The Singles Jukebox

We serve the blurbs…

[Video][Website]
[5.50]

Alfred Soto: After Honest failed to move units and critics, he released several mix tapes of varying quality. I don’t hear many sonic differences between DS2 and Honest; what has changed is Future’s concentration. But “Where Ya At” lets Drake run away with the song, dropping “commissary” into a verse and outdoing Future in rancor.
[6]

Nina Lea Oishi: Future has really exploded in recent months, achieving critical success after the letdown of last August’s Honest with his Monster, Beast Mode, and 56 Nights mixtapes. But despite this fast-paced ascendance, his latest album, DS2, is darker, more emotionally turned inward. “Where Ya At” totally embodies this simmering mood, a searing indictment of the fake friends that come with fame: “Where ya ass was at when bitches didn’t need me?” Drake was a great choice for a guest verse, a melodic rapper with a similarly large chip in his shoulder. I listened to this track several times before I started writing my blurb, and by the second listen the “Where ya at” refrain had already become a hypnotically compelling refrain, seething with betrayal.
[7]

Micha Cavaseno: This song is one of the worst entries on DS2, but we’re reviewing it because its got Drake. As you can see, Future is doing his drugged out turn up pandering bullshit so half-heartedly, that even this Toronto Sloth is outperforming him. Beat is terrible, flows are useless; please listen to “Blood On The Money” or “The Percocet & Stripper Joint” if you want to hear Future do what he’s truly capable of. Fuck Nayvadius for giving into people making the lowest common denominator, and fuck them too for dragging down one of the most talented rappers in America for satisfying their need for #TommyTurnUp bullshit.
[1]

Ramzi Awn: Future surprises with the new single, going back to basics and textbooks, and also manages to break the mold. The beat is sparse, the rhythm raw — and his restraint in fact allows him more freedom. A welcome retreat.
[6]

Thomas Inskeep: I’ve traditionally found Future’s vocal affectations obnoxious, but in this instance they beautifully match the wooziness of Metro Boomin’s production, which sounds like it was made underwater. This is the epitome of hypnotic.
[6]

Jonathan Bradley: Future is chemtrails on a blue sky. Future is electromagnetic radiation pouring out of a distant quasar. Future is a will-o’-the-wisp fluorescing deep in the woods late at night. Unearthly and beautiful, he doesn’t so much speak as he trickles or glimmers: his voice does what liquid does, or photons maybe. Drake, by contrast, raps, and his words tread dazedly through the murk. Where ya at, Drake? Where ya ass was at?
[7]