When I was / a young Bey…

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[7.00]

Tobi Tella: It’s messy and filled with overlapping ideas, but from such a calculated artist, it feels so refreshing. Hearing Beyonce word vomit all her feelings and pride for her heritage is infinitely more interesting than a focus grouped, corporate attempt at Empowerment™.
[7]

Olivia Rafferty: Once you dive past the marching band swells and the trap hits reminiscent of her Coachella performance, you can hear that “Black Parade” is lyrically supercharged with powerful imagery. It’s a march, yes, but it takes the Black Lives Matter protest march and reframes it as a journey back to a Black history which has been forgotten, discarded and colonised by white society. Through this process of reclamation, the capitalist American Dream (which is the American Nightmare for so many) is being dismantled: picket fences are snatched up and repurposed into protest signs. Beyoncé adds more by charging the song with emblems of African heritage like she “charge[s her] crystals in the full moon,” from the baobab tree to Yoruban waist beads. Going deeper into themes of spirituality, Beyoncé calls upon the Yoruban Goddesses Yemaya and Oshun as patrons of this march. The mention of these water deities creates a sense of re-baptism as the “drip” of motherland/melanin rains down on her and her growing march. However, although ancestry and tradition is a huge part of this song, Beyonce is aware that she cannot march back, back, back to a pre-colonized Africa. But as the Black Parade progresses it becomes clear that she is using that imagined place as a well from which to draw up a new future of peace, reparations and power.
[7]

Hannah Jocelyn: As a statement released when the purpose of celebrity (billionaire celebrities in particular) is under discussion, after Beyonce has spent four years cashing in her goodwill on underwhelming side projects… it’s complicated, and these tweets and essays dissect the place of someone like Beyoncé in an era increasingly moving past even her most radical statements. As a song, it’s probably her best post-Lemonade.  Derek Dixie’s production is like a less cluttered “Formation,” including flutes and a horn section but leaving space for the person actually leading this parade. I wish Bey was mixed a little bit higher, because a lot of these moments are as memorable as “surfbort” ever was. The first thing that strikes me is Beyoncé’s humor, like the image of her catwalking six feet apart from other models in a Hazmat suit or “Crack a big smile ding.” Elsewhere, “Let the ghosts chit-chat” is brilliant imagery, and the enunciation of “Mansa Musa” alone is more memorable than anything on Everything is Love. “Black Parade” has all the makings of another quotable, analysis-ready hit on the level of “Formation.” Yet as I write this, the song is sitting in the lower part of the top 40 — maybe the goodwill ran out. Maybe the prospect of succeeding in a capitalist society, essentially her MO from the last decade, feels more impossible than ever. For what it’s worth, there’s a lot she’s doing within said capitalist society: a massive star paying tribute to modern activists or promoting Black-owned businesses still feels novel to me even as it feeds into a more intricate conversation about Black capitalism I’m not equipped to have. For now, however long celebrity remains a thing, it feels like we could do worse.
[7]

Thomas Inskeep: She sings, she raps, and the lyrics are interesting, but the trap beat underpinning it all does nothing.
[5]

Nortey Dowuona: Beyoncé sits back on a chair made of bouncing bass and looks upon her domain, a horn procession forming around her toes, wondering how she could not protect her domain. Solange sits down next to her, with Standing on the Corner on her left shoulder, with Gio Escobar playing the piccolo. They huddle whispering for a few seconds, before Bey gets up and smashes down the police forces of Louisville, especially the men who killed Breonna. Satisfied for a bit, she sits down next to Big Floyd and they start making a star message for his daughter.
[8]

Alfred Soto: Whatever its content, the vocal performance is a tour de force: insouciant, teasing, fervid. Iconicity has not been hell on her music. I can imagine what an isolated vocal track sounds like.
[8]

Katherine St Asaph: “End of Time” revised with new swagger, unsparing specificity, and better lines (“make a picket sign of your picket fence” is so neatly packaged I would have sworn it’d already been gentrified-blandified, but no, there’s just this). More presence, too. Having done her hitmaker dues, she’s now free to be less poppy and more pointed; having canonized herself as a power-diva vocalist with 4 (and “Halo,” Dreamgirls, etc.) she’s free to be looser, more slyly charismatic, more constantly morphing. (It’s no longer surprising that she raps; now the surprise is just how many ways.) “Black Parade,” like more Beyoncé singles than you’d think, is a product of the same industry infrastructure as her labelmates — songwriters include Kim Krysiuk, recipient of one of Ariana Grande’s 7 rings, and NOVA Wav (“Loveeeeeee Song,” most of the Teyana Taylor album, uhhhh Lukas Graham, and Beyoncé’s Lion King songs, perhaps why they’re back for another Disney track). But seldom are such assemblies given to a vocalist so transformative. Put her anydamnwhere; she’ll make it hers.
[7]

