The Singles Jukebox

Gettin’ their Joan Holloway on…

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[6.71]

John Seroff: So what we got here is your standard Ron Browz-y autotune peacocking over a bumpy meatgrinder danchehall riddim, requisite curtains of sateen synth, moaning women, weird squealing effects. Pretty unremarkable stuff until Nina Sky blows it up with a choppy incantation of I-GOT-THE-GIRLS-IN-THE-TRUCK–BOUT-SIX-CHICKS-DEEP, dead on the beat. This packs a helluva punch, and the Lazer crew is savvy enough to return to it constantly. I can’t remember the last time one individual element salvaged a song so completely, but everything else here is comparatively watery gravy.
[7]

Briony Edwards: This song has much potential: At first, the man’s shouting, and he sounds all angry, and it’s totally awesome. Also, Nina Sky are way good – by far the saviour of a song that would be nothing without them. And then the house anthem 2k9 kicks in towards the end, and that’s also a nice touch. However, the song overall is ultimately massacred by the GRATUITOUS use of AUTOTUNE. When will they learn? When? When? WHEN?
[6]

Spencer Ackerman: This is how you write an early-morning club banger, and how you use Auto-Tune well. Pure running-on-fumes energy about sex and the club, sung so goddamn well by Ricky and especially Nina. True fact: this summer I came home from some show, drunk as a skunk at 2 a.m., and did my entire prep for the next afternoon’s barbecue while blasting this and moving to, uh, bottle service.
[9]

Keane Tzong: Somehing about the fact that this is being released in wretched, gloomy October infuriates me: this should have been my August. Hell, it should have been the entire world’s August. I know it shouldn’t matter, and that a song like this is, or should be, indelible regardless of when it’s released, but the idea of having this soundtrack any part of the year but the hottest months just seems wrong to me. So that’s why this doesn’t get a [10].
[9]

Michaelangelo Matos: Everything in its right place, every element fine-tuned for maximum effect, the beats ingratiating, the vocals layered but breathable, hooks plentiful and generous, yet this record leaves me cold. Could be that Nina Sky always fall short for me engagement-wise; could be the “My Love” synth-strobe never did much for me in the first place and now I just wait for it to pass, like a bad subway ride. But something tells me that if I were to encounter it on the right dance floor, or blowing the Black Eyed Peas to smithereens on the radio, I’d feel more charitable, as I just did typing that, so I’m hedging.
[6]

Alfred Soto: The good Major, aware that he’d finally recorded a dud, left Ricky and Nina and their goddamn chicks six feet deep to watch Mad Men at home.
[2]

Anthony Miccio: Diplo and Switch may be pandering to hipsters with that minstrel twitter shit, but the craft that goes into their pop dancehall betrays no sardonicism. This isn’t a parody of Akon — it’s a demo reel meant for his ear. Sharing it with the blogosphere could just be a way to raise their profile, and hence, asking price. Radio will only benefit if their mission is accomplished.
[8]