The joke is that all of the Jukeboxers go out dancing alone to the same club every Friday — and they don’t even know it…
Iain Mew: Wow, this is like if Delilah reimagined “Dancing on My Own” to actually be about dancing on your own. It’s almost ridiculously self-descriptive — “I go dancing, it’s so intense” — but hypnotic enough to live up to it, Indiana and minimal backing forming a feeling of total, obsessive focus. The results are breathtaking enough that the beautiful cosmic synth breakdown in the middle is probably a physical necessity. I want to go and dance to this until everything else has gone from my mind too.
Alfred Soto: The spare, flip, diffident response to “Dancing On My Own,” the better to prepare us for the strings auguring the arrival of a lovely three-note synth hook and Indiana’s nonplussed bathroom mirror moves.
Katherine St Asaph: There’s dancing as release, dancing as life, dancing as love or sex or crushing; this is dancing as plotting, or preying, dancing like a dagger over skin — deadly serious, and thus rare, to be savored.
Edward Okulicz: This is dance music as pure pleasure and nihilism at the same time, not dancing to the end of the world, more dancing to bring that end forward. Even when the track brings some light (the synths feel like an 8-bit sunrise), it never loses the cold brooding at its core. Reminds me of both Little Boots and Bertine Zetlitz, both of which are huge assets, but Indiana’s vocal has a chilling numbness neither of those women have ever sought. Will soundtrack many more late-night work sessions and crying jags than actual times on the floor, but those things need movement and a soundtrack too. Sounds like single of the year material.
Scott Mildenhall: This comes exactly as described, a reduction to the barest elements: motion, sound, self. The quiet intensity is captivating; oneness, if only for a while. No questions, no answers, just dancing.
Brad Shoup: It’s the “Lookout Weekend” vocal line, refitted for people who can’t have fun.
Will Adams: In a world where dancing on your own connotes loneliness and desperation, it’s nice to have a song that sticks up for people like me who are perfectly happy to get lost to the music on the dancefloor without needing anyone else. It’d be better to have that song be more, you know, danceable.
Crystal Leww: That stuttering synth reminds me of Robyn, as does the concept of dancing by yourself, but this is more relatable for me at this point in my life because Indiana is more at peace with herself. As the girl who often goes dancing by herself because the dance floor has become a simultaneous point of release and self-reflection, I can appreciate Indiana’s need for repetition, the desire to be alone, and her fascination with the laws of motion. There’s the slightest sense of desperation here, but it’s not for anyone else; it’s for herself.
Anthony Easton: The score is excessive and it rests entirely on guts. I’m not sure if they are my instincts or her bravery. Here are ten reasons to suggest it might, one for each point I’ve given this: 1) The handclaps. 2) The synths. The synths are like reigned horses that never go faster than the song intends. 3) When she says “broken” and it goes into that SF/trance smooshed-out jazz sound. 4) She sounds like a slightly warmer Grace Jones. 5) When she sings about it being intense, it actually sounds, without rancour or irony, like one of the most intense, almost intimidating things I have ever heard. 6) It ends at that sudden place, which is almost like cliff jumping. 7) How she sings ooooooh, and then she sings how I move, so the oooooohs are not vowels for the sake of vowels. 8) The utter self-reliance of the track, and how it does not sound bitter or lonely. 9) That it doesn’t make me want to dance, that it becomes a platonic object about the nature of dancing rather than the desire to dance itself. 10) That the combo of 8 and 9 make the song a synthesis about how dancing is constructed in pop music, plus a perfect pop song.