It would be assumed that if a band thought to themselves ‘Let’s take the best bits of the Eighties, distort them to the point of no return and whack in some faux-bad-boy rapping and it’ll be a hit’ the respective listener would recoil in horror. And look, Iglu and Hartley have taken that very scenario and made an inescapably catchy song. Plinking synth and lo-fi drumming swirl as an obscured rapped portion is dished out from time to time. Unashamedly bright and bouncy it’ll be swirling around the brain within seconds.
If MGMT copulated with Bubbles whilst listening to some funky-house this would be the synth-ridden bawling baby that would be the result. It’s a horrible mish-mash of genre jumbled together with a Fresh Prince and Jazzy Jeff endorsed ethos, demanding to be hummed and loathed by one and all.
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