Friday, January 10th, 2020

Full Tac ft. Lil Mariko – Where’s My Juul??

Do we choose rule, or do we choose suck?


[Video]
[6.11]

Alex Clifton: Juuls. Juuls. Juuls. Oh my god, Juuls.
[7]

Katie Gill: It’s a little bit telling how all the comments on the YouTube video are comparing this song to other meme songs and not talking about the merits of the song itself. Still, there will always be a place in the world for meme songs that are serviceable memes but less than serviceable songs that teenagers can obnoxiously quote on the bus. “Where’s My Juul” fits that niche perfectly. I expect a fleet of TikToks featuring people lip-syncing to this and will be very disappointed when this inevitably doesn’t happen because I am out of touch with the youth.
[6]

Kalani Leblanc: I can see there’s already an abundance of blurbs submitted for this song, and the number will have risen by the time I finish this. After thinking so hard about how to go about being the fifteenth person to say “It sounds like “Shoes”,” I’m realizing it’s not really “Shoes” anyway. While they’re both jokes that bear a resemblance in the thrash of a breakdown, “Where’s My Juul??” is also listenable. The comparison is getting tired because it’s like did anyone listen to “Shoes”? As a song? In earnest??? While this is not an entirely impressive piece, no concerto or FKA Twigs production, it’s enough. Since 2006, we’ve been making everything into jokes, so it makes perfect sense. Nicotine-induced freakouts would’ve been the subject of an after school special ten years ago, but now they’re joke material for hypebeasts and others on Twitter. Lil Mariko makes an impressive case while trying to find her Juul; I can’t find anything this song did wrong, sorry.
[8]

Will Adams: The mid-song 0-to-11 ramp is what takes this past the mean-spiritedness of “#Selfie” and the meme-spiritedness of “Phone” into effortless “Shoes”/”Let Me Borrow That Top” absurdity. The Juul is a placeholder; sub in any other monosyllabic cultural artifact, and Lil Mariko’s rage against Full Tac’s electroclash-y beat would cut through just as effectively. “Sorry, guys!” she says at the end, except there’s nothing to apologize for.
[7]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: I wrote 20 pages about Juul culture in 2018 so I should in theory be the exact target audience for this. Yet “Where’s My Juul??” doesn’t really click for me. It’s charming and funny in parts (Lil Mariko’s spoken verses, which transmit nervy anxiety and barely restrained fury effectively) but the hook, which takes up most of the very long minute-forty-five, is comedy via brute force principles: repeat a phrase enough and it will transfigure into a joke.  
[5]

Brad Shoup: About as funny as the related TikTok meme, though not as menacing, surprisingly. I wish so badly that Full Tac had gone full hardcore — or even brostep! — but am glad that Lil Mariko’s Danny Brownian ad-libs and sudden reversals grind “#SELFIE” into the dirt.
[7]

Oliver Maier: I need not catalogue the myriad ways in which this is transparently designed to blast off on TikTok — you would probably know better than me — but that cynicism detracts from “Where’s My Juul??” for me. There’s none of the spontaneity or sense of genuine fun that animates certain other genre-agnostic, threat-spewing, extremely online weirdo duos, more savvy than it is genuinely silly. It’s not badly executed, but I felt like I got the picture before even hitting play.
[4]

Will Rivitz: I get this is supposed to be more meme than song, but I so wish it had leaned into the latter for more than half its runtime. The “FUCK!!!” at the beginning of its second chorus is worth at least a [7] on its own, and its redlining nu-metal production is such a tight fusion of XXXTENTACION’s sonic fingerprint and simplified TikTok trap that I’m surprised the “oh my God” ad-libs aren’t followed by a “Ronny.” As it stands, “Where’s My Juul??” and its just-a-little-too-long interludes that grate after listen number four or so functions as a sort of “Thrift Shop” for the current day, a track defined by its novelty that we as an Internet music-Twitter hivemind all agree was genuinely good about five years after it’s exited the public consciousness. It deserves more.
[8]

Ian Mathers: Both less musically compelling and with less of a point than “Can I Get a Box?”.
[5]

Katherine St Asaph: It’s kind of amazing how it took seven years for Rebecca Martinson to release her debut.
[1]

Nortey Dowuona: Lil Mariko is actually kinda weird in the lol so random funny way that people think that [insert overrated white comic who had a Comedy Central show] is and has a really great metal screaming voice. I don’t know who made this dull approximation of Kenny Beats and Pi’erre Bourne, nor do I care. Lil Mariko will hopefully get a recurring cameo role on Nora From Queens and get her own show from that.
[5]

Mo Kim: The best joke here is the escalation of nonchalance (hey, where’s my Juul?) into something desperate, and therefore dangerous: it hits like the drop in a rollercoaster when Lil Mariko finally breaks out the deep-throated metal screams, but the moment wouldn’t have half the thrill without the masterful way she gradually ups the heat on the song’s first chorus before that. Both of her spoken monologues, where she merges Valley Girl affect with murderous menace, only sweeten the deal.
[8]

