Have you ever seen videos of European megaclubs with men with sharp hair and women with sharp breasts dancing like decapitated birds between laser beams and glo-sticks? This track is pretty much an epitome of the kind of soulless amphetamine-driven music they listen to. From the chirpy little melody to the drums sprinkled with fairy dust, this is a forgettable remix of a forgettable track, designed for mass consumption and utterly disposable.
There’s lots of music like this – it’s certainly got its fans, and I normally stay away. So why am I reviewing it here? To make a larger point, of course. The record company lists this as “Vocal House”. Yes, it has a vocal loop (filtered through ultra-fuzzy mics copped from a 1990s rehearsal session of My Life With the Thrill Kill Kult, as is the fashion), but it’s nothing that you and I would recognize as such. The genres of dance music are already fuzzy, but with every miscategorized release like this, it becomes a little harder for those on the underground to explain what it is they do to the world at large. Anyone in the scene that purchases this is going to be extremely disappointed.
