On va s’amuser…

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[6.40]

Dave Moore: A bit of Francophone fun with plinky-dink turn-of-the-century dance-pop synths and “Mambo No. 5” horns. But what to call it…Jacques Jams?
[7]

Martin Skidmore: So at the age of 49 (same as me) one of my favourite singers has added the “Cheb” (“young man” or “young star”) back to his name. I don’t think I’ll try that. Anyway, I like Magic System’s bouncy, modern Afropop, but Khaled is best writhing sinuously over his familiar Algerian rai synth rhythms (his album Hada Raykoum is magnificent) rather than trying to be poppy and happy. This is enjoyable and playful, bright and dancey, but it mostly wastes a glorious voice.
[7]

Hazel Robinson : This would be so, so much better without the occasional, interruptive talky bits, which just sound like someone’s accidentally faded up a mic in the recording studio and don’t seem to gel with the rest of the song very well. On the other hand, the rest of it is a joyful outburst of electro crossculturalism, completely warm and likeable.
[6]

Erick Bieritz: African music that tries to incorporate North American-style rapping frequently struggles to combine the disparate vocal rhythms and beats-per-minute, but the sing-song cadences of reggae gel more readily. Case in point: “Même Pas Fatigué.” One of the biggest groups in the Ivory Coast-based zouglou scene, Magic System’s lush, frantic rampancy could sit comfortably in a DJ crate between reggaeton and socca records, West Africa postmarks not withstanding.
[6]

Hillary Brown: Embarrassing without containing the joy that sometimes makes up for blushing on behalf of the artists.
[4]

Tom Ewing: I’m too much of a tourist to even name the genre here, but something these polyglot post-hip-hop musics tend to do well, and Magic System is no exception, is create vocal babble. Behind Cheb Khaled’s star turn are chanters, whoopers, callers, responders, shouter-outers, cutter-uppers, Shaggy imitators, Nutty Boys and machine elves. Quite a party that, one even the unimaginative, dirt-cheap beats can’t spoil.
[6]

Alex Ostroff: The repetitive melody that dominates both the verses and the chorus is enough of an earworm that it never wears out its welcome. Echoing spoken word bits enhance the club feel, while Khaled melismas nicely to add a bit of colour without ever overpowering the groove. Magic System don’t push or challenge their listener like Buraka Som Sistema would, but the chorus demands that since we are not yet tired, we must dance all night, and I am more than happy to oblige.
[7]

David Raposa: There aren’t enough hours left between first hearing this track & the blurbs going live to do the research necessary for me to hold court on this song & not come off like Kenny Powers’ more ignorant (yet better coiffed) cousin. So I’ll just say that this multicultural melange sounds pretty great (though there’s a slight hint of gimmick in the tune that prevents me from really feeling it), and on the off chance that it somehow achieves Macarena-like ubiquity on these shores, I shall welcome our non-English-speaking overlords with open arms and unsalted freedom fries.
[7]

Doug Robertson: This would probably sound amazing if you’re on some golden, summery beach, holding a bottle of beer which, for reasons that have never been adequately explained, has a piece of citrus fruit stuck in the neck, while dancing barefoot, caring not for the burnt sole that such a reckless act is going to cause in the morning. Unfortunately I’m sitting in a flat in Edinburgh, looking out the window at the grey, foggy skies that apparently count as ‘Spring’ these days, so to me it just sounds like someone else’s party to which I‘ve not received an invite. Still, at least they’re having fun.
[6]

Martin Kavka: For three minutes, I think that if this raï-pop hybrid is among the possible results of French colonialism, then colonialism can’t be all bad. It is only my guilt at saying something so baldly unethical that keeps me from giving this a 10.
[8]