In which we all wish we could hit the club…

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[6.86]

Katherine St Asaph: A ROT-13 version of ’90s dance; two artists who are just present enough, producing evocative-enough filler for a club atmosphere. Remember atmosphere?
[7]

Wayne Weizhen Zhang: What perfect filler for waiting in line for the bathroom at the club!
[6]

Tobi Tella: Campy and surprisingly witty, the way this toes the line into sheer ridiculousness but never fully crosses over is amusing enough for me to ignore that its music for guys who smoke cigs right outside the off-license.
[7]

Oliver Maier: AJ Tracey and MoStack have been a winning combination before, and they benefit even more here from the sprinkles of silliness. I wish “Dinner Guest” felt a tad less paint-by-numbers, but the punchlines are grin-inducing enough to forgive the weaker rhymes, and the Nightcrawlers sample flip is ingenious.
[7]

Thomas Inskeep: Smart of these British rappers to ride a UK classic as iconic as Nightcrawlers’ ’95 smash “Push the Feeling On,” as they themselves are very, very, not-likely-to-ever-cross-over-in-the-US British. They’re also solid rappers with voices I really enjoy — and this is their second great collab, after appearing on Steel Banglez’ “Fashion Week” last year. Both of ’em know how to ride on the rhythm.
[7]

Nortey Dowuona: MoStack leaps over the circling bass drums and synth Beyblades without a care, while AJ tries to get in close and gets cut on his fingers, feet and neck.
[8]

Scott Mildenhall: An agreeably bland accompaniment to a timeless sample: if your parents loved the Nightcrawlers, then they sure might love the Jorja Smith Crawlers. “Ladbroke Grove” showed AJ Tracey’s knack for similarly broad-brush appeal in bloom, but here in more laidback mode, he’s that bit less engaging.
[6]

• Leah Isobel contributed a piece of music to the Distant Bodies digital art project, a collection of works from almost 80 artists who responded to the themes of “intimacy in isolation” and “reimagining the world after economic collapse.” Proceeds go to the LGBT Center in New York.
• Jackie Powell, for new women’s basketball outlet The Next, spoke to New York Liberty player Amanda Zahui B. about the trajectory of her career, how she’s a “superstar in the making,” and her responsibility as a team leader on and off the court.
• Joshua Minsoo Kim, for Tone Glow, interviewed DeForrest Brown, Jr. about techno, George Floyd, racism, and his upcoming book, and also interviewed Micaela Tobin about Philippine mythology, decolonization, opera, and voice healing workshops.

It’s the woman who did that nice song you heard on Radio 2!

[Video][Website]
[4.83]

Wayne Weizhen Zhang: The Doja Cat discourse is already exhausting enough, why does this song also have to be produced by Dr. Luke? I’ve been searching my conscience for how I should feel about “Like That,” and at the moment, all I can offer is that I really want to dislike this song — but per Doja’s outro, “I like it.” If Doja keeps releasing bops like this, she might earn her forgiveness yet. 
[6]

Katherine St Asaph: Lukasz “Tyson Trax” “Made in China” “Manhun Glow” Gottwald, having already sampled his way into a comeback hit with “Say So,” is trying for a repeat: a pseudonym, a familiar over-plush Isley Brothers sample (hey, for no reason at all, remember this?) and overfull promo budget, an endless capacity for the world to overlook or forget about shitheads. In times like these, one is incredibly thankful for Doja Cat; it seems sadly inevitable that one of these hits is going to capture the zeitgeist as well as the charts, but it’ll take a vocalist who’s less of an obnoxious edgelord.
[4]

Alfred Soto: Your guess is as good as mine about Dr. Luke’s contributions: two dozen trap beats bounce-bounce-bounce as adeptly. Doja Cat doesn’t need him. But damn if she doesn’t luxuriate in the spaces between the beats. Now someone get in her manager’s ear right quick.
[6]

