Thursday, October 3rd, 2013

Moby ft. Wayne Coyne – The Perfect Life

Meanwhile, in irrelevance…


[Video]
[4.00]

Iain Mew: Wayne Coyne-as-guest-vocalist has contributed to a classic before, in The Chemical Brothers’ “The Golden Path”, but that took him out of his comfort zone. This takes him deeper into that zone than ever before, full of reedy sentimentality and with a feeble attempt to shock by undercutting the innocence with drug references. The results are endlessly boring.
[2]

David Turner: This sounds like a disgustingly huge pop song that didn’t find the memeified enough video to get it to that status. The chorus is so big that it already swallowed Ahab and Jonah and I’m pretty sure I’ve either heard it before or my DNA already formed it at some point in my 21 years on this planet. But this an awful chorus and video. Fuck you Eminem, we all listen to techno. Moby, go back and make some 91 Hardcore shit. But actually don’t do that, you just do you Moby, but just don’t do this song. 
[3]

Anthony Easton: Moby’s skill as an electronic musician is pretty strong, but his ability to contain his love for cheap sentiment has always failed. Coyne’s belief in the avant garde potential of the collective has never quite worked out, and he often constructs this instinct into the worst cheap tunes. But, the details about drugs pop the balloon, and that it sounds a bit like/cribs lyrics from Lou Reed’s paean to a floating narcotic high makes things a bit stranger, and perhaps more worthwhile. I like this better than it is. Minus a point for the chorus. 
[4]

Alfred Soto: The voices are gross. Moby sounds like a Capitol Hill staffer doing karaoke, Coyne like he’s auditioning for Train. I don’t give a damn about knives and perfect lives and solos.
[3]

Scott Mildenhall: In the end, nobody won. Nowadays Marshall, everybody in America listens to “techno”, but not so many to Moby. He should really look into sync deals to get his music out there, not least because this sounds like one of those cheapo, legally-different versions of songs advertisers use to cop out of paying the artist — in this case Primal Scream — whose work it resembles. Which is sort of (sort of) similar to what Moby did. Wayne Coyne, of course, barely audible on this (likely both literally and figuratively in a different room when the vocals were recorded) would never stoop to such tactics. The moral of the story: all music sounds like all other music, and this iteration of it is highly pleasant.
[7]

Brad Shoup: Dear, sweet Moby, with a winning warble and a ringing cribbed from the Millennium’s “To Claudia on Thursday”. Everything’s chill. Miles away from the gonzo outlying of “Feeling So Real”. Compare Nicole Zaray’s soundclash belting with the rote gospel feel deployed at the end. It’s a straight touch on what could’ve been an ironic celestial hymn in the “Ya Hey” mold. Instead, it feels like he’s serious. 
[5]

Reader average: [4] (1 vote)

Vote: 0   1   2   3   4   5   6   7   8   9   10

Comments are closed.