Calvin Harris: The new machine…

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[5.86]

Patrick St. Michel: Florence Welch works wonders as an EDM-vocals ringer, her overly dramatic delivery sounding way better matched up against the continuous-peaks style of Calvin Harris than her work plus The Machine.  So it isn’t shocking how well she fits in on “Sweet Nothings.”  What is surprising is how layered Harris’ production sounds – those Space-Invader bloops which gurgle up during the verses and go into difficult setting come the big electronic release stand out.  The whole song sounds less lunkheaded than some of Harris’ other recent releases, and Welch elevates it even further. 
[7]

Brad Shoup: Lord help me, those burbles on the chorus make me giddy. The melody seems to have shorn Florence of her divahood, and she doesn’t really do “fun.” Sorry y’all, it’s time for a trial separation.
[5]

Anthony Easton: The excess of this makes it: the endless disco lasers, the growl of the production, the all consuming appetites of her voice. Even the small place in the middle, where things narrow a little and calm down a lot seem less taking a breath than a way to add emphasis. I don’t believe a word of it, but as a technical object, it should be rewarded. 
[9]

Will Adams: What would normally undermine a dance song — the lack of a snare on the second and fourth beats, a nagging one-note synth line — actually enhances “Sweet Nothings.” It’s all a bit abrasive, between Florence’s hollering and the gloriously unsubtle production, but then again, it’s denouncing the sugar-coated shells that would tumble from this liar’s mouth. It could also be a commentary on dance music as well, but who can read so much into it while fist-pumping so much?
[7]

Iain Mew: Look at his album tracklisting. It’s ridiculous. It’s like David Guetta’s campaign of turning every track into a hit single, with a different guest star for each, except that Harris has done it all before the album’s even come out. And it has “We Found Love” on! Shameless. Given which, couldn’t he have managed to include “Spectrum” instead of a redundant attempt to recapture it from all of a month later?
[3]

Katherine St Asaph: Florence Welch’s tragic-heroine schtick has evidently developed to the point where she gets tuberculosis. Calvin Harris doesn’t understand this thing called development. 
[5]

Jonathan Bogart: Exactly like what those two names propped up against each other would lead you to expect: loudness versus loudness until the ringing in your ears is the only relief.
[5]