The Singles Jukebox

Given the choice between this and the Bon Iver-covering sprog, it’d be this every time…

[Video][Website]
[6.29]

Hazel Robinson: I’m dimly aware that Dionne Bromfield is, like, 14 or something? Alarming, in the context of a voice so cynical-sounding and perfectly pitched for this summery naiivete/confident accusation switchup track- her sneer is totally visible, the faux-gullibility of the verses as patronising as the chorus is comfortably self-assured. Fourteen? Surely that must be a mis-remembered thought.
[8]

Zach Lyon: I’m not saying a 15-year-old has to write songs that only a 15-year-old can sing, or that she shouldn’t sound 34, but I’m just creeped out now. And I was gonna mention how creepy it is having the much-older Diggy Simmons play the cheating guy, but nope, he’s 16. And Russell Simmons’ son. What the fuck.
[3]

Alfred Soto: Precocious, ain’t she? I’m not surprised she sounds as convincing as the swooping background vocals.
[7]

Martin Skidmore: The retro Motownish sound is similar to that of her godmother and label boss, Amy Winehouse, but I like her voice more – her slightly croaky, high tones remind me a little of Little Esther Phillips, though she isn’t as great as that. This is quite enjoyable, but perhaps not punchy enough to make much impact.
[7]

Jonathan Bogart: It’s kind of adorable that early-90s house, like power pop, hardcore punk, Stax-y soul, and britpop, has become one of those evergreen styles that new artists are always tackling with both reverence and the slightest of “modern” updates. Just not sure why it insists on being heard as any less of a niche than the other revivalists.
[5]

Michaelangelo Matos: Not just throwback R&B: rap break aside, this lands square in the place R&B was around 1973-74, as its corners were turning soft as the music began immersing itself in the disco. Or given the track’s national origins, maybe we should use Brit-DJ terms: think when Northern Soul began to move into disco. That’s probably more like it anyway, since the “soul” it’s moving away from is bound to the Motown model rather than the Philly model that was prevalent then (and closer to disco by a length anyway); there’s something closer to that effect about “Yeah Right.” Its back-then equivalent used to go for a quarter and has now been elevated substantially in price by latter-day snobs who first learned the thing existed thanks to a favorable mention in one of the Top 10 lists in Vince Aletti’s column collection The Disco Files 1973-78.
[7]

Jer Fairall: A nicely modulated and uncommonly restrained merger of retro-soul sweep and pristine early-90s electronic chill, tonally disciplined to the point that even the rap verse snaps into place with remarkable ease, never so aggressive that it feels like anything other than part of the song’s narrative. If there’s a flaw, it may be that the singer’s fine performance is the least interesting thing about the song; not at all an obstacle to enjoying it, but rather a center so smoothly competent that it momentarily distracts from the real gems of the production.
[7]