you’re listening blind.
[5]

Alfred Soto: The chorus is moronic-catchy, and I like how the singer makes taking his T-shirt off as unassuming as any hunk who wants to be an object of desire. Charlie Puth does this stuff better, though, and he has cool chord changes!
[4]

Jibril Yassin: This song feels incredibly short for its two-minute runtime; the fact HRVY chooses to spend its entirety doing a really bad falsetto does it no favours. It’s an incomplete approximation of late-aughts pop-rock with one missing ingredient: where’s the singer in all this? 
[4]

Taylor Alatorre: The era of the two-minute pop single came and went based on the physical limitations of music distribution. Now that such limitations have been obliterated and replaced with 24/7 choice overload, it might be due for a renaissance. “I Wish You Were Here” gives a Gen Z facelift to the get-in-get-out mentality and wry geniality of British Invasion also-rans like Herman’s Hermits and Gerry and the Pacemakers, albeit with a lyric about kitchen counter intimacy that definitely would have gotten HRVY blacklisted in 1963. Also unlike his forebears, he packs his self-imposed two minutes with the entire brainstorming sheet: bass boosted doo-wop, vocodered falsetto, pinprick guitars, the TR-808 cowbell, a ticking clock, and shameless Cheap Trick theft. Somehow this doesn’t add up to an egregious violation of good taste, as it all paints a convincing portrait of sweaty-palmed eagerness in a way that maybe wasn’t intended. Most intriguing is how closely HRVY adheres to the lyrical conventions of pop femininity: “When I say that I’m cool about it / I’m really not cool about it” is basically every Carly Rae Jepsen song. Inverted gender norms may not be the first thing you hear when you push play on this (avoid the video at all costs), but why not give it another go — it only takes two minutes.
[8]

Vikram Joseph: I mean, sure, just writing “I wish you weren’t” would be brief, lazy and glib, but then this song is all of those things so I feel okay with that.
[2]

Neither “Somebody Else” nor “Somewhere Else,” but we’ll take it…

[Video][Website]
[6.38]

Katherine St Asaph: I just wanna go back to ’99, the year of the Jawbreaker and Cruel Intentions soundtracks, when there were a hundred songs like this per label.
[7]

Edward Okulicz: Hole if they’d been fronted by Juliana Hatfield? Sure, why not, but I won’t overlook the blurry nothing of the chorus next time.
[6]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: The vagueness of the chorus here would be a sticking point if not for the specificity of the verses, all pointed and poetic questioning and parallel structures. In context, that monster of a hook then reads not as hack platitudes but the fullest capturing of the rush of instant infatuation. And over a symphony of perfectly-toned guitars and driving drums, Jess Abbott sells that infatuation expertly, letting the vulnerability drop into her voice on the pre-chorus in order to release all of her emotions on the hook.
[7]

Tim de Reuse: A backdrop of energetic indie rock that, while competent, isn’t going to turn any heads by itself; there’s as many good parts to the instrumentation (the Interpol-esque lead guitar) as there are not-so-good parts (yeesh, could those “woo-oo-oo”s sound any more bored?). But what ties it together is Jess Abbott’s voice; it’s forceful and sharp, with no vibrato or ornamentation, cutting through the mix and bringing out the frustrated undertones of the lyrics. It takes effort to make a line like “I tried feeling nothing/It felt just like nothing” sound convincing.
[7]

Julian Axelrod: When you’ve heard enough indie guitar jams, it takes a lot to make another one stand out. Tancred has a lot of tricks up their sleeve: That fake-out ending is glorious, and “I tried feeling nothing/And it felt just like nothing” is one of the year’s best lines. But I’m left grasping at an array of reference points (what if Metric had… louder drums???) without a clear sense of what sets Tancred apart from the pack.
[6]

Vikram Joseph: Queer, female indie-rock with artistic links to Julien Baker, Kississippi and Foxing — I couldn’t have wanted to like this more. But “Something Else” comes off as a hollow Hole pastiche, with a chorus that’s so close to “Celebrity Skin” it’s actually uncomfortable. This lacks the distinctive mood of Snail Mail, the poignant specificity of Waxahatachee or the sheer propulsion of Cayetana. Maybe it’s unfair to compare Tancred to such strong contemporaries, but this offers so little of its own character that it feels unavoidable.
[4]

