Well, according to Wikipedia, he crafts “jet-propelled bangers.” Who do YOU trust?…
Katherine St Asaph: In my ongoing quest to employ myself, lest I go broke then stir-crazy then rancid beneath the Triborough Bridge, I took a contract gig with this lifestyle startup. I’m not sure exactly what they do, or whether they know. The phrases “commercial storytelling,” “curating experiences” and “EDM” came up. My job, it seems, consists primarily of flipping house presets like burgers while well-heeled actors scurry about an air-conditioned outdoor mall, as if re-enacting an interstitial montage. The pianos sound like jingles, the breakdown like a Black Friday rush. My boss asked me to throw my hands up, but I think I’d want a bonus for that.
Alfred Soto: The five-dollar techno comps I bought in the nineties boasted at least one track like this.
Mallory O’Donnell: As far as music to pick out a new handbag by goes, this is on the better side of decent. I just hope that when this style finally disappears from the map again that the many, actually good things that sound akin to it don’t sound ashen to our ears, so freshly fatigued.
Anthony Easton: A friend’s kid brother went to this electronic music festival somewhere in the BC interior last weekend and talked about how much fun it was, and how much dubstep there was. I told him that I mostly liked house these days, and wanted a revival. I was thinking about this after that chat, and this really could be considered both: a little bleached out, and a tiny bit extended, but pleasant.
Jonathan Bogart: The video is just a bunch of Final Cut Pro effects slathered on way too many poorly-composed frames, and it’s still more formally inventive and intriguing in its use of texture and collage than the track. Baby Sol and Lottie Tricity are better singers than this allows them to be, and I’d like to hear more from them than the same three clips looped over and over again.
Will Adams: The disembodied vocal is lost in your love, but the track is lost, period. It’s not sure where to go, so it stomps in place, hoping that a piano loop and a kick drum are enough to attract any wayward dancer. It does for a good minute and a half, until the dancer realizes there’s not much else going on.
Brad Shoup: Wow, this is ass.