Nortey Dowuona: Bouncing ball bass is thrown against the wall as Doja sits on Dr. Luke’s lap, they watch WSHH and Dr. Luke texts Gavin McInnes photos of her tail. Meanwhile, a Gucci Mane clone theory video pops up on mix in the playlist with Young Pharaoh playing a soft synth line with a low bassline below it on a synthesizer called White Chocolate.
[5]

Leah Isobel: This is a little livelier than “Say So,” but not by much.
[5]

Oliver Maier: The trouble with trying to mould Doja into a main pop girl is figuring out which of her edges to sand off. I’m talking less about the folder’s worth of receipts levelled at her recently than the cheeky subversive spirit that animated her music pre-ascendancy, a characteristic that has felt increasingly stilted in the transition to superstardom and will doubtless be unbearable by her next album cycle. Jettisoning the playfulness altogether would defeat the point of Doja Cat, however, so the strategy so far has generally been unironic sensuality in sung sections with the kookiness reserved for rapped verses. It doesn’t work! As on “Say So” the split makes both personas feel insincere, like having a bickering angel and devil Doja on either shoulder whose only shared values are being horny and still working with Dr. Fucking Luke. Gucci Mane feels like a chaperone here but he at least knows how to rap. I said of “Juicy” that Doja’s charisma was enough to overcome her lack of obvious talent for either method of vocal delivery. Diminishing returns set in fast.
[3]

Checking in on Canadian country…

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[4.50]

Alfred Soto: Didn’t Justin Moore release something similar? Didn’t somebody? Anybody?
[5]

Steacy Easton: This could have come out anytime in the last ten years, by any number of equally competent singers, and in fact it seems awfully close to Justin Moore’s “Lettin’ the Night Roll.” After last year, post-Lil Nas X, post-Ingrid Andress, it’s just odd to absorb something this retrograde. I’m sure it will do well. 
[2]

Michael Hong: Tyler Joe Miller lays the drawl on thick, paints with only enough detail to let you know that yes, he’s singing about a woman, and makes the most mundane things sound wholly pathetic. Her ghost still casts a shadow, but it’s not large enough to hide the image of a man turning to his vices and withering away.
[3]

Katherine St Asaph: Thoroughly unsurprising but perfectly pleasant country, with a keening arrangement and echoes of Dido’s “Here With Me,” a dash (however accidental; this came out last December) of quarantine resonance and a minimum of condescension or bro. Extra point because in Googling the lyrics I was instead shown this, which really puts things in perspective.
[6]

Tim de Reuse: Credit where credit is due: the use of “pillow talking” to refer to a loud absence after a breakup is genuinely clever, and the not-rhyme of “haunted” against “talkin’” is pretty cute. That’s about all this track has going for it, but since it’s so chorus-heavy, the filler at least doesn’t have to do much filling. I’d normally waste a bunch of keystrokes talking about how awful the snare drum is, but at this point I’m resigned to the fact that chart-topping country music is just going to sound like this forever.
[6]

Alex Clifton: A bit too cliche to be a paradise, but a sight better than a war zone.
[5]

we don’t think it’s quite alright

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[3.83]

Alfred Soto: By hooking the original Frankie Valli tune up with U2’s gauze-covered Joshua Tree stomper, Pet Shop Boys queered them for an early ’90s dance floor. By keeping the beats small and relying on loops, Surf Mesa and Emilee give “Can’t Take My Eyes Off You” the Balearic treatment that might’ve been a sensation a decade ago. All it needs is a Cut Copy remix.
[6]

Wayne Weizhen Zhang: A three-minute-long Instagram ad. 
[3]

Tobi Tella: Nightcore Four Seasons was certainly a choice, but at least it’s an idea in something otherwise devoid of them. I’m unable to imagine anyone dancing to this, but the idea of them taking it sincerely might be worse?
[2]

Scott Mildenhall: Trying to make “Can’t Take My Eyes Off You” tasteful in this way feels, quite viscerally, distasteful. There are few funnier interjections in music than the BUH-DUH, BUH-DUH, BUH-DUH-DUH-DUHs of that song, in whatever form they take, so to elide them is little more than an act of cowardice. Embrace the brashness, or at least pick a more subdued song to subdue.
[3]

Katherine St Asaph: Fine enough dream pop spun, like so much shimmering cobweb, around an interpolation of Frankie Valli and the Four Uwus.
[4]

