Jonathan Bogart: RÖYKSOPP IZ RÖYKSOPP
Martin Skidmore: Bar the odd team-up with Robyn, I like them when they give us a pretty tune and don’t much care at other times. This has little of that, instead pulsing away quietly and thoughtfully for six minutes. It’s pleasant enough, but far too diffident to hold my attention, let alone grab it. Might make a decent soundtrack for nocturnal urban wandering in a movie, perhaps.
Mallory O’Donnell: In addition to feeling let down by this being Royksopp (a sensation I’m grumpily getting used to), I’m let down by this being a song called “The Drug” that fails to evoke any of the sensations actually associated with “the drugs”. It is, however, quite a convincing approximation of that one afternoon you were totally without drugs of any kind and spent several hours waiting by the phone hoping the guy with drugs would call, rubbing your temples, staring at the dorm wall and listening to that one Aphex Twin album.
Edward Okulicz: Frustrating like an itch, dull like a night in a nightclub by yourself and weak like hold music.
Katherine St Asaph: More like a sedative.
Alfred Soto: Easy like Sunday morning.
Chuck Eddy: Hack Muzak, featuring static in both noun and adjective varieties. The incidental noises and black holes don’t seem to evolve naturally out the electro-pulse; just seem tacked on. In other words, it’d flunk the read-or-write-to-it test.
Michaelangelo Matos: Subtle. Really subtle. Very subtle. Too fucking subtle.