John Seroff: Solidly convincing girl-group grunge with admirably clean and ever-so-slightly barbed lead vocals, “Something Else” has a flavor that’s been out of fashion for so long that I had forgotten I actually quite enjoy it when it’s done well.
[8]

Will Adams: A handful of ingredients I undeniably enjoy in isolation — goth-leaning moodiness in the vein of Pvris; guitars intentionally detuned to the point of disorientation; girl group woo-hoo-hoo’s; the “Celebrity Skin” riff — that, when tossed together, add up to a sum less than the parts.
[6]

Meek just heard how we scored his song…

[Video]
[4.00]

Crystal Leww: Do y’all remember “All Eyes on You“? I guess “Dangerous” is the sequel, except that Jeremih has been swapped in for Chris Brown and PNB Rock is playing a kind of a Future-like role. “All Eyes on You” played for months on Dallas rap radio, and I never got past how much of a plod it was. “Dangerous” has a similar effect on first listen, but it’s oddly sweet and light. PNB Rock sings about how his girl deserves a Birkin! I’m sold. It’s too cold to roll down the windows now, but you bet your ass that this is still that vibe.
[6]

Tim de Reuse: Here and there, it’s convincingly romantic: floaty and light, with sonic subtleties on the outskirts of the mix and Jeremih’s enunciation stretching out the lyrics across delicious microtimings. Outside of those isolated moments, though, Meek Mill’s attempts at charming levity directly contradict every aspect that actually comes across as sincere.
[4]

Julian Axelrod: Meek is clearly out of his comfort zone, so he deploys the same strategy most rappers use in their quest for R&B radio crossover success: hire one or two singers too many and parcel out verses among them. Jeremih can knock out this kind of silky hook in his sleep, while PNB Rock sounds like he actually did record this in his sleep. It’s a shame they eat up so much of the track, because Meek acquits himself fairly well in a softer context. It’s kind of sweet how he conveys intimacy by turning down his yell two decibels, and that angel dust line hits the perfect balance between dumb and genius. This song feels like vanilla sex. It goes through the motions, getting the job done without much passion from anyone involved.
[6]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: The beat is too energetic for PNB Rock, too sedate for Meek, and a perfect fit for Jeremih, so of course he gets the smallest portion of a song already too light-weight to accommodate this number of performers.
[4]

John Seroff: “Dangerous” sounds like a leftover beat from Hitmaka’s superior (and just released) MihTy album, an assessment Ty Dolla appears to have basically confirmed via Zane Lowe earlier this year. Proof that it’s a thin line between a quiet storm and no storm at all. 
[4]

Thomas Inskeep: Oh boy. After the high of his post-prison “Stay Woke,” Meek Mill quickly falls back to earth on a would-be sex jam which is neither sexy nor a jam. “I know those bitches hatin’ on you we gon’ kill them,” really? Jeremih and PNB Rock, meanwhile, do nothing that couldn’t be done better by someone else. Trash with a capital “T.”
[0]

I wish it were Sunday…

[Video]
[5.33]

Iain Mew: A UK #1 by a British rapper being this focused on the rapping is maybe unprecedented — “Pass Out” is the closest I can think of and that had Labrinth’s uncredited chorus. “Funky Friday”‘s chart prospects got helped along by much the same effects of switches to streaming as can be seen nearly everywhere, but Dave and Fredo make enough out of its stark minimalism for it to acquire its own anthemic weight too. I love the way that the density of wordplay accelerates while nothing else does, and I can’t stop thinking about the HMV/HMP rhyme and the way that His Master’s Voice and Her Majesty’s Prison line up even better in full than abbreviated.
[7]