Ryo Miyauchi: “Where’s My Juul??” gets spiked with an infectious dose of adrenaline when it suddenly turns a lot more aggro than you’d expect from a meme-y cross-section of Rico Nasty’s mosh-pop and PC Music’s ironic bubblegum. The demented beat stings with a pungent metallic sourness, and while her Valley Girl accent scans as an obvious put-on, Lil Mariko’s blood-curdling scream is legitimately hair-raising. The song rapidly combusts, ensuring the joke doesn’t overstay its welcome.
[7]

Joshua Lu: Yes, hearing the unassuming Lil Mariko scream and snarl over a missing Juul is intrinsically funny, especially accompanied by a music video that knows exactly how to push the limits of its concept. But the real strength of “Where’s My Juul??” lies in its sheer relatability. The title could be anything — where’s my wallet, my phone, my eraser — because anyone who has ever misplaced anything can relate to the escalating panic and rage in not only the cataclysmic vocals, but also Full Tac’s discordant production. Also crucial to the song is its sense of plot, as it steadily progresses from confusion to blame to outright violence. The ending, though predictable (Lizzo used the exact same twist not that long ago), is a necessary denouement, as it provides the moment where everyone involved can look back on the last minute and a half of chaos and laugh.
[8]

Iain Mew: As a song structure trick, I love the fake-out final verse, those ones that seem like something slowly developing before the artist brutally cuts it off for the chorus or instrumental to come back stronger than ever; the “Don’t Speak” and “Your Best American Girl” kind of thing. The key moment of “Where’s My Juul??” comes in taking that same trick to a ludicrous, brilliant extreme. It has a drawn-out, jittery verse, a cartoon scowl of a chorus, and then one question into verse two it veers straight into swearing, screaming and fucking everything up. That’s perfect enough that it would ideally be even shorter than it ends up.
[7]

Kylo Nocom: Full Tac and Lil Mariko do in less than two minutes what took Justice five. The gimmick is the least fun part, and judging by my sample size of BigKlit’s “Liar” and Full Tac’s very own “CHOP” the producers behind this might not even be as funny as this video would imply. But I’ve long settled with music that’s good on the merits of just being fun; when the production here is layered with discordant guitar sampling, analog drum kits, and distant screams of “piss!” and “fuck,” I’m willing to buy into the ugliness.
[8]

Joshua Minsoo Kim: Full Tac returns with another take on “Liar,” succeeding because the goofy conceit here finds an appropriately goofy (that is, unexpected) vocal performance. Part of the appeal is how “Where’s My Juul??” could sit comfortably alongside songs from Rico Nasty and Rina Sawayama, but has the appeal of shoddy viral videos from yesteryear. It’s that “Kombucha Girl”-type reaction it’s striving to elicit, and it accomplishes that as soon as the screaming starts. The best detail, though, is the most subtle: the moment Lil Mariko stops herself from saying “who” and politely asks “have you seen it?”
[7]

Michael Hong: Have you ever been dragged to a party only for your only friend to disappear, leaving you to mingle with a group of people you don’t know? And one person makes a comment so absurd that you just giggle along with the rest of the group even though you’re not really sure if they’re layering their statement with even a hint of irony or if there’s something much more unsettling lurking underneath? But the jokes are getting more and more uncomfortable and suddenly fewer people are laughing along, instead furtively glancing across each other with an exasperated look as if to say “is this person for real?” And instead of backing away, that person instead starts doubling down, getting more and more aggressive, screaming across the room for what feels like hours and surely people must be ready to head out. Instead, when you finally catch a moment to glance down at your phone, you find that only two minutes have elapsed since you arrived and you realize that not even a quarter of the time has passed before your ride will come and you can leave this godforsaken party. You have absolutely no choice but to continue standing in the group in discomfort, waiting for this moment that feels like an eternity to finally finish, with the only background noise being the stereos blaring what sounds like someone’s first attempt at using GarageBand.
[0]

Crystal Leww: While I was digging through “likes” on SoundCloud, I noticed that a friend of mine had liked “Baby Let Me Know” by Full Tac, which sounds like the synth heavy dreamy pop that was popular at the beginning of last decade. I did not stick around for “Where’s My Juul??” so imagine my surprise today when I turned this on and it’s umm, screaming. A consistent genre as an essential part of an up-and-coming artist’s brand is less essential than ever, especially in an age where (waves hands) dance music has eaten itself alive in its swirling storm of troll energy. Chaos in and of itself is a brand — from 100 gecs to Alice Longyu Gao’s dueling sister tracks “Rich Bitch Juice”/”Dumb Bitch Juice” to any DJ Bus Replacement Service set, it has fully infiltrated dance music. How this goes from sweetly threatening to full-on psychotic and back to cutely apologetic is chaotic so yes, I think Full Tac could make some noise (both in creating a fanbase and also like literally) with this. 
[8]

Reader average: [3.33] (3 votes)

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