Alex Clifton: It’s certainly cute and dreamy but insubstantial, cotton candy that’s there on your tongue one moment and gone the next. It would be nice to have the vocalist do something different than sing the same four lines on loop, but at least there’s no shoehorned bloated rap feature or verse. Anyway, production’s nice!
[5]

In addition to seeing this gem on stage at Rotterdam, we also dearly missed hosting our annual Eurovision liveblog (Next year! Hopefully! Please…)

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[7.88]

Alex Clifton: 2020 is a year of “what ifs,” where every event that was cancelled takes on slightly mythic proportions. What would’ve been the biggest surprise at Coachella? What would’ve been revealed at SDCC? How would Eurovision have turned out? That last one is the most disappointing for me of the bunch, because I live for Eurovision in all its catchy campiness, and I was extremely excited to see how “Think About Things” would fare in the competition. It’s a clear winner from the get-go, which is to say it’s a dance song about parenting. (Only in Eurovision would that sentence make sense!) It’s a lovely mix of goofiness, as evidenced by the band’s pixel art sweaters, with a real shot of earnest love directed at Dadi Freyr’s daughter. It’s not something I believe I’ve heard before in this particular combination, but it gives me chills each time. Eurovision 2021 should be taking place in Reykjavik rather than Rotterdam (arguably, it should never have gone to Rotterdam at all, but Oslo) and I’m upset that Dadi Freyr didn’t get the time on the Eurovision stage he deserves, virality and all. It’s the least I can do to award him top points.
[10]

Alfred Soto: This Eurovision contendah boasts a few surprises: the collision of synth bass and a glancing acoustic bass slump, those harmonies, the way Dadi Freyer slips into the chorus like a second-tier love man like Ne-Yo or Ray Parker, Jr. Is it allowed to be summer yet?
[8]

Will Adams: Endearingly kooky disco, something like if Hot Chip traded Alexis Taylor’s warble for Freyr’s peanut-butter thick vocal (speaking of…). The first half is nimble, relying on just a few strong elements: close harmonies, slap bass and synth interplay, chord smears. But then more elements appear — chintzy horns, percussion, a key change — and it starts to wander toward Margaritaville territory.
[6]

Scott Mildenhall: It became suddenly apparent when they actually remixed this how much it has in common with Hot Chip. Winning playfulness belies an open heart, and the altogether lack of soppiness only makes the concept more touching. Taut and bounding, it does give a sense of (self-acknowledged) precision engineering, but far less than it does a sense of genuine delight. It was clear he had a lot in him three years ago, but “Think About Things” goes further; in another lifetime, quite likely all the way to Reykjavik 2021.
[8]

Tobi Tella: The fun is very controlled, but that’s not a bad thing; every second of this feels meticulous and purposeful, the synth comes in for the rescue at the perfect time, the voices are just the right amount of overproduced and the way they release that post-chorus breakdown is smart and thrifty. The strange level of poise makes the slide up and true breakdown at the end feel even more spontaneous and rewarding. 
[7]

Edward Okulicz: Eurovision 2019 was one of the worst editions of the contest in recent memory, and I wish it could have been cancelled retroactively. 2020 was shaping up a lot better, so much so that “Think About Things” didn’t stand out to me as much as it must for others. It’s dinky in a way that exposes Dadi’s limitations — he’s adorkable but the song is too twee for its own good. It’s wimpy, and honestly, the music sounds like something you might have as stock, free music behind a PowerPoint presentation. Too much like Hot Chip at their weediest, I’m afraid. It gets to above average just on charisma, but to me it’s diminishing returns (both song and shtick) from his sublime previous attempt to represent Iceland. I would have taken Russia’s Aqua-with-a-meth-habit submission this year as my pick, and I reckon the juries would have gone with Italy.
[6]

Katie Gill: The 2020 Eurovision winner of our hearts. God, I love this song. It’s a bright, fun, peppy piece of electronica that I’ve been blaring since February. This is a song that doesn’t take itself too seriously and is all the better for it. It’s light and goofy, treading a fine line of ridiculousness without going into full-blown Eurovision camp. It’s about a literal baby! It’s an almost love-song with a dance that deserves to get TikTok famous, a catchy melody, tight harmonies, and again, it’s about an actual baby. If this were a just world and not the apocalyptic hellscape that we currently live in, Dadi Freyr would have won that Eurovision contest (or at least came in second; Azerbaijan was also pretty strong this year) and the entire world would have joined me in having this song perpetually stuck in our heads.
[10]

