Let there be a DJ in the midst of drivetime, and let the ninety-eighth caller win two tickets to Rock of Ages…

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[5.12]

Jonathan Bogart: It’s the hot new thing in holistic entertainment power systems: Hologram Pop! Reproductive technology has come so close to replacing reality that you might as well never leave your VR pod. Aesthetically, the essential point of contention is whether you take a Baudrillardian or Deleuzian view of the simulacrum as a philosophical object; are you trapped in the Matrix, or are you a Lacuna, Inc. customer? That is, do you believe that historical objects belong fixed in history, or are you so wounded by life that you prefer to wrap yourself in the comforting blanket of memory, whether or not it’s true?
[6]

Brad Shoup: On first listen, this sounds like a travel agency recreating Donald Fagen’s The Nightfly from memory. One wonders where this song will slot in their massive touring setlist. The infernal “Kokomo” — its sonic second cousin — has a coveted encore spot, and this song is pretty much the thematic summation of everything else they’ll perform.
[5]

Alfred Soto: I just wasn’t made for these boys, but the mix and harmonies are so immaculate that its fusty nostalgia doesn’t turn self-congratulatory. I mean, do they or any of their fans listen to the radio anymore?  
[5]

Jer Fairall: Would-be mournful nostalgia for a time when California could be dreamt from anywhere with a signal and a car radio to blast it out of, but these no-longer-boys seem oblivious that this “whole new generation” is one more likely to be plugged into playlists of their own devising than be caught waiting around for divine intervention.
[4]

Edward Okulicz: If the idea was to keep the classic sound, they’ve done well, because despite its modernity, the harmonies have the same warmth as ever. What isn’t classic is the song, which is trite. Very few songs about the radio are actually any good, and… look, let’s just say this is hardly “Kokomo.”
[4]

Iain Mew: The harmonies are as powerful as they are nostalgic and almost lift this above totally rote. Almost, but not quite. Just as they reach their full glory, voices joined and reaching up for God, music stepping out of the way… there’s a dull thud of a drum that is the sound of the song falling on its face in a slapstick manner, the organ strikes up, and though it tries to get up again, it’s now like wading through quicksand.
[4]

Katherine St Asaph: Not hooky enough to be a killer pop single, not gorgeous enough to be a killer back catalogue track, this is why God made the skip function.
[6]

Anthony Easton: A little threadbare, but not nearly as threadbare as when they had Uncle Jesse play with them or when Brian Wilson tried to remake his best work 20 years after his prime. The points are mostly for returning to something, somewhere, that is slightly closer to where they were.
[7]