Dunno if he’s mates with Daryl Hall…
John Seroff: A roiling pot of throbbing, reddish-orange impulses and LCD Soundsystem hooks. This is the Sun of an overheated world: angry, relentless and more than a bit off-kilter. If the song never quite coagulates into dessert, it’s sufficiently vital as sauce for sweaty moments.
Anthony Easton: There is something so techincal in the placement of beats here — a delicate construction that suggests a narrative where new sounds are placed in regular intervals over 6 minutes – and the rigor of that practice elevates any boredom that might occur into a transcendental/meditative practice.
Jonathan Bogart: With all those signifiers of transcendent bliss, why does it still feel lumpy and earthbound? Possibly because the word “sun” doesn’t connote good things when you live in the American Southwest.
Alfred Soto: The shrewdly timed fades and distortions evoke sunstroke, but not delirium. A glass of water and you’re okay. Don’t trim the bushes after eleven in the morning.
Mallory O’Donnell: “Sun” is a glorious little tune, blissful and a bit single-minded in its’ way, but quite fine where you left it, right on the album, right after “Odessa”. I understand the tactical move of this as a second single, but I can’t help but wish Snaith had grown some real balls and dropped the bass-fi exotica of “Bowls”, or ballsier still, “Found Out”. Points docked merely for the wearying predictability of it all.
Michaelangelo Matos: One of those album tracks that sounds pretty good, growing in stature as it moseys along (for nearly six minutes) without announcing itself too much. I imagine the remixes will tell more concrete tales.
Chuck Eddy: So is this something that a, er, rave club would play when the sun is coming up? Or is it more something one might dance to while the sun’s been out awhile, or maybe even while sunbathing? Do people still listen to stuff like this at all?
Martin Skidmore: The indie electronica dance music here is a little awkward, but often kind of lovely too, shimmering chords smoothing out the somewhat inelegant flow of the beats. Thankfully we don’t get much of his useless vocals, little but the title, and that processed. Arguably it outstays its useful life by a couple of minutes, but I kind of like it.
Kat Stevens: At the moment I am a total sucker for anything that sounds like Joy Orbison. I also feel incredibly smug with myself for correctly guessing that this dude must be slap bang in the middle of at least one James Holden mix CD.
Doug Robertson: Blissful bleepiness, this is the sun as seen through a pixilation filter; block hard but still recognisable. This isn’t the smooth, laidback sound that normally gets associated with Ibiza sunsets, but sometimes the sunburn is all you can remember.