Accept no imitators.

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Patrick St. Michel: Yesterday was Kyary Pamyu Pamyu’s 20th birthday, and that’s the big one in Japan. It’s the age where one is considered an adult… and more importantly, the legal age to get tanked and smoke up. “Furisodeshon” is Kyary’s big coming-of-age bonanza, as the chorus mostly consists of her shouting about her new age and the verses about becoming a grown-up. To match the ecstatic mood, producer Yasutaka Nakata has gone and channeled the music he was making in his early twenties. His earliest material was often giddy, sometimes hyper, and here he’s pulling out tricks he hasn’t used in some time (check that piano lurking underneath all the electronics). It’s a little more reeled in than his younger experiments, but “Furisodeshon” is a nice hat tip to Shibuya-kei while also being a great sound for Kyary to get wild to.
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Will Adams: I’m still miffed we didn’t cover the fantastic “Fashion Monster,” and “Furisodeshon” only makes up for it partially. Nakata’s production is fresh as ever and reaffirms his position in my mind as one of the best soundsmiths in the world. But it’s hard to find a center within all the clamor, and I prefer my chaos a bit more organized.
[6]

Iain Mew: Kyary is such a great pop star that she definitely has the potential for another breakout combination of song and visuals like “Pon Pon Pon,” but it hasn’t happened yet. “Tsukema Tsukeru” and “Candy Candy” were lesser all round; “Fashion Monster” turned out to be great but was too much of a grower and had a boring video. Now “Furisodeshon” has her most enjoyable (and most gif-ready) video yet but lacks the hooks to match. The fairground waltz instrumentals and removal of any sharp edges do make it gently blissful in a happy drunk kind of way, though.
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Anthony Easton: I keep worrying that my reaction to this is a product of some  combination of racism or sexism, so I have had to check my privilege. Yet it keeps coming back to me… this sounds like the soundtrack to a hipster kids show– a Japanese remake of The Powerpuff Girls, for example. It’s the reason why I like it, though. 
[7]

Rebecca A. Gowns: Here’s a rough translation: it’s a birthday song! Kyrary turned 20 yesterday and released this single in anticipation. She’s as much a visual artist as a musical one (remember that she started out as a Harajuku fashion blogger?), so of course you have to watch the video. She plays with J-pop tropes of cuteness and femininity in really exciting ways in all of her music videos — like, she really plays — and this one is no exception. It’s a great tune, and I love this sentiment: “Chocolate’s bitter parts/Are you an adult? Are you a child?/Because I want to have dreams forever.” Another year older, but she’s only just begun. I want to see her keep going!
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Brad Shoup: I rarely translate these fusion-type toplines well. There’s a dread power in something so determinedly placid, so thank God for the synth-pop instrumental figure (I’m pretending it’s being played by a third-wave ska horn section). If you got the spins on your very special twentieth, you’d probably want to latch onto something like this: a raucous reminder that you’re great, you don’t have that much figured out, and if you need to run to the toilet the band’s got you covered.
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Alfred Soto: Of its kind this is the equivalent of Scott Walker’s “The Electrician” — slow enough to savor the filigrees, in this case the lovely piano anchoring the verses. Kyary’s vocal is as blank as Walker’s too, as intentionally affectless as his is steeped in affect.
[5]

Katherine St Asaph: I’m not particularly invested in Kyary Pamyu Pamyu as a pop or fashion idol, though it’s impressive how many critics have become so how fast. (Only critics. And fans, naturally. As for civilians, I could’t even begin to tell you their stance.) It’s the sort of thing I try to be less susceptible to, as it’s got a habit of fostering fake narratives and overshadowing the music. Here that wouldn’t need to be the case; this is produced by Yasutaka Nakata, who’s done work for Capsule and Perfume lush enough to stand alone without the rooms full of knickknacks (impressive in their own way, but ultimately extramusical) and magazine meet-cute shoots by Nicola Formichetti. This isn’t so lush, unfortunately. The story: Kyary’s not a girl, not yet a woman. The music: MIDI jazz, cheery interstitial music for a program I’m not watching.
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Edward Okulicz: The context tells us she’s an adult now, but the music and the way she sings it says she’s going to be young forever.
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