The Singles Jukebox

She’s talking about either the Estonian or Botswanan flag, I think.

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[6.00]

Edward Okulicz: “Sounds like ‘Tragedy’ and ABBA,” they said, breathlessly. And for once, I’m not saying “If only!”
[8]

Katherine St Asaph: This is a gorgeous melody lost in a clattering, brickwalled headspace that doesn’t go the full “Livin’ on a Prayer” it threatens. But, see, the song’s about that! It’s deliberate! WHOA-OH! (That maybe wasn’t deliberate before, but it is now.)
[8]

Jamieson Cox: That dinky little synth line hiding in the back is hinting at better, grander songs (MGMT’s titanic duo of “Time to Pretend” and “Kids” came to mind, personally); unfortunately, this particular song slipped into the Vale of Mediocrity soon after play ceased. Like many other songs, it’s the aural equivalent of a barbershop gum ball: enjoyable while being actively experienced, but forgotten immediately after leaving my mouth/speakers.
[5]

Brad Shoup: She can’t put enough punched walls between her and that Soul Coughing/Real Tuesday Weld-style production. Once she gets to the pre-chorus, it’s on. Then it’s pop-rock of the baggy sort, like Rubber Soul-era Beatles as understood by Filter.
[7]

Pete Baran: What is Black and White and Blue all over? A track which is a bit of a slumpy comeback with pretty tattooed in through its core, but no boots (not even little ones) to stomp on you. Frankly forgettable.
[3]

Jer Fairall: The melancholy timbre of her voice cannot help but make her sounds a little less than enthralled with the bombastic leanings of her own chorus, but its surrounded by elements — a crisp production, some untamed synth bloops, a ringing Edge-like guitar — that I could happily listen to isolation for at least the length of this song. Trapping them all within a big, shiny pop song almost feels too generous.
[8]

John Seroff: Quirky indie rock should really have some quirks to it right? Otherwise there’s not much to discuss.
[5]

Sabina Tang: I adored and still adore “Magic”, but for some reason I just can’t with any other Ladyhawke song — not a single one. I want to like her work, but no matter what style she adopts, some quality inherent in the tune sets off all my boredom sensors. My sense of honour would usually keep me from blurbing an artist when I know a perceptual blind spot is at work, but I have an overwhelming need to express my inner feelings today. 
[3]

Michaela Drapes: I guess all signs were pointing to Ladyhawke growing up to be the B-movie Goldfrapp; I just didn’t see them until this Roxy-Music-by-way-of-Placebo smooth glam number. Pleasant, but disappointingly unremarkable — it could have been better, but instead just sort of drags along trying to be sparkling and fabulous, and never quite gets there.
[6]

Alfred Soto: “This is real life,” she reminds us over a cinder block arrangement of guitar, drums, and “Sister Ray” organ. Accepting the track’s histrionics without straining to match them, she avoids Goldfrappery and Portisheadgames. In short, the lack of affect becomes affecting.
[7]