Erik Hassle – No Words
Sweden’s Erik Hassle has always been a heart-on-the-sleeve kind of guy. One of his first singles, Hurtful (2009), centred around the lyric “What I did to you was hurtful”, a frank admission at odds with the more passive-aggressive apologising recently favoured by the likes of Justin Bieber and Ed Sheeran. After writing for others (including Shakira and Rihanna on the track Can’t Remember to Forget You), and a low-key but intriguing EP featuring Vic Mensa and Tinashe, the disco-tinged, sad-banger No Words welcomed a return to Hassle’s unabashed melodic melancholia. In fact, despite opening with a line about a funeral, the real beauty of No Words – with a closeup photo of Hassle’s tear-stained cheek as the artwork – is how it uses that sadness as fuel to remember the people important to you, creating a perfect emotional vortex of love and longing. That he can’t then summon the words to do justice to his loved one only makes the whole thing more bittersweet. Plus, it comes with a video of Hassle unashamedly dancing about like loon in a kitchen – which is what everyone needs to do immediately after listening to this song.
Little Mix – Black Magic
The rules state that if you’ve done well enough on The X Factor to get a record deal then you must pump out an album every year until everyone loses interest. Little Mix – obviously the best thing to happen to The X Factor since Sharon threw water on Louis – broke that rule last year, delaying their third album while waiting for the right lead single. And good job they did, because Black Magic – in all its Cyndi Lauper-style glory – is probably the best thing they’ve done. Eschewing the more hard-edged, experimental singles from their second album, Black Magic is a bounding, hyperactive puppy of a song, eager to please and full of joy. Just when you think it’s reached a peak (those delicious “heys!”), the “falling in love” coda kicks in and a smile breaks your face.
Carly Rae Jepsen – Your Type
No one knows the real Carly Rae Jepsen. How could we? She’s an enigma. But as a pop star, her persona elicits an “aw shucks, I hope Carly’s OK” sympathy. Call Me Maybe, her debut hit, had her falling for someone quickly and irrationally, and then hoping above hope that he’d call her back. The idea that he probably wasn’t going to was cemented when her object of desire in the video is revealed to be gay. She returns to this kind of sadness on Your Type, the Robynesque highlight of her very good second album, Emotion. I first heard Your Type in a hotel room in Los Angeles. The song’s steadily unfurling sadness and desperate longing filled the big empty room, my emotions exaggerated by jet lag. Dear reader, I’m not ashamed to say that, on its fifth play, I danced and mimed along to it, all dramatic hand movements and arm flailing. In fact, in a year when Robyn left her beautiful sadness at home in favour of 90s techno, Your Type feels like Dancing on My Own’s sadder, should-have-known-better older sister.
The Weeknd – Can’t Feel My Face
The Weeknd, to his credit, knew something needed to change. After three self-released albums earned him critical praise and a guest spot on a Drake album, his disappointing Kiss Land in 2013 found him running his shtick – drug-addled, semi-comatose sex fiend – into the ground. Can’t Feel My Face plays a neat trick in that it starts exactly as most songs by the Weeknd start, stuck in atmospheric suspense. Steadily, finger clicks join the fray before a very Michael Jackson-esque “whoo” heralds a quick shift in gear and a ludicrously catchy, captivating pop song materialises. The spirit of Jackson hovers, from the disco-tinged feel of Off the Wall to the vocal syncopation and layered backing vocals. Created with Max Martin and his team of sonic alchemists, it’s a perfect example of what happens when an artist with a strong enough identity and sound – it’s still about love as a drug, after all – decides to ramp things up a notch … or 12.
Liz – When I Rule the World
In an ideal world, the fizzy sugar-rush of this song – produced by professional pop confounder, Sophie – would have been Gwen Stefani’s comeback single. When I Rule the World has all the elements Stefani needs: slightly bratty charm, a verse that recalls Hollaback Girl for some extra nostalgia points and undertones of sexual empowerment. That’s not to say that Liz – who’s been knocking out brilliant singles for years and who co-wrote this one – doesn’t make it work for herself. The Los Angeles singer is perfectly blank and disconnected on the verses before bounding her way through the song’s head-spinning chorus. This being a Sophie production, the time to rest is brief, but before its kitchen-sink final chorus, there’s some lovely near-angelic backing vocals, while the song takes a well-earned breather for the middle eight.
