The Singles Jukebox

We say goodbye to the weekend with a guy who said goodbye to Vampire Weekend.

[Video][Website]
[4.78]

Brad Shoup: Imagine some purple-lit dance club, oblivious to the wasted guy blubbering on the mezzanine. I dunno if I can help him, but I want to hear this out.
[8]

Juana Giaimo: If “Woods” showed Rostam’s ability to create a harmonious enviroment in a song, “Gravity Don’t Pull Me” shows the opposite. He has little control over his voice and prefers to sing in a slow-motioned style that is boring. It always feels like something is about to happen, but that thing never arrives. 
[5]

Cassy Gress: The synths arpeggiate furiously and that damn Casio drumbeat dinks along.  I can barely listen to him sing this though, because it’s not just that he’s mumbling the whole thing, he’s singing it as if the whole song is a setup for a punchline! The corners of his mouth are pulled up, as if he’s smiling, and his voice rises in so many phrases like “eh? eh? hilarious right?” This while he’s singing about breaking a boy’s heart! Maybe I’m just missing something, but this is too contextually dissonant for me. I guess it could be worse — this same weak vocal could be meandering over acoustic guitar.
[2]

Micha Cavaseno: It’s the singing quite frankly before anything. Rostam’s not one to really spit the song out, instead it’s dribbling out his mouth like he’s muttering and stumbling. Great if you want to sell the unease and sense of disappointment, but really tedious to engage with especially on the introduction. Furthermore I’m amazed that a guy whose production everyone’s consistently praised sounds like… well, every other obnoxious electronic/indie singer-songwriter XL is shoving out to fill the gaps between Adele releases. Gotcha some trap-hi-hats, some synth washes and not a lot of reasons WHY this was put out.
[3]

Patrick St. Michel: Remember Discovery? It was Rostam Batmanglij’s project with Wes Miles of Ra Ra Riot, and resulted in a hit-or-miss collection of electro-pop. “Gravity Don’t Pull Me” opens with an arpeggio right from that period, but the sugary rush of those days gets replaced with something far more constricting, at times feeling like all the oxygen has rushed out of the room. A lot of that comes as a result of Batmanglij’s singing, hushed and rough but also raw. “Gravity” is at its best when its just that voice being smothered by those synthesizers — the beat ultimately detracts — and the pain at the center of this song gushes out.
[6]

Iain Mew: I love Vampire Weekend, but I’m not really into their ballads. However, hearing one emerge from an electro-wallow cocoon before getting swallowed by vworps gives its delicacy an enjoyable new quality.
[7]

Alfred Soto: Vampire Weekend’s most crucial member puts his fragile harmonies and sound sculpting talents through the solo paces; the results are wan vocals even more tentative than Jerry Harrison’s and electronics you can get anywhere these days. Ezra Koenig would have inhabited the gay romance at its center. Yet I understand his aesthetic: the synthesized shimmers, as thin and delicate as colored wrapping paper, are beautiful in themselves. As a prism through which to hold memory and desire it’s effective.
[5]

Jer Fairall: For everything that was infuriating about Vampire Weekend, the haters at least had the band’s frequent tunefulness to contend with, something that “Gravity Don’t Pull Me” conveniently renders a non-issue. There’s not a thing here to latch on to — not the formless arrangement, not the crushingly banal lyric, and certainly not Rostam’s wretched, plaintive vocal style. 
[2]

Leonel Manzanares de la Rosa: The speedy, sprawling synth is magnificent, but sometimes it feels disconnected from the song it tries to lead. And i know it’s meant to sound shuffling and disjointed, but this is no Jai Paul. Still, we get a really nice chorus with the Trap hats and Rostam’s heartsick melody. 
[5]