The Singles Jukebox

He’d like to come and meet us but he thinks he’d blow our minds…

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[5.73]

Katherine St Asaph: In 2011 a Weeknd/Daft Punk collaboration would suggest Reddit threw up all over some poor song’s credits. Now, it just suggests wish fulfillment: Daft Punk providing mild ’80s vibes and wish fulfillment for those in need of ZOMG, Cirkut providing the wish fulfillment of getting on radio and making starboy money, Doc McKinney — back co-producing after an album’s absence — providing wish fulfillment for those who bemoaned the selling out, and Abel providing the wish-fulfillment of every lyric he’s ever written, except more slight.
[6]

Alfred Soto: Call the Daft Punk credit a gesture of generosity for a favorite but an influence. The rest — oy. The programmed pitter-patter is supposed to forgive “I’m tryin’ to put you in the worst mood” and something about a “lame bitch” sung without a comma of irony.
[5]

William John: The Weeknd is still singing unpleasant things about women, drugs and cars, but on “Starboy” the vacuity is mollified by slick production and an endearing reference to the Mercedes Benz he purchased for his mother. Tesfaye’s hook is indecipherable yet irresistible, and for the first time in forever Daft Punk serve as sufficiently deft foils to a vocalist; the kicking drum in the second half of the chorus is almost enough to wipe away the regrettable, stilted pallor that haunted Random Access Memories.
[8]

Jonathan Bradley: As summer 2013 recedes into the past, “Get Lucky” seems increasingly underwhelming, and, that aside, there’s little evidence that Daft Punk has much facility with traditional pop song structures (“Something About Us” is an exception; “Instant Crush” is not.) Not to say someone couldn’t have created something engaging from the moody space-disco of “Starboy,” but that someone sure isn’t a mumbling Abel Tesfaye. Called upon to reenact the spotlit charisma of “I Can’t Feel My Face,” he instead returns to his comfort zone of lech nihilism — and promptly falls asleep there. 
[4]

Edward Okulicz: If not exactly overrated, Daft Punk get more slack, more benefit of the doubt than any hipster-friendly group going. Truth is they’re boring more often than not. This song is also boring more often than not. Yes, it is immaculate, but when The Weeknd tries to pinch emotion out of the line “look what you’ve done!” over those ha-ha-ha-ha-has (which probably aren’t a homage to “O Superman”), I’m envisioning a spilled glass of water on the carpet.
[3]

Brad Shoup: I thought he was putting foam on Juvenile’s points even before he started sighing “ha.” There’s a preciousness to the title that he his meek vocal approach steers into. But in going for that mannered RAM prog, Daft Punk ends up putting quotes on it. Somehow they think he’s bending to their will.
[5]

Katie Gill: This song sounds so good. That electronic bit in the chorus, the minimalist piano over the drum machine, the Weeknd’s effortless vocals lightly drifting over the instrumentation — it’s all absolutely wonderful… but then you listen to the lyrics. And even if you ignore that groan-worthy Star Trek lyric, there’s absolutely nothing new here. Look at me, I’m the Weeknd, I’ve got a Lambo, don’t try to throw shade at me. Everyone’s allowed a brag track every now and then — hell, the Weeknd’s probably overdue one. But I wish that the boring brag track lyrics weren’t stuck to a song that musically sounded this good.
[7]

Thomas Inskeep: Just a few years ago the Weeknd was the PBR&B flavor du jour, playing the sundown slot at the Outdoor Stage at Coachella, famous in the US more for collaborating with Drake on “Crew Love” than for anything he’d done on his own. And now, in just a few short years, world, “Look what you’ve done,” he says: he’s “a motherfuckin’ starboy.” Like much of his oeuvre, lyrically this is a nasty little look at (in this case, his) fame, but owing in part to Daft Punk’s hand in co-writing and co-producing, it feels substantially sleeker than what I’m accustomed to from Mr. Tesfaye. This is as streamlined and sexy-sounding as his beloved $1.2M McLaren P1 sportscar (which he references in the first verse), and I’m willing to give him as much credit as the Frenchmen for that. 
[8]

Tim de Reuse: I am unambiguously happy to hear Daft Punk stop faffing about with orchestras and get back to good ol’ drum machines and sappy knob twiddling, and they provide a very flavorful, crunchy base layer for Abel to do his thing over. Unfortunately, he brings all the charisma and dynamic range of an open-source text-to-speech algorithm.
[5]

Hannah Jocelyn: “Starboy” is definitely different; there’s notably less of the nonstop raunch and misogyny (“Main bitch/side bitch” lines aside) that makes it difficult for me to get into the Weeknd’s non-Max-Martin-ized tracks. That anger is instead harnessed into the quiet intensity of this track, Abel attempting to sound calm and collected but becoming increasingly paranoid as Daft Punk’s surprisingly minimalist beat builds and builds without payoff. Unlike most Weeknd songs I’ve heard, the paranoia is not just a gimmick or storytelling device but actually, genuinely palpable — the stakes feel high, because for anyone who skyrockets from a mysterious Internet presence to a legit multimillionaire, they actually are high. Yeah, it doesn’t really go anywhere, but that might be the point; here, Abel’s fear forms a black hole that absorbs everything around him, even the $20,000 ebony tables, even the cars he name-drops. No wonder he drags the ebullient creators of “One More Time” and “Get Lucky” down with him too. 
[7]

Will Adams: Wow: Remember 808s and Heartbreak? Here’s What It Sounds Like Eight Years Later.
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