How will we know if she’s really the next [FILL IN THE BLANK]?
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[6.10]
Katherine St Asaph: The pop music press is broken in many ways; one trivial example: it is not currently laboring to find and champion the next “Call Me Maybe.” Luckily, the industry seems to be doing so — albeit, in this case, getting there by way of finding the next Rita Ora — and Magalie’s debut single adds to the mix a rubbery Robyn synth, thwacking percussion and a generous portion of “How Will I Know.” The chorus takes a while to find its rhythm, and a few notes are overly breathless, but the song’s called “First Kiss”; no one expects perfection the first go-round.
[7]
Brad Shoup: I’m not really enjoying this new age of Carly Rae Jepsen only getting mentioned in the context of telling people that Carly Rae Jepsen’s album was underrated, y’all. “First Kiss” shimmers over a pneumatic drum machine; Magalie navigates it like a suggested route. “The boy next door” is a porn character, then he’s an angel, then he’s just a boy.
[9]
Patrick St. Michel: Does something that sounds so squiggly and bright but indebted to all sorts of artists from the (in some cases, not-so-distant) past really need to exist in 2014? Magalie’s first single overflows with synth buzzs and a follow-the-bouncing-ball beat, and she’s great at making her voice reflect the implied rush the titular action has on her. It is a totally serviceable pop song… but one that sounds like all sorts of other numbers already in existent. It’s nice, but it also sorta just makes me want to listen to Whitney Houston.
[5]
Anthony Easton: More Katy Perry than ye-ye, it makes one wonder if the homogenizing quality of the American empire has reached the aesthetics of innocent but seeking experience pop songs, which used to have an individual, separate national character.
[7]
Alfred Soto: When it keeps threatening to turn into “How Will I Know” the synth gurgles rein it in, which is a pity.
[5]
Thomas Inskeep: Like Robyn covering Whitney in a post-Miley world.
[6]
David Sheffieck: The subject matter is well suited for a Radio Disney hit, but the production kneecaps Magalie here: as “First Kiss” progresses, it seems to become weighed down just when it should be achieving escape velocity. This is all lower-register, claustrophobic synth pulses, the kind that compete with Magalie’s voice rather than complementing it. It’s a bizarre and unfortunate misstep for a song that could be much stronger if given a treatment that better suited its themes and hooks.
[4]
Scott Mildenhall: There’s nothing wrong with repetition, but to put things one way, Magalie is no Paul Johnson. The more central you make a title line, the more its scansion and delivery matter. In this instance the words jab repeatedly like a poke in a side, with Magalie’s accents in the worst places – “gave me MY FIRST kiss” – to make the timing as unpredictable as possible, even as she keeps doing it. It’s the bit of the egg the curate would smuggle into the bin.
[4]
Will Adams: My first kiss was at fourteen, a little after 8pm, outside her dormitory. I quickly walked back to mine and couldn’t stop smiling. There was also a nervous energy coursing through my body. We chatted over Facebook later that night, and I asked her if I was an okay kisser, because I knew that she had kissed guys before, and I needed validation. I held my breath waiting for her response, beginning to shiver at the notion of how weird it was for me to be asking her such a thing. Magalie’s “First Kiss” feels a lot like mine; the drums punch through with power while the ethereal pad seems beamed in from heaven. But it also has that awkwardness, that second-guessing, the way she flits in between voices and gives the spotlight to “the boy next door,” a hook that adds extra lyrical baggage. The difficult intersection of nostalgia and embarrassment has rarely been so accurately portrayed.
[7]
Megan Harrington: It’s Cuffing Season! The phenomenon dreamed up by teens looking to lock down their Homecoming dates is settling in for the big chill. This year’s anthem? “First Kiss” — chaste enough to keep your parents placid but dirty enough to catch that cutie’s attention if you tweet the lyrics during pre-calc.
[7]