The Singles Jukebox

Not a spoiler to say that it’s the highest score of the day…

[Video][Website]
[6.40]

Ian Mathers: I’m on record both as lauding Hot Chip’s recent turn to the more openly emotional and comparing the arc of their work to New Order’s. But if a song like “Don’t Deny Your Heart” only confirms the former claim (and like most of In Our Heads, shows that it’s a good look for them), it confounds the latter; I’m not sure Barney and co. ever made dance music this straightforward before being remixed. It’s also nice to see that they continue to use steel drums well, but really everything you need to know about the joy in this song is there in the title. Plus, you know, “this is what football’s all about!”
[9]

Patrick St. Michel: There isn’t anything particularly deep going on here — Hot Chip moved away from their smartass ways a long time ago, and “Don’t Deny Your Heart” chooses straightforwardness over cleverness (well, for the song… the video is on a whole different trip) — but the Erasure-bounce present here is catchy all on its own. Hot Chip do still know how to write a simple-but-memorable chorus.
[7]

Iain Mew: Hot Chip’s trio of hit singles — the deadpan groove of “Over and Over”, the ghost soul of “Boy From School” and “Ready for the Floor” at their midpoint — so perfectly encapsulated what they could do that they kind of painted themselves into a corner. The albums since have gone in other fruitful directions but the singles have felt like they have nowhere to go other than increasingly refined versions of the same ideas with diminishing returns. So “Don’t Deny Your Heart” is warm and bright and does some neat things with grunted interruptions, but even though I got the album when it came out the song has made little enough impression previously that it has instantly become the soundtrack to Hot Chip Football to me.
[6]

Alfred Soto: On their best album since 2006, Hot Chip remember that archness and buoyancy aren’t mutually exclusive when beats are sutures. Here the moment of bliss unfurls at the 1:50 when the rhythm licks and sequencer are as on the one as a Paradise Garage mix in 1981. Unfair of me, however, to wish Jessie Ware had swatted Alexis Taylor aside to make a go of it herself. 
[7]

Jonathan Bogart: In another year, perhaps, one that wasn’t filled to choking with wistful indie dance (most of it with much stronger vocals than get aired here) — or in an alternate timeline where fell in love with Hot Chip when they debuted and followed them eagerly ever since — I might have fallen for the low-key charms here. As it is, I only nod sympathetically and forget it the moment it’s stopped playing.
[6]

Brad Shoup: So many interlocking parts here: the McCartney II first verse, the proto-house pre-chorus, then back to Macca as played by Matthew Wilder, a Quincy-nicking riff, then a tonally-jacked second verse (“we take fun seriously,” they sing, ponderous decay driving the point). There’s more, but I’ll spare you. We’re ushered so quickly and earnestly from point to point, it feels like the Stations of the Club. I’m certainly flattered by the lengths to which they’ve gone to please me.
[8]

Katherine St Asaph: Two songs cannibalize one another, grunting and grappling for focus. The first is chilled-steel synthpop, with understated vocals, synths that shake themselves into euphoria and a piano for gravitas: 80s retro done right. The second is a saccharine, weedy-voiced, chipper fucker that can’t decide on a key, let alone a cohesive melody. The best man does not win. 
[4]

Edward Okulicz: The up-side to being light and wimpy is occasional buoyancy.
[7]

Will Adams: Sparkles with all the gummy synths that an ’80s party jam should and has some abrupt, but welcome, key changes. Unfortunately, Alexis Taylor’s voice is an acquired taste that I still haven’t found fully palatable.
[6]

Josh Langhoff: It’s like the melody wants to focus, to coalesce into galvanizing hooks, but instead it gets distracted by all the interlocking composite-rhythm drum circle stuff around it — not to mention the guitarist who keeps breaking out “Don’t Stop ‘Til You Get Enough.” So maybe it’s a sonic metaphor for the Occupy movement? More like, if a jam band went electropop.
[4]