Paraffin! At The Disco…

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Alfred Soto: “I only want to make hits. What else would I want to make?” they said in an interview, and I believe it: “Sister Christian,” “Purple Rain,” like that. This schlock-a-rama of a power ballad doesn’t so much build intensity as use frayed nerves as a starting point. Unlike Prince and Night Ranger, Yves Tumor does not ask for sympathy; I hear an intensity inseparable from their detachment. They’re giving a performance of sexual heat. 
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Wayne Weizhen Zhang: Initially just a coronavirus-era joke, a post-quarantine baby boom is now expected to be unlikely — but for all the couples staying inside with nothing to do but feel cozy and intimate, this song and Yves Tumor and Diana Gordon’s crooning certainly won’t hurt the cause. 
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Kylo Nocom: Kinda drab for a sequel to a Flo Rida hit, no?
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Tim de Reuse: Technically marvelous and sonically pleasant: the crispness of the low end plays well under the less-defined haze of the guitars and Yves’s characteristically shrill reverb. But under the constant energy level and the unstructured repetition of the lyrics, it’s hard to point to any moment of its five-minute runtime as particularly memorable.
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Leah Isobel: “Kerosene!,” the song title, is a killer metonym: accelerant as love, as sex, as Sean Bowie’s thundering guitar, as Diana Gordon in psychic-channeling mode. “Kerosene!,” the song, lets that richly metaphorical image speak for itself; the lyrics are largely abstract beyond the title. That streamlined appoach is thrilling as the song reaches its peak. After that peak, though, are two minutes of jam session.
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Nortey Dowuona: So apparently, whenever weirdo black people want to make weird black music, everyone (white people) has a flipping conniption about it, even when the song in question is a slow, sloping bass groover. Sandy guitar and polling drums rise as the howling guitar tears up the floor between Yves and Diana, who is languid and scorching while Yves is lilting and shimmering. Slowly, the song unfurls, preparing the charred floor, but not before Yves burns the tape and drifts into the sun, Diana sweeping away the ash and humming to herself.
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