“It’s single-minded desperation for the dancefloor is best signalled with a mere glance at the title”
Digital Release: June 12, 2011
Physical Release: June 26, 2011
It’s a sad though when you look back at how The Black Eyed Peas have changed from soul-infused hip hop to certifiably soulless drivel with the audacity to sample some of the most unusual choices and completely bastardise the melodies with all the arrogance will.i.am is known for. It’s enough to make one question each motive for the sudden musical change with the same blinded assumptions and lyrical blunders they all make when it’s their turn to take the microphone and discuss their devotion for the parties.
For instance, their new release, which is, expectedly, more of the same from the insipidly uninspiring foursome: it’s single-minded desperation for the dancefloor is best signalled with a mere glance at the title, which, effectively, is probably more worth reading and accepting that that’s all there is to the song, and not bothering with even listening to it, because when you do, will.i.am’s strangled auto-tune, uninteresting melodies and desperate rhymes leave one chuckling to oneself, particularly at will.i.am’s attempts to rhyme the words “lyricals”, “digital”, “aboriginal”, and “genitals”. Observe the lyric: “Kill you with my lyricals/Call me verbal criminal”. It’s hard not to laugh or at least let a gleeful smirk slide across the face because, for someone who’s vocabulary rarely exist outside associations with the club scene, will.i.am’s self-proclaimed verbal omnipotence seems to have been misplaced quite obviously. will.i.am is clearly trying to procure for the party scene, that much is obvious, so it’s not like we should expect the lyrics to be of a Bob Dylan philosophy, but even for hip hop these lyrics about himself give the listener no intent to dance and even less intent to bother listening to him regurgitate the same slurry that can be heard on their other singles since ‘The E.N.D.’
And to be blunt, Fergie sounds like a man on this record thanks to the processing, and her criminal under-use leaves one swamped by the others’ egos, making ‘Don’t Stop The Party’ just another bland bit of dancefloor fodder in the ever-increasing line of painfully generic, ego-charged techno hits that were probably expensive to make, but end up sound depressingly cheap.