The Singles Jukebox

We put on our biohazard suits and our dancing shoes.

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[5.86]

Alfred Soto: Far from apocalyptic and not danceable.
[4]

Anthony Easton: I do not understand any of the future rhetorical questions posed by the robot voice at the end of the track. For all of the science fiction tropes that Monáe plays with, that little coda is one that picks up on the isolation of Afro-Futurism with some manic skill. The rest plays down her skills as a kind of introduction, or variation on theme. 
[7]

Ramzi Awn: In a tailored four minutes, “Dance Apocalyptic” wins you over quickly and makes the most of Monáe.  It could easily tank, but the sheer kook value pulls in just enough “Love Shack,” dynabass, and Chevy Chase vibraphones to save the day.  The result is giddy, warm and genuine, a welcome treat for any act so stylized as Monáe.
[7]

Daisy Le Merrer: When the zombies take over Janelle Monáe’s world, they’ll gently ask if they please can eat your brain, and then they’ll eat just a small part you don’t use anyway and politely offer you a bite. All that to say, when Britney is a more believable harbringer of the apocalypse than you, there’s something wrong with your song. Don’t get me wrong; the song is really good, but lyrics about how everybody loves to picnic (even zombies!) would have been more suited to this arrangement.
[8]

Brad Shoup: Part young-Mike-Jackson tribute, part unholy twee/zolo hybrid. My initial reaction was to quell the urge to buy an iPod Nano, but that urge is fading.
[7]

Edward Okulicz: “Smash, smash, bang, bang,” Monáe chants, and never before has the onomatopoeia of the word “bang” sounded more like a soft landing than a collision. It’s likeable but the urgency to make me move isn’t there. The robot spoken bits at the end are bizarre, but at least fit the theme. Yet as far as dancing on the verge of disaster goes, this is no “Atomic.”
[5]

Will Adams: The word “apocalyptic” has no business being that close to what amounts to a show tune.
[3]