The video is roughly one-third shoving, one-third sticking out of tongue, one-third I HAVE PHONE NOW. In case you were wondering…
Dan MacRae: Hey rich teens! Are you planning on accidentally running over a homeless person and driving away like nothing ever happened? Ke$ha and 3OH!3 have got the soundtrack for that adventure covered.
Chuck Eddy: I approve of Ke$ha; sometimes I even like her. Last time I checked, “D.I.N.O.$.A.U.R.” and “Ki$$ N Tell” were my favorite non-“Tik Tok”-ers on her album. I have also approved of 3OH!3 on occasion, and I don’t doubt they were made for each other. But tragically, this cut never catches up to its wonderfully infantile nursery-rhymes-with-guitar-riffs-scatched-in-by-turntablist beginning. Sad!
John Seroff: The genderfuck politics are fun and this is a big ball of stoopid but it’s not half as interesting as “Tik Tok” or even “DINOSAUR”.
Matt Cibula: Gave eight points to the beat, so you can work out how much I took off for the confused boring poorly-done lyrics by Our Lady of Perpetual Skankitude, and how much for the worst “featured” appearance I’ve ever heard in my life.
Alfred Soto: Obnoxious in the best sense. I’m impressed by Ke$ha’s continued reluctance to sing — let alone enunciate — like a good girl. She’s like the guy who deliberately sits in a squeaky chair to bother neighbors.
Kat Stevens: Was I this annoying when I was 24? I’m fairly sure I stopped making huge sexist generalisations about Men Do This But Women Think That around then. I also stopped hiding my swearwords with squelchy sound effects, because that got boring VERY QUICKLY.
Martin Skidmore: Okay, let’s start by dismissing the idea that this is a song about men in the style that male rappers talk about women: no it isn’t. There are two or three lines that fit with that, but most of it doesn’t – when did men focus on whether the women will get it from them? She delivers it with some confidence and force, and the bouncy electro tones work well enough, but it’s half-hearted in its publicised aim. One of those times where I might have liked it more had I had no knowledge of its intent.
Martin Kavka: I like things retro. Indeed, I have prayed to Gloria Gaynor for the return of the music of my youth. But this throwback to the sounds of the early video arcade — dark, soulless, and devoid of companionship — is hardly what I wanted. (Damn you, Gloria!!) The first things that pop into my head as I hear “Blah Blah Blah” are images from fashion magazines dating from when women first began to shatter glass ceilings in corporate workplaces; the range of approved fashion choices went from unflattering variations on men’s suit-and-tie combo to even more unflattering variations. Ke$ha’s pose, as she tells some guy to STFU if he wants to get laid, looks just as mannish and just as ugly.
Anthony Easton: That they are working on the same problems, using the same musical tools, and the same heritage of white boy hip hop and suburban house, ratchets up the nasty (nasty as in bodies, as in ideas, as in presentation). The ugliness, the abrasiveness, the refusal of sweetness, the hard edge is so blank and so amoral; the amorality makes it.
Doug Robertson: Ke$ha has dollar signs in both her name and her eyes, which is fair enough really as generally she’s pretty ace, but this is essentially filler for the Galaxy FM drivetime show. It never really lifts off, and seems content to just idle at the traffic lights, revving it’s engine every now and then in a bid to show willing but failing to actually take the initiative. Maybe the dollar has devalued more than I realised.
Frank Kogan: Tunefully pretty clatter that’s clatter nonetheless, fusillades of frosting from all sides, chocolate kisses battling with sugar squirts, totally blah-blah-blah appropriate. Wiseacres 3OH!3 show up sounding proper and somnolent in comparison and are instantly obliterated by Ke$ha’s cotton-candy eruption.
Keane Tzong: The appearance of 3OH!3 is a grievous mistake from which “Blah Blah Blah” almost fails to recover. Aside from that misstep, it’s, well, more Ke$ha: aggressive, featherweight fun that prompts the question “but why is showing up to the recording booth drunk a bad thing?” I’ve made up my mind on her, and by now you probably have too.