Next week we’ll cover the new Linus Caldwell.

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Rebecca A. Gowns: I’ve always loved the category of “sensitive, frail boy writing songs and making music alone in his bedroom.” It’s a rich tradition that spans all the way from Paul Williams to Morrissey to James Blake — and it’s not an entirely easy niche to succeed in. You have to walk the line between narcissism and self-expression, between simple sounds and reaching too hard for the orchestral with your limited means. It’s a bonus if there’s an actual tune in there somewhere. Danny Ocean is a new contender here, fresh out of Venezuela, blossoming out of Soundcloud and into the Spotify charts (the most clearcut path to musical success in 2017). This song is good, but more than that, it shows promise. It’s plaintive in content, but it’s also a wink: “if I could do this by myself, you should see what I can do with a record deal.”
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Scott Mildenhall: Minimalist and capacious, this could run for a lot longer without becoming boring. It’s more of an atmosphere than a song, not overly melodic, and yet identifiably pop. If he can keep yearning for a few more months, the English version should become a hit too.
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Iain Mew: What seems like a party track with unusually sad pokes of synth turns itself inside-out in a process which would be more compelling if the beat didn’t turn it into “One Dance.” 
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Alfred Soto: An annoying hook, not helped by that synth horn/Farfisa/whatever. At least Danny Ocean has a sense of humor about his lust — this isn’t just another lonely weeknd.
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Juana Giaimo: Danny Ocean’s raspy vocals yearn for her former lover over the most monotonous computirized synths, proving once more that sentimental reggaeton is, most of the times, a really bad idea. 
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Will Adams: The fake-out ending got me; Danny Ocean’s ache had me yearning for him to keep on trading lines with that lonely, pinging hook, and he did. It’s the type of sad, synthy dancehall track Drake would have sullied, but Ocean’s plaints add some more depth to a deceptively minimal arrangement.
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