Revisiting a top-10 darling from ALL THE WAY BACK IN 2010 (no, it’s not Javiera Mena again)…

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Scott Mildenhall: “Coma Cat” felt like an out-of-the-blue novelty when it made the periphery of the UK mainstream three years ago, and at that time a Nile Rodgers feature (or even just a writing credit) would have too. Some things change. Some stay the same. “Love Sublime” is two-thirds customary lightness, the only twist being Fiora sounding more encumbered by than enamoured with love. She’s the one taking care of the Serious Business, offering distinction that wasn’t really imperative but is distinction nonetheless.
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Brad Shoup: A splendid slice of throwback R&B-inflected pop — later than “Ladies Night,” but the vibe’s similar — terrible vocal editing and all. The refrain’s chords offer Fiora a fearsome ascent, but she’s content with hitting dress-rehearsal marks. Rodgers hits his, but I’m mostly pleased that a dull Daft Punk record lifted him out of the liner notes.
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Daniel Montesinos-Donaghy: The result of an optimistic pre-Christmas Facebook message from Marco Niemersky to Nile Rodgers — the former requested his hero’s services for a collaboration and received a reply 20 minutes later. As far as interconnected moments of wonder go, “Love Sublime” ranks somewhere in between the plot of You Got Mail and the Keyboard Cat meme. You may hear this a number of times in the coming months, so let me assure you: yes, I hear the vocal melody from Andre 3000’s “Vibrate” in the verses too. And yes, Rodgers is really about this Facebook life. Get him on Catfish as an expert already.
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Crystal Leww: 1) Tensnake is releasing a debut album four years after his breakout hit. That seems absurd given the fast-paced timeline that producers get churned out these days. It also creates crazy expectations for the quality of the debut. 2) Nile Rodgers is a legend, and these days he is at the point in his career that allows him to just show up and do some stuff over electronic music. 3) Fiora has a lovely voice, ready-made for dance floors. So why is this so middling? Why does the guitar sound so tinny? Why is it impossible for Fiora to get on a track that is truly worthy of her voice?
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Alfred Soto: At his coke-fueled peak Nile Rodgers’s machine-tooled guitar graced Thompson Twins and Sheena Easton records, so in a sense it’s a pleasure to hear workaday licks on a track this competent. But European deejays crank out tracks like this every ten minutes.
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Patrick St. Michel: If you’re going to trumpet the fact you have Nile Rodgers on your song, you should do everything in your power to make sure he comes through clearly. “Love Sublime” surrounds his guitar playing with so many whizzes and vocal tricks that everything gets muddled. Should have just sampled a Chic song.
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Katherine St Asaph: Cluttered if you really listen — great piano, good Nile, never quite in tandem — and missing its big sublime moment (the lyrics site I consulted busts out the caps: A LOVE SUBLIME, which, no, this is barely A Love Sublime) — but that’s criticky quibbling of an otherwise near-flawless cut.
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Anthony Easton: This is frustrating. It gets started working on such a fine lather, a pure electronic sparkle. Rodgers is at his most decorative, and his layers just compound the damage. But the perfect intro gets cut off its prime. This would have been a masterpiece at ten times the length. 
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Will Adams: Lately, this kind of ’80s throwback synthfunk (see: Classixx et al.) is about as easy to find as ’90s throwback house. “Love Sublime” rises above the rest thanks to all the collaborators pulling their weight. Tensnake’s instrumental pounds with enough thrust to move the early-hours crowd it’s designed for; Fiora’s stellar vocals have a nervous edge that adds dimension to the sunny lyrics; and, as overused as he’s quickly becoming, Nile Rodgers’ guitars add the necessary sparkle that helps “Love Sublime” match its title.
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Jessica Doyle: Child of the ’80s here, so my reaction was automatic: pretty soon had the volume turned up until this was all you could hear in my house. Eventually my husband came downstairs, frowning. (He’s not the greatest dancer, and prefers punk anyway. It’s kind of a love bizarre, him and me.) “You’re not going to play that all night long, are you?” he asked. “You said you wanted to get extra sleep tonight.” “Just one more play,” I said. “I’ll be up soon. I’ll be good.”
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Megan Harrington: This is a fluffy bit of nothingness, but so is all life. 
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