Swedes to be proud of…

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[7.38]

Iain Mew: Is this an answer song to “If Tomorrow Never Comes”? At this stage my enjoyment of Niki & the Dove’s aesthetic is well documented and it’s nice just to hear new material from them, but “Tomorrow” is their least spectacular single to date. I keep waiting for it to properly excite me or hit me emotionally but it never does. Though the section with the main vocals creepily distorted while the “yeah-hey-hey-hyeah!” calls in the background carry on excitedly, regardless, gets close to bursting out of what feels like self-imposed constraints.
[5]

Anthony Easton: Tragic and beatific, and lovely… horribly lonely, and v. v. sad, in that slightly Nordic, horribly kitsch way, like lace silt graves. 
[6]

Alfred Soto: The pitter-patter electro bedrock on which they build the track, indebted to Radiohead, is wobbly enough to support voices that ascend into an empyrean where the vapor trails of Kate Bush linger. “I know what I want/I let my body talk,” she coos, taking her shoes off and throwing them in the lake. As an experiment — number four if you will — in delineating the limits of aural sensuality through the layering of cool sounds, it’s superb.
[7]

Josh Langhoff: Emotionally prodigal, but smart about it. The subtly shifting synth riff, contrapuntal background vocals, underused pearl merchant simile — all smart, all calculated to unlock certain profligate pleasure centers like super-secret, super-precise kung fu moves that make your heart explode. Even the “if tomorrow comes” bit is less apocalyptic dread than reasonably weighing all the options. At song’s end, does Malin Dahlström want to love? Not as much as she wants to learn.
[7]

Jonathan Bogart: I’m not sure what it is that keeps me from tipping over the edge with Niki; maybe it’s just “[woman’s name] & the [noun]” overload, or a base suspicion that my love for flustered 80s production is being catered to rather than bolstered, but I keep admiring her songs without ever finding myself loving them.
[7]

Brad Shoup: I mean, that’s the beauty of a killer chorus, right? Eventually the verses get compressed, either in perception as you hear it, or in the replay of your memory. Not that Niki plus Dove have given us duds — Niki has this fascinating way of staying the attack of her consonants — but the refrain is a rogue wave of romantic nonsense. We’re packing the dog in the truck and heading for higher ground.
[8]

Zach Lyon: For a Niki track that doesn’t slay me like they can, this is as delightfully listenable as it gets. The chorus hits a Cyndi Lauper foreground on top of a Knife background (almost exactly, in fact) which is pleasure central for me, but it’s the interplay between the staccato synths and the scuttling percussion that makes it sound like it belongs in the score of a movie I would unabashedly love because of its score. 
[9]

Katherine St Asaph: Malin’s in a deep sleep again. She used that phrase in “DJ, Ease My Mind”; hearing the two songs together is like piecing together her private language, one where laced wrists and hollow teeth and pearl merchants have meanings she won’t tell us outright. The gist, though, is obvious. After drifting, clicking verses of mumbled, listless cliches, Malin shrieks “meet me at the same place” out of breath and up an octave, the same way (sorry) Kate Bush shrieked “this is what I want!” at the end of “Never Be Mine.” She knows exactly what she wants, but it’s as passionate as it’s useless. When she continues with “if tomorrow comes, I want to waste my love on you,” you know she knows tomorrow won’t, that she’s throwing all of herself, all her voices and all the surge of her chorus at someone who doesn’t care. But she sings anyway, as if she’ll catch fire just by wanting it enough. By the third refrain, even I’m convinced.
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