Not this one: the voice of our generation’s hit rapper floats in perfectly through the cracks of the taut, broken dancefloor long after indie rap viber ABRA and Boys Noize, a fellow traveler from the Berlin scene, have established the terms of their frustrated, cosmopolitan desires. It’s a perfect balance of the strange and the familiar, a dancefloor filler not afraid to undercut itself in pursuit of something further out.Īndrew Karpan: A lot of features from Playboi Carti feel like incomprehensible ad-libs that add texture, if not text to the surfaces they scratch. What was once merely sleek metaversal disco (if anyone danced in Neal Stephenson novels, that is) becomes something more woozy even ABRA’s gorgeous self-harmony sounds more bizarre. Just as quickly he departs, leaving the whole song unsettled. For that half minute he’s everywhere at once, talking back to himself, laughing at his own jokes, making noise. Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: A devastating magic trick of a song - ABRA and Boys Noize put together a gleaming piece of smoothly executed techno-pop (fax machine ambience included), and just as soon as the tone is set, Playboi Carti manifests, a poltergeist in the machine for just under 35 seconds. It’s not my favourite song of the year, but I wish that more songs were like it. I’m tempted to call Carti’s verse superfluous, but it’s hard to imagine the track without him, if only because his manic goblin energy makes ABRA sound even slicker by comparison (there is something oddly endearing to the dynamic implied by the line “if ABRA point the bitch out, I’m gon’ get ’em”).
But it’s ABRA’s vocal that breathes purpose into the thing: the song works for me simply because it’s so fucking cool, and nothing about it is cooler than ABRA, half-enunciating her lines (I legitimately did not know half of the lyrics before writing this blurb) and still sounding fully locked-in. Oliver Maier: It’s tempting to give most of the credit here to ABRA and Boys Noize’s genius instrumental loop, which threads together lithe Kelela-ish alt-R&B and something approximating crunk with spectral vocal snatches and a remorselessly dirty bassline. Donnie Trumpet & the Social Experiment.
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