Hey, what would the lead singer of fun. look like with long hair?…

[Video][Website]
[4.90]
Will Adams: A fine slice of indie-dance that saves an otherwise repetitive structure by constantly shifting between a broken beat and a 4/4 thump. I have and will continue to enjoy hearing it on Top 40 radio. I think I’ll enjoy it less at an artsy college party sidled next to 100 other identically shouty alt-dance tracks. I’ll retroactively adjust my score when that happens.
[6]
Patrick St. Michel: This is what happens when you come of age in the late 2000’s and decide to start a band – this mixes the blaring Fun-Dipped electronics of Passion Pit with the feral yelp of Animal Collective (the male vocalist would probably rank Feels pretty high on his Pitchfork People’s List). “Tongue Tied” fluctuates between dizzying and discombobulating, but does feature one genuinely sweet interlude courtesy of the female vocalist, who half-raps stuff like “slumber party/pillow fight.” It’s a nice bit of restraint from a song that could use a little more.
[5]
Brad Shoup: There’s the makings of a thinkpiece here that no one would care about: Grouplove’s drummer is the son of Trevor Rabin, the man who made Yes chart-relevant. Is the mention of roundabouts some sort of timewarp tribute? Who the fuck knows? I thought we were kicking off with the Solveig remix of “Kiss Me,” but then comes that gorgeous, Apple-approved carnival melody. Beyond fortifying it with Sean Gadd’s bass, they don’t know what else to do beyond stalling for time. Oh, and dropping a rappish interlude that may be the slurping nadir of indie’s delayed-development fetish. Great melody, though; perhaps it was young Master Rabin’s idea to keep it unresolved until the shouty-fab chorus.
[6]
Zach Lyon: I like this band, or I am at least passionate about a couple songs from their mediocre debut album, with one in particular that may surprise you as it did me a few years ago (I luv it). They’re one of many bands that occupy an unsettling suburban neighborhood between “indie rock” and “modern rock” and “unexpected pop chart success,” which seems to be the only type of success these bands can get. It’s hard enough to get a grip on my enjoyment of this song when it isn’t playing between Carly Rae and RiRi. Anyway, they can sound vibrant and gorgeous if there’s enough volume in your speakers and you have room in your heart for sour harmonies. “Tongue Tied” has problems (that verse; that video; the occasional nausea I get from the bubblegum xylophone) but I’m willing to defend them from the inevitable, if only because they seem to actually enjoy the sounds their instruments make. A rarity in [insert qualifier] rock these days.
[8]
Anthony Easton: It’s good to know that the indie affectation of British-as-code-for-authentic is still running rampant. Also, would it be a cheap shot to think that group love for them is a Wes Anderson film marathon? Also, the second half of this mess hangs from the body of the song all vestigial and grotesque.
[1]
Iain Mew: Whatever happened to Black Kids? I liked them.
[4]
Jonathan Bogart: fun. Part II, or a fifth-generation Killers copy? Why choose?
[2]
Alfred Soto: An awful lot of racket for a guy who wants to go “your” best friend’s house, but don’t put it past these guys to equate the multitracked grandeur of Arcade Fire with the sort of conviction that surpasseth understanding.
[4]
Pete Baran: There is a very eighties fuzzy bass line which underpins everything here, which manages to stitch together the various crowds singing the song. All it is is some minor key gang song, which is probably short of some killer lyrics. But as an exercise in mob music, it’s pretty much the best we’ve had this summer.
[7]
Michaela Drapes: Oh please, like I can even deny that if this came on at barefoot dance party on the beach that I wouldn’t jump around and sing along like a giant fool? I am too old and to un-jaded to even pretend to be too cool for this. The rough-and-tumble quality of the production is endearingly awful; I am a sucker for heartfelt out-of-range hollering. And there’s something about the last tinkling bits of acoustic guitar that hits the some major nostalgia buttons — specifically, college rock ca. 1989 — as well.
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