Steacy Easton: This is just a plain good time, with some excellent horns. 
[8]

And reappearing on the sidebar…

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[7.11]

Wayne Weizhen Zhang: Christine and the Queens fascinates me with how she releases music in English and French. An ordinary artist might translate things word-for-word and hope that meaning is preserved, but Chris doesn’t do that. And it’s not because things are lost in translation — although French is her native language, listen to any of her English interviews and you’ll see that she’s more articulate than most native English speakers — it’s because she capitalizes on opportunities to add nuance and complexity. “I Disappear in Your Arms” and “Je Disparais Dans tes Bras” are both about the toxicity of a particular relationship, but the lyrics feel like two different yet interwoven points of view. Sometimes, the imagery of a line is altered slightly but purposefully (English: “Don’t you dare, biting me once again, it already shows” vs. French: “You want to bite without consequence, I’m already bleeding”). Other times, the imagery is different entirely (English: “I guess I need to turn all of these tears into solid gold” vs. French: “You already shine bright on my skin”). Other times still, the perspective of a line is flipped (English: “When I dared to forgive you through my pain, you punished me more” vs. French: “You never forgive others for hurting you”). Even the choruses of the two songs feel completely different: the English version starts with a declaration “You say you love me,” while the French version ruminates: “Could you love me?” It is like watching an already stellar movie, and then watching it again in 3D. There’s so much to compare and unravel, making the two companions an endlessly fascinating listen. 
[9]

Scott Mildenhall: In English or French, it’s a wounded riposte, as sharp as its accusations before inevitable sublimation, but the subtle differences give each their own spin. There’s the split between not wanting the whole of a person and wanting something beyond that whole, and there’s the shift from “de l’autre” to “of beauty”, but most interesting is the translation of the title not being reflected in the lyrics. Arms become eyes, surpassing the physical and enhancing the semantic potential. The notion of dissolving selfhood is there in the original, but here it becomes that bit more pointed, and even poetic.
[8]

Katherine St Asaph: Love as a threat to autonomy: the tension barely beneath Beyonce’s underrated “Sweet Dreams” and barely beneath this, which echoes the Sasha Fierce track in beat, low, perseverating synth and punctuating whispers. “I Disappear In Your Arms” has melody, but no resolution.
[8]

Tobi Tella: Gay version of “walking away from an explosion” music: moody but extremely propulsive. A little stagnant, and I wasn’t nearly as enraptured by the end, but the drama of it all carries it.
[6]

Michael Hong: I tend to prefer the lithe Christine, the one who made you feel like you were five feet away from the stage and that she’d never disappear, no matter how tilted the stage was. Everything about “I Disappear in Your Arms” feels like it’s meant to create distance — the way “you love me” suddenly turns into “I doubt it,” and the aggressive shuffle of the beat that pushes her voice further away. By the time Christine lands in the abstract outro, only one part of the title feels true, and it feels like she’s an ocean away.
[4]

Alfred Soto: The synths blare like foghorns, the percussion ticks like a metronome, and Christine turns her aqueous self into something fit to hold on to, arms and legs not required. The track itself often disappears. 
[6]

Steacy Easton: Languorous and sensuous beats threaten to overtake a chanteuse’s voice. Almost disco, at its slowest and most anxious, the build-up without release has obvious erotic tension. Love here means love, and any number of other promises given and taken away. Extra point for where the track sounds like it is literally releasing steam.
[8]

William John: In the surrounds of the dolorous “People, I’ve Been Sad” and the enchanting ululations of “La Vita Nuova” on February’s EP, this track doesn’t command attention in quite the same way, even with its use of a droning “Sweet Dreams” synth. Those are high bars to clear, and there’s something about the way Christine sings, highlighted here in particular with her strident marches onward after an abrupt pause for breath, and her ability to open up crevasses in the song with a sudden bellow, that unavoidably invite the thrill of her live performances into the listener’s mind. Chris has produced a great deal of live-from-the-attic lockdown content, so this escapist vision doesn’t have to remain pure fantasy for those of us with an internet connection. But I get the feeling that this song’s drama will only truly be felt in a darkened room, with Chris facing a group of enraptured strangers, eyes steeled and microphone in hand.
[7]

Alex Clifton: Like every other song Chris has released, you can’t just play this once. The beat begs to be looped, and who am I to deny a synth line like that? It’s a lovely display of Chris’s talent for taking sour subjects and turning them into something eminently listenable, turning all these tears to “solid gold” indeed.
[8]

Now do it again.

