The Singles Jukebox

Fuckennn….

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[5.86]

Jonathan Bogart: In which the law of diminishing returns doesn’t mean that there’s not (yet) enough left for a good time.
[6]

Asher Steinberg: Every rap blogger in the world is in love with this song, and I don’t entirely see why. A Grove Street Party sounds so communal and cook-outish, and this sounds like a nefarious underwater gathering where everyone’s on designer pharmaceuticals. Which I guess could be fun too, but I feel the song’s a little less fun than it ought to be, certainly less so than his first few singles.
[7]

Kat Stevens: A sign that I am getting old: I no longer get drunk for the sake of getting drunk – I mean, so drunk that you have no idea what’s going on. It seems like a whole different universe ago that this was not only acceptable but a badge of honour, testing your limits to see exactly how much vodka you could get through in a night and announcing proudly to your classmates on Monday morning that you were so completely slizzered on Saturday that you had absolute amnesia of Lisa’s party, and you definitely couldn’t remember getting off with Peter Watson at all. I still get drunk and make stupid decisions, but now it’s because I like the taste of beer, or because I like being in the pub with my mates for as long as possible and becoming intoxicated is a happy side effect of this. The main difference is that now I want to remember what happens! (Perhaps this is why ketamine has never appealed to me.) I don’t need to show off my liver stamina or concoct exciting anecodes to impress my chums. Also these days I can’t seem to avoid hangovers like I could when I was 18. I hope Waka Flocka Flame has some ibuprofen on standby.
[6]

Martin Skidmore: Lex Luger’s production is a decent approximation of a bright party sound, albeit a moderately paced one, but Waka’s stoned drawl is from a different kind of party. He’s not a rapper I am feeling at all so far, flow or rhymes, and this doesn’t help.
[4]

Chuck Eddy: Still don’t expect to be ready for crunk nostalgia for another decade or two at least (if that is indeed what Waka deals in — I get the idea it is, but I also assume I’m missing the boat on the guy, and I don’t really mind much), and this doesn’t sound much like a block party to me — well, the backup barking sort of does, maybe, but I don’t hear much celebration in Waka’s voice. Do like when Kebo exclaims “swish!” a few times, though. One party activity is apparently the shooting of hoops.
[5]

Al Shipley: I didn’t much care for “Hard In Da Paint” and his other breakthrough hits, but I love Waka’s album and the reason why is songs like “Grove St. Party,” in which he and Lex Luger simply show their versatility with a whole other kind of hardheaded fun. P.S. the line “my partner on a pill” is not advocating birth control.
[8]

Jer Fairall: He has a seductively menacing presence that I can only imagine is put to better use elsewhere on his well-regarded album (the oft-cited lyric “When my little brother died, I said, ‘Fuck school'” the strongest proof I’ve heard so far that he might really have something to say), but this lugubrious party jam only shows him wielding a heavy hand even when none is required.
[5]