The Singles Jukebox

Conceptually, not much controversy.

[Video][Website]
[6.33]

Leonel Manzanares de la Rosa: That quasi-droning bass acts as a Totem; it anchors both the shifting tectonic synth layers and Jenny’s exploration of the female voice as alchemy. It reminds us that, indeed, everything is operating within’ the same dimension. No matter that she’s meditating on the eternal, she remains stuck in her erotic self-oscillation. However, the bridge gives us a Jenny Hval that’s partially achieving trasmutation: When she goes “I don’t know who I am, but…”, she is divorcing from the confines of her own voice and fusing with her sonic surroundings. But inmediately then, as the words “i’m working on it” re-engage with this reality, she returns to that state of Dukkha. “Conceptual Romance” is her most accesible single yet; it is also the most commited to its message. She might call it “Abstract romanticism”, but this is Jenny Hval at her most concrete. 
[8]

Katie Gill: Haunting and meandering, Hval lightly trills through this odd speak-singing, her lyrics more poetry slam than expected. The music is light and ethereal, I find it hard to describe this. Considering my exceedingly poptimist taste palette, I know I’m in prime territory to hate this. But there’s just something so relaxing about this that I find myself losing myself in the music the way Hval loses herself in her musings and her holding patterns.
[8]

Jonathan Bogart: The clockwork patterns and tidal synths owe a lot to forebears like Laurie Anderson, but the scalpel precision of her lyrics is missing. Instead I’m reminded most of EMA’s similarly foggy soundscapes and shaggily-edited musings.
[6]

Alfred Soto: Conceptual song. I admire its precision, though.
[5]

Thomas Inskeep: The problem with conceptual art is that it often just sits there. Like this song.
[3]

A.J. Cohn: There’s a small joke somewhere in that what sort of romance would an experimental singer-songwriter write a song about other than the conceptual. But if this song is heady, it’s full of heart too; it’s a tender, moving exploration of the interplay between conceptual and actual love, a carefully observed examination of a relationship and Hval’s place within it. Hval’s musings are beautifully complemented by her track, her voice floating, nearly suspended over shimmering, slowly building synths. But anyway: “But come with me, I want to show you something/The original holy origin of the world” is such a good come-on that how could this be any less than an [8].
[8]