Marshmello & Anne-Marie
FRIENDS
Remember 2017’s admirably specious PR narrative that Anne-Marie was as popular and as successful as Dua Lipa? Great days! Now that’s all out of the way, this likably idiosyncratic vocalist can get on with being herself, which in classic 2018 style means making a record with someone else, although here that person is bucket-bonced banger-botherer Marshmello, so Anne-Marie’s in safe hands. FRIENDS is a G-funk-referencing friendzone tune whose lyrics spell out the song’s title and count to six, making this both fun and educational.
Noah Cyrus ft MØ
We Are…
Cancel all future pop, 2018 has its anthem: a ludicrously slick Max Martin-produced corker with Noah shouting “WE ARE FUCKED” amid self-lacerating lyrics about fame and social media, topped off with portions so lyrically, melodically and vocally Lorde-esque that you’d be forgiven for thinking they were the result of abandoned writing sessions whose use Lorde only permitted on the proviso that her name be removed.
Daphne & Celeste
BB
Now is probably the time to put an end to the notion that a handful of amusing hits in the 90s justifies any sort of career in 2018, but if Beck is still allowed to release music, let’s permit Daphne & Celeste one last canter around the pop paddock. BB stands for Basic Busker and complains that men with acoustic guitars are all over the radio. Possibly only true if you’re listening to Absolute. Do not listen to Absolute. It’s not great but does include the line “Your mastertape leaves me agape”.
US Girls
Rosebud
In which Meg Remy’s take-it-or-leave-it-but-mainly-leave-it US Girls “project” slides into string-abetted disco and ends up sounding like pre-fame Madonna. Not the best Madonna, then, obviously, but Madge is Madge.
James Bay
Wild Love
James Bay returns, having confronted the age-old music biz problem of the “difficult second hat”, and he’s played a blinder because if you look at his new photos there’s no hat at all! Hat’s all folks!! Is the song any good? Well, yes: it’s an underplayed slinkwobbler that sounds like the builders outside your window singing along to Jessie Ware, but that’s not as interesting as the hat thing is it? Where do we go now? Is the only solution to stare at a hat-shaped lightbulb before looking at any new photographs of “The Baymeister”? Must we live our lives hoping that maybe the real hat was the hats we wore along the way? Chaos.
