Swedish wunderkind makes dent in UK top 40…
Colin Cooper: Public confidence in the ethical principles of the reigning Labour government hit an unexpected and all-time high this morning when it emerged Home Secretary Jacqui Smith paid for the new Tommy Sparks single on expenses. Batting away journalists with an actual bat on her way into the Commons this morning, she was heard muttering something about “the campest thing ever” and a “really good synth-line in the chorus”. The sort of synth-line you’d want to detain for further questioning, apropos of nothing. Smith was later seen introducing a bill that would force record companies to log all music made on an enormous national database, in case it contained references to, well, anything that didn’t fit into her extremely narrow view of what is Good and Correct; with full exemption only for records made by Swedish pop/dance newby Tommy Sparks. It is still unclear whether she was rhythmically tapping her foot while reading the bill, or repeatedly crushing the head of a stray vole under her (likely reinforced) Dr. Martens.
Alfred Soto: When defending Justin Timberlake in 2002, I fought people who imagined he sounded like this.
Dave Moore: Damn you, wonky pop! Must admit that this particular insufferable goober has written an extremely foot-tappable chtune, even if he did just steal it from “Love Rollercoaster.”
Chuck Eddy: No relation to Jordin, I assume. Either way, somebody linked to this from an ILM thread on the “worst songs of the year” a month or two ago. But it didn’t belong there — thanks to forward motion provided by that swinging Chic bassline, if nothing else. I don’t mind the glitter swish of Tommy Notune’s singing either. Though there’s ultimately something thin about the music here — maybe because Tommy doesn’t flounce quite enough? (Or maybe I’d like it worse if he did, who knows.) It’s considered the same (fake) genre as Alphabeat, right? And the two ’08 singles I heard by those people (one of which made my top ten) were way better than this. But (strawman alert!) anybody who claims this song is too “ironic” to qualify as true pop music should be sure to explain where they hear irony — because I don’t, particularly. (Yeah, sure, you see it in the video. So don’t watch!)
David Raposa: A song this crass and tacky was made for the early-MTV / public-access video ministrations of Eric Wareheim, though I’d recommend listening to this song apart from the video first (for various reasons that don’t include laser-shooting man-tits). I’m almost convinced that this song is actually great, even accounting for the woefully blatant Ohio Players rip, but I just can’t get past this tune’s extra-thick cheesiness. It’s aural Blingee, and it’s giving my ears a seizure.
Ulrik Nørgaard: Tommy Sparks has sold his Swedish soul to the Devil of Pop. This has provided him with an unholy, sticky mixture of French Touch production, a piercing British Invasion vocal, and the ability to pull off shiny, silver pants. I felt certain that I’d hate this after repeated listening – the intial sugar rush had to wear off. That hasn’t happened. Tommy is going straight to hell.
Tom Ewing: The chorus of this is something Calvin Harris might reject as a bit basic, Sparks himself is a prize nincompoop and the whole package sounds specifically written for a midweek lottery draw show. All in all, I feel absolutely confident it will be a hit.
Iain Mew: Like “Don’t Upset the Rhythm” with an added veneer of matey overfamiliarity. Not a good thing.
Hillary Brown: 
Michaelangelo Matos: 
Martin Skidmore: 
Andrew Unterberger: