But how do we feel about meat?

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[6.38]

Scott Mildenhall: Shakka’s final exclamation that “I HOPE SHE LIKES MEAT!” is a lyric to rival “we’re high-fiving Jesus!” as the year’s best. It’s a broad payoff, but the song as a whole is brilliantly crafted: a fully rounded story in which nothing really happens. That is always something to strive for and to build on, and in augmenting his night-in-the-life vignette with a retrofuturist remodelling of a hitherto underutilised sitting duck of a sample, Shakka has definitely managed the latter.
[7]

Leonel Manzanares de la Rosa: Were Shakka and grime veteran JME trying to make Britain’s answer to Fetty Wap? Cause they kinda pulled it off. Shakka’s song has the inmediacy and some of the awkwardness that made Trap Queen special — that “tasty meat” line, come on — but it’s the guitar riff on top of that big bassline what really drives the track forward. It meets the one requirement for a great riff: It’s fun to play.
[7]

Thomas Inskeep: Shakka sounds good, JME sounds better (I can listen to good British rappers all day long), the track is solid (that Spandau sample is delightfully odd and off-kilter), but Shakka’s lyrical sentiments are junk, especially insisting that he’s “looking for a freak, someone who likes tasty meat.” Ew.
[4]

Jonathan Bogart: My usual jaundiced skepticism about lads on the prowl for, uh, lasses was mollified by a well-placed synth riff (Spandau Ballet? okay sure), but the crowing whoops at the end were what really endeared me to the song. Not that high spirits is a blanket excuse for treating women like things, but given the parameters of the genre, I’d rather hear joy than mope.
[7]

Alfred Soto: Spandau Ballet’s most lasting moment was writing a riff on which PM Dawn would base a beautiful song, and the riff from “To Cut a Long Story Short” manipulated like soft Play-Doh deserved a smutty setting. Nothing much here though. It’s long past the time when a woman gets the affectionate sobriquet “freak” for liking meat.
[4]

Megan Harrington: The conceit of the cuckolded/dumped/oversexed narrator who heads out for a night of hopeful debauchery is nothing more than a red herring, a netted trap that snares all those unsuited for the club and suspends them overhead from a sturdy tree branch. After that glitch and static Shakka unspools one of the most infectious, lit from within, cut for the dance floor anthems released this year. “Say Nada” demands you enjoy your company, you give thanks to the night, and you allow yourself tactile pleasures. 
[10]

Micha Cavaseno: An irritating nasal tone that matches his weird guitar riff in his production, Shakka has his pluses and his minus. The way he remarks his situation’s “peak” is a big snipe in the world of Drakk’s Boy Betta Know’s tattoo represents clumsy and clammy-handed mishandling of the eternally unspoken parts of the UK. Speaking of BBK, JME is here! And his guest verse is pretty awkward and goofy, but has typical moments of Adenuga-brand endearment. But Shakka himself is equally clumsy with a lot less of the charm or character. And the meat stuffs is… not choice, fam. Mans not really trying to hear about that star.
[5]

Edward Okulicz: Shortly after Richard X mangled Spandau Ballet’s “Chant No. 1,” I created a loop of the good bit of “To Cut A Long Story Short” in CoolEdit and knew someone would do something great and pop with the idea. It’s taken long enough, and this isn’t quite great, but it makes smart use of the interpolation. The Spandau track was always flimsy and over-reliant on its hook, but “Say Nada” weaves it in and out of the track without it fatiguing. Shakka’s conversational verses are springy and light in the ear too, so much so that it’s a surprise that this is actually rather less intense than its source material. Spandau Ballet never had no one-liners about tasty meat either.
[7]