The Singles Jukebox

And here’s the Australian dance music song we like…

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Jer Fairall: For an act that calls itself Sneaky Sound System, there’s very little trickery going on here, opting for a perfectly straightforward bit of dance pop over even the vaguest hint of quirk. They deliver adequate sounds though, even if the bulk of them are reserved for that swoony, euphoric chorus, leaving little for the disappointingly tepid verses, which never manage to take us all the way to whatever high the singer has found herself on in this track’s all-too-brief best moments. 
[5]

Jonathan Bradley: Sneaky Sound System has always seemed a better idea on paper than in execution: Synth-populism with an at least potentially charismatic frontwoman and a predilection for big, obvious hooks. Their singles to date, however, have tended toward garishness without the emotional heft to compensate, and I thought Connie Mitchell’s biggest contribution to pop music would end up being her “woah”s on Kanye West’s “Can’t Tell Me Nothing.” “Big” is their first single that really works, and I’m tempted to overrate it on that basis: the chorus is yearning and the production is bold but restrained, and it all coalesces rather nicely. It’s too thin in inspiration to provide thrills that work on anything more than a transient basis, but it’s nonetheless an enjoyable listen, and, I hope, one that signifies the start of, well… something big.   
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Edward Okulicz: When I said their last single was missing that huge chorus some of their earlier singles had boasted, I wasn’t expecting this one to sport a chorus so massive it could have powered two underwhelming singles to greatness and answer pretty much every one of my other reservations. Musically, it’s no less basic than previous songs by them but it simply does everything better: each part (verse, chorus, middle-eight) is melodically strong, lyrically effective, and, overall its sheen capitalises on Connie Mitchell’s impressive pipes much more than the low-key and silly “We Love” ever did. As large as its title promises, its premise — a love so enormous it might be overwhelming — is matched by the song in every way. In fact, this is easily the best thing they’ve ever done and makes me excited to hear the album.
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Katherine St Asaph: “Hang With Me” synths flood in at full gush from the start, every beat snaps with confidence, and Connie sings: “This is the moment you’ve been waiting for.” Her voice unfurls with the gust of five wind machines, and the sound makes way for the strings that mirror the melody. You’ve heard this before, always with the same implications. Moments happen or don’t; all we can do is wait for them to hurtle us into cavernous song. Life doesn’t work this way, though, and “Big” is nothing if not a paean to free will, to the moments where we decide further moments are possible. “I won’t forget the time you told me we could be something — the memory is mine,” says Connie, claiming her revelation. Later comes “you would volunteer to understand,” turning human connection into conscious charity. It’s not blind optimism — whatever happens next could be too much and will end, Connie admits — but it’s optimism nevertheless, where human-sized people can make themselves into 70-foot silhouettes just by picking a spot to stand and summoning the right light. That this sentiment comes from the group whose last single was a lengthy dick joke only proves their point.
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Iain Mew: It would be easy to fall into describing this as big, but aside from the lyrical grand gestures of its chorus aside it’s actually refreshingly small in its charms. A fine slithering synth line, Connie Mitchell gently emoting, and a confidence not to let too much else get in the way.
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Brad Shoup: This thing is exhausting. It’s like a road movie, or A Star Is Born: a two-ham pact with the big city on the horizon. My favorite moment in this low-rent disco tune is when Connie sings “you would volunteer to understand me,” converting connection from innate to obligatory, but somehow keeping the act sweet. The more I listen, the weirder this song gets.
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Jonathan Bogart: This is glorious. I’m sorry for doubting you, Australia.
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