The Singles Jukebox

Pop, to two decimal places.

Snoop Dogg & Wiz Khalifa ft. Bruno Mars – Young, Wild & Free

Bruno, Wiz, Snoop, for the record…


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Hazel Robinson: A line-up that makes an excellent “fuck, marry, kill.” While I’m probably one of the last living critical advocates of Wiz Khalifa, I can’t possibly pretend I approve of him working with Bruno Mars, and a less-than-intently attentive listen to this will leave you confused as to whether Snoop Dogg actually turned up to collect his credit here. Wiz makes a good attempt at picking this out of the suspiciously Phantom Planet-esque hook, but something that doesn’t even pretend not to be eulogising some imagined concept of Further Education is only ever going to be so much “whatever.”
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Pete Baran: Gosh, Snoop and Wiz on the same track. I wonder what they could be rapping about? I do hope they don’t light one up — they’ll use the world’s weed supply in about a day. Actually, if they are corrupting Bruno Mars, I don’t really care. There is a remarkably soft side to both Snoop and Wiz, which this plays off. As long as your 80-year-old grandmother misses the weed references (by being hard of hearing), this is her favourite rap song of the year.
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Katherine St Asaph: Elegant waiting-room music for the “doctor’s” “office.” I might be adding a point out of sheer relief that Mac Miller isn’t on this, merely constantly name-dropped.
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Alfred Soto: Indolence sounds so attractive when baited with a Paul McCartney-esque piano hook and communal belting. So indolent, in fact, that none of the title stars sound like themselves, or anyone at all.
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Jonathan Bogart: If Bruno Mars is going to be the new Nate Dogg, that’s fine. If he’s going to be anything else in addition, then we have problems.
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Zach Lyon: Calvin, you are forty years old. I still remember that news cycle about quitting tree for your kids, like six years ago. Stop it. And: of all the enablers in the world… Bruno Mars? I won’t call this “sad,” but I won’t call it anything else, either.
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Brad Shoup: Would’ve been perfect but for Snoop’s placeholding first verse in the bar-swapping portion of the song. The track’s light as a gas — a weird amalgam of reminiscence and acting — but Wiz and Snoop cook up the gift of pure pop. And that chorus! It’s indelible; easy and inviting, pride without posture. The bros showing up at the end is pure icing. This tune summons summer, and should for decades to come.
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