Review Of Robyn’s Body Talk Pt. 1
The concept behind Body Talk is a double-edged sword: Like Gaga’s The Fame Monster, the eight-track Pt. 1 feels abbreviated, like a sampler for a project Robyn was too impatient to complete before sharing it with the world (at the time of the album’s release, the upcoming instalments were reportedly still being recorded.).
However, it also comes fully loaded with more hooks than your average pop album’s entire tracklist. The bulk of the album is comprised of stiff beats and in-your-face bluster that attempt to portray Robyn as more impenetrable machine than flesh-and-blood sweetheart: she makes like a petulant prima donna amid software sirens, computer bleeps, and a menacing Thriller synth-grind on the opening track Don’t F**king Tell Me What To Do; she’s a digitally chin titanium mama” with “a lotta automatic booty application on the glitchy Fembot; and she laments everyone’s failure to rise to her lofty standard onNone of Dem, a tech-epic collaboration with Royksopp.
Equally brilliant is Cry When You Get Older, a sleek slice of electro relationship advice, in which Robyn tries to pass on pearl of wisdom to the young kiss she sees in clubs scraping chorus that manages to sound uplifting even when it’s talking about how painful love can be. Equally, the fragile, piano-led Hang with Me may seen desolate but its message is clear; treat me nicely and I’ll reciprocate. In one couplet, it manages to sum up the differences in the way men and women approach relationships: “I know what’s on your mind/There will be time for that too/if you hang with me”. But what has to be the best song here, in fact one of the best songs of the year, is Dancing On My Own, a cool slab of heartbreak that chronicles the loneliness of epic disco night.
Best tracks: Don’t F**king Tell Me What To Do; Fembot;