[2.57]
What’s whiter than Bruno Mars?
Katherine St Asaph: I guess soda rots vocal cords as well as teeth.
[1]
Anthony Easton: There is something Bruno Marsy here in the combo of hip-hop and a kind of blue-eyed soul, but I like this: so controlled and tight around a text exhorting you to lose control. So the elegance of memory and the skill at construction gets me over any worry about the Mars connections.
[8]
Brad Shoup: He’s already got a shitty up-with-retro name; the difference between him and someone who gives a shit is only a small matter of degree, right?
[2]
Pete Baran: This kind of ultra-competence does absolutely nothing for me. I wouldn’t remember if it was ever played.
[4]
Alfred Soto: Oh goody — Bruno Mars, Black Eyed Peas, and La Bouche meet for a tryst!
[0]
John Seroff: Nothing says “It’s the End of the Western World as We Know It and I Feel Terrified” quite like nth-reheated club fodder.
[3]
Michaela Drapes: Never has a song filled me with more cold, creeping dread. This is the nail in the coffin of enforced fun “party” jams, right?
[0]
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