Crystal Leww: “Funky Friday” sets out to prove that Real Rap Music still can have a place in popular hip-hop music, with Dave and Fredo trading verses and a chorus that barely even qualifies as such. And yet, it’s an upgrade in every way from the Dave that we heard in 2016 — production that sounds spooky enough to match the tone of the song with its thwapper of a bass and Dave sounds comfortable and confident. I can’t believe that Dave is the same artist that we reviewed for Sound Of! This Dave has something to say and the right stuff to back it up. 
[6]

Will Adams: There’s definite charm here, from the chirpy synth melody evoking Flo Rida to the attempt to coin a phrase as goofy as “funky Friday.” But the rest of the song has hit the snooze button; neither Dave nor Fredo nor the beat really step up to offer something memorable.
[5]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: A purely formalist exercise, from the generically menacing beat onwards. Every line works, but none of them move me in any way.
[5]

Thomas Inskeep: Dave’s a passable rapper; Fredo’s a bit better. But the track is almost nonexistent — as the saying goes, there’s no there there. It wasn’t for this that Dizzee Rascal broke down barriers for British rappers.
[3]

Andy Hutchins: A synth-and-drum-and-bass instrumental this elemental usually elicits (from mediocre rappers, anyway) approaches like those taken by Dave and Fredo: Dave stays mostly in pocket, but chops several bars early, and amuses himself with a spelling-heavy verse; Fredo’s just droning right along with the beat. The pair’s chemistry is virtually nonexistent, but that’s fine: Dave does enough to carry, and it’s his bars you can envision Drake mining for slang or placing on Top Boy.
[6]

Sorry, Sorry, but we’re covering another Super Junior single. It’s a Miracle! Give them One More Chance?

[Video]
[6.14]

Edward Okulicz: Mostly indistinct, but “One More Time” is low-key and enjoyable. Super Junior are certainly committed to this Latin pop phase, and it’s got a fun call-and-response chorus. Mostly I’m imagining how cool it’ll be when a big mainstream Latin group makes a huge stylistic diversion into k-pop, because my attention does wander during the verses.
[6]

Leonel Manzanares de la Rosa: Super Junior, already one of the most popular K-Pop groups in the Latin market, tried to make lightning strike twice after April’s amazing “Lo Siento”, but what made that one such a banger was the seamless incorporation of the tropical trends, the traditional Latin pop sound, and the classic SuJu harmonies; “One More Time” is merely an implementation of the Ryeowook-led vocals on top of the Reik template, at least the most recent version of it. It doesn’t do much for the Koreans, but it somehow brought us the best Reik-related single in half a decade. 
[6]

Thomas Inskeep: Songs like this are the sound of what pop is about to sound like all over: truly global, cross-cultural, trans-national, mixing languages as easily as musical styles. This slinky little number features K-popsters Super Junior singing all sexy against a light reggaetòn shuffle, while Mexican trio Reik provide accompaniment and choral assist. I wanna climb in between silk sheets with this song.
[7]

Will Adams: The concept — making global pop that feels organic and not cynical trend-jacking — is admirable, though hopefully subsequent iterations will take a more imaginative approach than “verses one language chorus a different language” and “reggaeton but with slightly more K-pop bloops.”
[5]

Alex Clifton: Where can I buy a whole album of this? And where’s the mashup with “Despacito” that this song begs for?
[7]

Cassy Gress: Super Junior, the kings of Hallyu, have been popular in South America since at least 2011; they have included South America in their tours since 2013, they released “Mamacita” (which is at least aesthetically Latin-influenced) in 2014, and this year “Lo Siento” got them up to #13 on the Billboard US Latin Digital Song Sales chart. With that kind of success, why not double down with a mini-album entirely themed around Latin sounds, with a Luis Miguel cover to boot? I mean, yes, it does feel like a cash-in, but it’s a much nicer, grooveable song to listen to, and definitely more earwormy with the singalong “OTRA VEZ!“, than some of their other recent singles have been.
[7]

Iain Mew: Mostly nondescript in an all too familiar way, but the title as exclamation works brilliantly, and could go into anywhere such a thing was needed. “Looking like a pair of clowns, clowns, clowns (otra vez!)” “She even caught me on camera (otra vez!)” “I get up when I want, except on Wednesdays when I get rudely awakened by the dustman (otra vez!)”
[5]