Aubrey O’Day and Shannon Bex test our Danity Kane fandom…

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[7.80]

Micha Cavaseno: As Danity Kane’s existence continues to remain one of the biggest headscratchers, the girls continue to make their way headfirst into a future that may/may not want them. Still, Dawn’s cult fanbase has proven that there’s a future beyond singing backup for Puffy’s madness and being attached to the perpetual stuck-on-stupid energy that was the lads of Day26, so why not the rest of the girls? Aubrey and Shannon have opted for electro-indie disco, which would’ve probably earned them a lot of cool points the first time DK broke up but is still sold decently by how they spiral around the Venn diagram of “brash”, “confident” and “snotty”.
[6]

Iain Mew: The lush synth lattices make an instant positive impression, which the huge drums and incredible first line — the layers of yearning they put into “I fell asleep in the shadow of success”, my god — more than live up to. From there they pretty much just have to keep the whole thing rolling, and they more than succeed. The way that they fill every space with energy and vocal interjections is thrilling, and the mixture of certainty and anxiety summed up in “the dream is never done” gives the whole thing an intense (double-)edge.
[9]

Ramzi Awn: Going by title alone, this is a [10.5]. Dumblonde does not disappoint with their dreamy ode to after prom opulence, packed tighter than a Louis Vuitton briefcase with synth pads and effects. The Danity Kane inspired vocals are in position, and the single doesn’t let up until the last minute.
[10]

Megan Harrington: Cluttered, unfocused, and robotic. In theory, something this mechanical should be smooth and precise, but in practice it’s more like how you can never find that file you saved because where did you put it? It’s guided by dream logic, the kind that makes a retelling boring and nonsensical to all listeners. They insist the dream is never done, but thankfully the song ends quickly. 
[4]

Katherine St Asaph: I have a vague notion I don’t root for Aubrey and Shannon after the Danity Kane feud, but I can’t tell whether that’s legit or secondhand Internet fumes, and at any rate “Dreamsicle” ends it. It’s glorious filter-dance hyperpop, file by “You and I Alone,” that hits the same personal-resonance buttons Ace Wilder did. If performances could actually make stars, this would.
[9]

Will Adams: As a song, “Dreamsicle” is a maximal electropop onslaught that thankfully never lets up. But as a mission statement, “Dreamsicle” is so much more than that. The central hook — “We won’t wake up, the dream is never done” — repeats throughout until it’s a mantra, at which point the song turns its last minute into a frenzy of glorious sound.
[9]

Thomas Inskeep: Remember the breed of glitch-hop producer/remixers who came up alongside the mash-up masters in the early ’00s, like kid606 and dsico? They pounded pop records to smithereens and then scotch-taped the pieces back together and then pressed ’em to acetates – or at least, that’s what some of their deconstructions sounded like. dsico’s filter job on Sophie Ellis-Bextor’s “Murder on the Dancefloor” (cheekily titled “Murdered Murder”) was a particular highlight. Well, that seems to be the approach R8DIO took to this single from two ex-members of Danity Kane: it stops and starts, goes underwater, treats their vocals like just another sample, and works brilliantly. This is heavy electro that’s also heavily pop, and it’s amazing.
[10]

Josh Winters: Shannon and Aubrey are certainly firing on all cylinders as the fabulously formidable fembots they have become, but the protrusive synths hold them back just a bit, giving not enough room for them to fully breathe and the sledgehammer beat to slam as hard as it would like to.
[7]

Brad Shoup: The first half of the chorus shows the achy side of the “Work Bitch” ethos: Dumblonde climb their mantra like it’s a listing mast: the synth flaps against the wind. Something that gets this seasick ought to send something overboard. But Dumblonde expel the mantra another four times and the sickness passes. It’s massive filter-pop otherwise, which may house the problem: a little instrumental contrast — a little rest — might have helped.
[6]

Alfred Soto: Like a tropical storm shredded by mountainous terrain but strengthened in warm water, the remains of Danity Kane transform into a more powerful incarnation, all falsetto and stutters over a hot pink and electric blue track that honors the title. Dawn Richard has nothing to worry about: these women sound nothing like her.
[8]