The Singles Jukebox

Michael takes us from IRL to URL with this Chinese internet collective…

[Video]
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Michael Hong: The last few years have been difficult for physical connection in China; it’s only logical that groups like the collective Shopping Mood and the four-piece BRAINFREEZE have formed from the Internet. Their debut EP attempts to crib the stylings of what they believe to be “hyperpop,” a term that has become a sort of catch-all in the country — as evidenced by “idol” artist Deng Dian, whose label, Sony Music China, cites hyperpop influences on one of his last projects, despite it being only a bit uptempo. But “Debut” is too clean to completely fall within the lineage of hyperpop. It’s pretty girl music, music you put on in the background as you shit-talk and sweet-talk with your friends on a Friday night. BRAINFREEZE points the swirling lyric “trust this dream” at one another as if in promise of connection, whether that’s physical or something more, and deepen it with a final tossed-out “baby, please don’t feel like you are useless.” Over pretty synths, each member is painted golden. Something’s endearing about their broken English; they reject outside voices, but the syrupiness of the song makes their middle-finger salutes lack any bite. And they tie themselves together with the promise of jumping off the roof, a sweet sentiment for how it’s so non-adventurous. A lot of my favourite songs this year — María José Llergo’s “Tencontrao,” Subsonic Eye’s “Yearning,” Leah Dou’s “Monday,” Pasocom Music Club & Mei Takahashi’s “Day After Day” — take a circular phrase, verse, melody, or even just a motif and twist it into a spiral. Llergo’s “look at me and tell me you love me” on its own is impactful, but it’s the repetition, the demand for reassurance, that feels like love. “Day After Day” reframes the circular movement of its undercurrent with one line, “but I realized / those small, boring moments / can also shine / so bright that it melts my heart,” as if regarding each passing flicker of the sun and moon with a contented sigh. I get a similar feeling from the hook of “Debut.” That pitch-shifted “trust this dream” is woven in a graceful circle, as if in realization that this is not a dream but reality, and also in understanding that there’s more beautiful work to come. It’s no accident that the music video for “Debut” starts with BRAINFREEZE in a physical embrace. The song is the corporeal manifestation of their digital bond, a helpless spiral into a deeper affection.
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Taylor Alatorre: The title of “DEBUT,” as well as the “trust this dream” refrain and the synthetic twee motifs, suggest a hopeful yet halting first step in the direction of new encounters. This perhaps explains why its most palpable signs of urgency and its willingness to risk offending the listener are shunted off to the final 30 seconds, by which point an ambivalent first impression has already been made. Never mind the dream for now — the song doesn’t seem to trust itself.
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John S. Quinn-Puerta: It’s frenetic without being completely overstuffed, stimulating if not a tad bit unintelligible. I think I trust it. Maybe.  
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Nortey Dowuona: I think it’s kinda telling all the lyrics are in English. They think we’re a damn lick. They’re right.
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Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: Exactly the kind of clumsy single that I’ll always be charmed by. All the voices, and all the ideas they’re clamoring to express, spill out of “Debut” with such a feverish glee that I can forgive the slight feeling that there’s about a minute too much song. It helps that the core vocals-and-synth hook is sturdy enough to withstand the chaos that gradually envelops the track.
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Joshua Minsoo Kim: A bit too Spotify Playlist-core for me, but any modishness on display is offset by how easy it all goes down.
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Ian Mathers: This is a lot more chill than I expected from a band called BRAINFREEZE: a perverse statement on multiple levels. Not least because I like the floatiest bits the best.
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Crystal Leww: BRAINFREEZE’s EP is like a sampler through what “hyperpop” has evolved into in the last 24 or so months, in sometimes horrifying ways, but “Debut” gets it right by letting the girls set the tone so that the boys can be soft and pretty, too. I want to bury myself in the chest of the “get away, get away, get away…”, which seems to drift off into a tucked-away dimension. By the time that the track snaps into something more harsh in the final section, I’m already in the clouds.
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Will Adams: It’s got that Porter Robinson vibe: hyperpop swaddled in gauze and delivered with a face-holding-back-tears-emoji smile. “Debut” is pretty to listen to, ephemeral once it ends.
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Katherine St Asaph: Finally, hyperpop gets its own Owl City.
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Micha Cavaseno: Listening to stuff like this makes me think that PM Dawn were perhaps too many decades too early (and too many levels un-Good) to be able to achieve their dreams. “Debut” is a perfect slight of disposable sugarfeather. I couldn’t tell you what any of the vocalists do or try that’s worth mentioning, and the production is a nice crochet of nostalgic pastels that isn’t strong enough to support the weight of scrutiny. Oh well, perhaps next time!
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