The Singles Jukebox

No prize to whomever tallies up their total Jukebox appearances to date…

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[6.25]

Jonathan Bradley: Ke$ha donates a beat to a posse cut, and four Names come like it’s a third Khaled single. Wiz Khalifa demands, as he so often does, that you look at your iTunes to work out who exactly it is rapping right now; Three Stacks turns in yet another verse demonstrating that he hasn’t actually been withholding anything worthwhile from us over the past few years of his semi-retirement; T.I. talks about a “royal penis cleaner”; and Wayne sounds less awful than he did on Tha Carter IV. Bass knocks, though.
[4]

Jonathan Bogart: There are two ways to take this. One is to dismiss it as a really unnecessary Ke$ha release, considering that its two previous releases had her own better-than-Kreayshawn-anyway rapping about realer things than any of these dudes attempt; and the other is to enjoy it as a goof-off posse cut with a more unexpected hook and better verses than “Swagga Like Us.” Bangladesh’s beat is as stripped-down and banging as any he’s produced for a Real Rapper (including “Bossy,” “A Milli,” and “6 Foot 7 Foot”), and no doubt it would take more anti-pop snobbery than Weezy, Wizzy, Tizzy, or Three Stacks have ever shown to resist it. So, fun divided by unnecessariness equals:
[5]

Michelle Myers: Three of my favorite rappers and Wiz Khalifa manage to ruin one of my favorite songs with some aesthetically pleasing, acrobatic rapping. All four verses are technically good, but the best thing about “Sleazy” was its thematic content — that bad chicks can’t be bought and flashy rich guys suck. Her recession-chic swag is reduced to a beat-induced orgasm and a now non-sequitur chorus.
[3]

Zach Lyon: The remix for I Am The Dance Commander has long been one of her best songs, and it’s long sucked that it was never released as a single. This is one remix too far. The heft and wit of Andre’s verse sounds so out of place now, aside from just a little thematically out of place before; now it just sounds like he got off at the completely wrong stop. I can’t tell if everyone else missing the point of the hook is intentional or not, and I really don’t care. This isn’t a Ke$ha song anymore, and none of them even try to claim it for their own. 
[5]

Pete Baran: Bearing in mind that if anyone could do a song called “Sleazy,” it’s Ke$ha, it’s surprising how respectable her bits of the song are. Indeed, she manages to collect four very good guest raps around a theme that J. Lo would be acquainted with, rather than sleaze. The track fizzes with a muscularity that means that whilst she is surrounded by four stars, it is clearly her song. Its only failing is that it just isn’t sleazy enough.
[8]

Anthony Easton: I continue to be confused that people who are not only very wealthy, but come from second-generation wealth, continue to claim to be working class. The rejection of the bourgeois here moves a little past slumming — not very far past slumming, but aware enough of the sexual pleasure of music over money. This means something.
[7]

Brad Shoup: I don’t know if it’s respect or deference or a fear of coming off like the dudes in the original, but every guest sounds like he had at least a passing knowledge of the source material. Hell, she kept Ben Folds more or less on good behavior, so maybe game recognizes game. Regardless, the crew on this remix go harder than you’d think the situation warranted. After T.I.’s verse comes the part of 1.0 I craved: the bit that sounds like Christmas. This thing might’ve fallen off the rhythmic axis otherwise.
[8]

Alfred Soto: The squishy, squelchy beat -– not out of place on a Timbo production circa 2003 -– is the duet partner Ke$ha’s been waiting for. If that’s not enough, a foursome of hip-hop catamites attend to her every wish, despite T.I. embarrassing the company with his depleted lyrical prowess (“royal penis cleaner” indeed). Wiz is in particularly good form. Let’s pause, though, to consider that Ke$ha equates sleaze with more rappers — or more men — and wonder who’s stooping to whose level.
[8]

Katherine St Asaph: This bugs me, but I can’t decide how: the fact that to Ke$ha, “sleazier” equals “more hip-hop”; the way this so blatantly hurls itself at Wayne, Wiz and Tip stans’ Google Alerts with none of their verses quite matching the effort; the realization that Katy Perry’s probably going to rip this off soon with a remix to the remix of some perpetually No. 2 song; the original being phenomenal before the meddling.
[6]

Michaela Drapes: The transgressiveness of this is kind of mindboggling; outside of the obvious (it’s Ke$ha! and four nasty rappers!), this is also the first mainstream collaboration track in what seems like eons that isn’t overproduced to death. Scandalous! Everyone’s contributions seem so much tighter and sharp over the sinewy beat, even the often-unfocused Wiz Khalifa. Lots of hilarity here, for sure, but seriously, can we get more collabos from Keisha and Andre 6000?
[9]

Josh Langhoff: Can we talk about how grown-ass sexy André Benjamin sounds on his verse? He’s comfortably confident, palling around with Ke$ha while the others seem hellbent on impressing her, saying pretty much whatever he wants while still answering to his host. He’s dialed back his flow from the stylized, filigreed thing it’s been, what Adam Krims calls the “percussion-effusive” approach. (Think “I pray so much about it, I need some knee… PADS,” or basically his whole “Ms. Jackson” verse.) He’s virtuosic but conversational, kowtowing neither to his rhyme scheme (like his cohort) nor to his own performance tics. “I only say this in cadence so it don’t get negated”; he doesn’t have to be here, but he IS, and gloriously so. He reminds me of David Thewlis in Harry Potter, maybe, or Dennis Quaid in a Disney movie. He’s the only one on the track older than me; much as I enjoy Wiz’s ode to money and marijuana, T.I.’s ode to his penis, and Wayne’s ode to his copy of Entertainment Weekly, André is inspirational! I hope to rap like him someday.
[8]

John Seroff: Everything old is old again in this cypher refix of the inexplicably popular remix of one of the weaker cuts off Cannibal. Dre’s verse is no less depressing a year later, Wayne finally gets around to using that nonsensical “smoke that neon/Kings of Leon/Dynamite… Napoleon” hashtag rap he’s been saving for a throwaway gig, T.I.’s fairly sharp turn includes an offer to Ke$ha for a job as his “royal penis cleaner,” and the host of the party (thankfully) barely makes it off the chorus. Wiz acquits himself best of the bunch with a “Dirt Off Your Shoulder” paced verse but then wraps up with a long, unpleasant cackle. That’s as good a metaphor as “2.0” deserves: a brief moment of quality, bookended by the annoying.
[4]