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[5.33]

Nina Lea: Immediately before listening to this track, I’d written a review for the also-R&B, identically-titled track “Do It” by Chloe x Halle. And while I tried my very best to listen to this “Do It” on its own merits, the differences are astounding. Chloe x Halle’s “Do It” sparkles with newness; Toni’s “Do It” sounds dated, like it could have played on the Adult R&B radio 10 or 15 years ago. I kept waiting for Toni to take it somewhere, but she never did. Despite singing lyrics that lament a man who “ain’t gonna change… it’s gonna be the same,” Toni has changed very little herself.
[2]

Tobi Tella: The musical equivalent of treading water. She sounds nice, those piano chords sure are plunking away, and there’s something hinting at lyrical depth, but I can’t bring myself to care. 
[4]

Alfred Soto: Six years after a comeback, the Queen of Hearts can’t stop playing the supplicant; she dwells in the land of rue and anxiety. “Do It” unfolds as a monologue in which she admits to suffering exquisitely, not by an errant lover so much as herself. You think Conor Oberst and Perfume Genius would writhe like this for 27 more years?
[7]

Nortey Dowuona: A limping piano follows Toni’s husky, hewn voice as she laments the gasping bass and halting percussion lying arm in arm on the floor of her smashed living room. Then kicks enter and start helping both of them up and sitting them down with sparkles sweeping in with synth strings to patch them up. The snare fixes up the room as Toni makes the bass and percussion tea, and the kicks, synth strings and sparkles sit down as well.
[9]

Tim de Reuse: The lyrics are direct and uncomplicated, which is a point in the tune’s favor, I think; the “Do what you need to do” pops because nothing is spoken about through allegory or metaphor. The impact is lessened by the overbearing instrumentation, which muddies up all the detail in Braxton’s performance with numb reverb, wind chimes, and flavorless synths.
[6]

Wayne Weizhen Zhang: No one in the midst of recording this Emotional Power Ballad™ thought to tell Toni Braxton that this beat sounds like tongue pops? 
[4]

Do it.

[Video][Website]
[7.29]

Leah Isobel: No matter how much music I listen to or how old I get, it never stops being thrilling to see young, talented artists level the fuck up. Chloe and Halle Bailey’s debut record showed so much promise, but was a little too precocious and heady for its own good. But like many a pop record about doing things before it, “Do It” works because it focuses on immediate, physical pleasures: looking good, dancing with your friends, curving dudes, and singing flawless harmonies. 
[9]

David Moore: The squishy bass plays well against the airiness of the vocals, which evoke an earlier era of feather-light performances that are nonetheless commanding — Cassie, Natasha, Christina Milian. Like a lot of Chloe x Halle, it feels out of time, carved into a little tucked-away corner of the pop mainstream, ghost music for phantom clubs.
[7]

Alfred Soto: Turns out whispery vocals over trap beats is cool as hell, and Chloe x Halle are the duo for it. Desperation as a wink-wink performance. A breathy kiss of a single. 
[7]

Tobi Tella: “Keeping it cute” really is the best way to describe this: more mature and fun without getting rid of the duo’s best qualities. Is it a little bit basic? Sure, but just because a certain lane of music — light R&B about nothing in particular — is overdone doesn’t make it inherently bad.
[7]

Nina Lea: On first listen, I found “Do It” pretty underwhelming–it seemed to have slightly less of both the inventiveness of other tracks on Ungodly Hour and the youthful sparkle of “Happy Without Me.” But it’s slowly grown on me, radiating a sense of clear self-possession and a soaring openness usually absent from songs about going to the club.
[6]

Nortey Dowuona: A smooth, frosted synth is sprayed over the loopy, lurching bass and shivering percussion, which is paved over with heavy bass synths as Chloe and Halle glide across it. They twirl together as they leap atop the bass synth mixer and lean back and float right up. Then slick drum programming slides down over the synths and melts them while Chloe and Halle float down and walk away.
[8]

Wayne Weizhen Zhang: “Do,” “crew,” “cool,” “boo”, “you”, “mood,” “cute, “ooh”: individually, they’re short, punchy words, but together, they culminate in a fluffy cloud of assonance so dreamlike you could practically float away. The rest of the song is just as clever and aurally pleasing: “Do It” is one of the best “good vibes only” anthem released thus far in 2020. 
[7]