Oops, I did it again!

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[5.62]

Will Adams: Kelis is aware of the concept of diminishing returns, so switching producers is already a wise decision. Switching from Guetta to Skream is even wiser. The persistent moodiness of “Distance” makes for a more genuine I’m-fed-up piece, but it sounds unfinished, as if Kelis hasn’t laid down a lead vocal and all that’s there are backing vocals.
[5]

Anthony Easton: Sort of ambitious, but gossamer thin, with a lovely and quite artful surface skating. Not sure if any of those are compliments. 
[6]

Alfred Soto: Weightless and colorless. Probably odorless too.
[4]

Jer Fairall: Puts some distance of its own between Kelis and her recent dabblings with commercial dance pop’s rolodex of Guettas and Harrises via some tingly synths and a tense, minimal drum loop, but she comes at the vocal with a breathy wisp that signals anonymity far more than it does the dramatic tension that was no doubt intended.
[6]

Iain Mew: The line “I taste the difference” is the most distracting one for my British ears since J. Lo’s dancefloor vomit. That may be why I’m struggling to get too involved with “Distance”, as well-honed as its moodiness is — it’s difficult to appreciate tension when thinking about grocery shopping.
[5]

Jonathan Bogart: I’d guess that she’s barely released this as a proper single and is doing no promotion behind it because she wants to avoid overeager critics drawing a line between it and Nas’ new album, the promotion for which has featured question after question about the dissolution of their relationship. Unfortunately, without that narrative adding juice to the “I don’t want to feel this distance between us” refrain, there’s not a whole lot left to latch onto — this is Kelis at her most impersonal and uninvolved.
[7]

Katherine St Asaph: “Distance” is more or less the same song as “Climax,” but with one key difference: the metaphor. Usher never mentions distance, and Diplo never provides any. Every synth is laser-crisp, every sound pristine, and you hear Usher’s every flinch, each moment more of resignation. Kelis does mention it, and she and Skream give you a house track heard from afar and seen through fog. That’s a fairly standard beat, but it’s too faraway to assert itself; those are daggers in Kelis’s voice, but there’s too much smoke for her to land them. This is partly why Usher will get the song of the year and Kelis will get overlooked — and yes, untold promotional dollars are the other, larger part, but you can’t discount “Climax”‘s immediacy and “Distance”‘s lack thereof. The most tragic part is that Kelis allows herself neither climax nor the last word. 
[7]

Brad Shoup: Her phlegmatic timbre does so much to excuse the vocal remove. But nothing’s working hard here. Not the backing vocals, not the crappily-panned snare pattern, not the bass. But I’ll accept this as a promise of more work.
[5]