The Kills – Satellite
It was at that moment I knew she would never set fire to my leg hairs again…
[Video][Website]
[6.36]
Anthony Easton: Sucker for the ooos, love the distorted guitars, nothing deep to say about this, except it’s real and quite lovely.
[5]
Martin Skidmore: This feels like a slowish workout rather than an actual song, and without disliking the way it rolls along, it feels like an aimless ramble.
[4]
Jonathan Bogart: I know, I know. It’s supposed to sound like that.
[5]
Jer Fairall: A crunchy center, but no appetizing candy shell.
[5]
Alfred Soto: Thickly textured quasi-reggae, and pissed off about it.
[7]
Jonathan Bradley: The appeal of the Kills is always at least fifty per cent reliant on atmosphere and texture, so I would have thought a new single distinguished by lurch rather than melody might retain some appeal. It really doesn’t; there’s no gleam in the murk, no rising tension or engaging dynamic. Like an arty short gone wrong, the result is grainy and indistinct. If that’s meant to be a boogie, the only movement it prompts is an awkward shuffling of feet as you wait for the thing to end.
[4]
Rebecca Toennessen: It took me a while for this song to grow on me, but I’m glad I gave it a chance. Mosshart’s growly vocals work well over layers of snarly, crunchy guitar. I’m still unsure about The Kills and prefer The Dead Weather, but then again I think there’s not much that can’t be improved with Jack White.
[9]
Katherine St Asaph: For once it’s the female vocalist who ruins things, not the male; fortunately, her line works easily as a descant to mentally leave off. That way we can get to the real point of this track: wallowing in sleaze while some vaguely disreputable guy sings at you, and letting it go on indefinitely.
[8]
Zach Lyon: I know two other songs from The Kills, “Hitched,” which I liked in 2003 and “Last Day of Magic,” which I first heard last year. “Satellite” is so reminiscent of both that I’m inclined to say that they need to try something new, but they’re so pleasant at low dosage and high volume that I won’t complain.
[7]
Ian Mathers: Everything about Midnight Boom, from the guitar tone to the jumprope rhyme loops to the cracked-open percussion to the lyrics was sparse, nasty, and deliciously ersatz. The low-slung organ groove vamping along beneath “Satellite” is only the latter, and makes it sound like they want to join Grinderman or something. That’s offset by the wordless parts where they shamelessly steal from the Congos’ “Fisherman,” and the combination means I’ve been unable to get this out of my head all week.
[9]
Doug Robertson: Since when did The Kills become an Auteurs cover band? I mean, this is good and all that, but Luke Haines could do a much better job of coming up with a tribute to his work himself.
[7]