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• #Yes no crystal castles lyrics movie

“MCs Can Kiss” is a diss track, but since Uffie admittedly has no skills, she can only really rip on herself by definition (“I'm an entertainer, not a lyricist.”) And more MySpace boasting! (“I got nine million plays and twelve hundred friends.”) This is the moment where Uffie dares you to buy into her gimmick or not – can't you accept that she's just a party girl who found an honest way to get rich quick?

“Give it Away” is an awkward breakup song which talks about subjects like “responsibility” without fooling anyone.

#Yes no crystal castles lyrics movie

Why couldn't she harness this persona so effectively elsewhere?Ĭontinuing the hot-streak, “ADD SUV” is a cute dance-ready collaboration between Uffie and Pharrell Williams which overcomes its Top 40 production veneer through spunk and at least one clever line: “Minute to minute I feel like I'm in / The movie Memento but I don't have a pen.” And from precisely that moment the album goes to shit. Her croaking delivery and silly lyrics push the silly vibe just far enough, and the conceit works well.

You're so tired to hear about what I do, about what I smoke, what I drink, about what I cook for my husband, all the travels I do, all the shit I got for free?” And then she falls back on her MySpace cred, which is never a good sign: “Me and my stupid flow, me and my MySpace with only three tracks a year, and they still talk about me? Damn.” Touch é ? Next the beat kicks in, a creepy lurching groove punctuated by choral stabs and plinking keyboards evoking a cartoon ghost-house. “Art of Uff,” the second song, has Uffie on the defensive already, trying to deflect criticisms about her self-obsessed sometimes-rhymes in a spoken-word intro: “I know, I know. Is this someone whose narcissitic, demi-musical rantings you'd want to listen to for fifty minutes? But they're supposed to be idiotic, I guess ? “Time to get low / do the tootsie roll / That's how we do / Do it hot / And if you understood / would you / Stop hatin' and playin' hard / I got a loaded bodyguard.” And now imagine that she's half rapping, half singing these lyrics in a pseudo-British, French-inflected trainwreck of an accent. On “Pop the Glock,” the underwater auto-tune and rotund bass kicks entice at first, but the lyrics break the spell right fast. This would be fine, but it's very hard to like or care about the Uffie that's being shown to us. Good? No.Īs she's not exactly an “artist,” Uffie is about fleshing out a character, and sketching out a narrative to go with it. There have been comparisons of Uffie to Warhol, which would make sense, except that behind her surface shimmer there aren't subversive underpinnings, but selfish motivations.

In retrospect I realized that Justice can make anyone sound like cool incarnate. And weirdly enough, she's been able to reach across the aisle to gain the admiration of both scenesters and hipsters, thanks in no small part to her killer Justice collab. Instead, she wants to be respected by sheer force of personality and page views.

Most importantly, she doesn't have talent, and she admits this to her listeners up front (“I can't even sing, you know?”) – yet she isn't a comedy act. Uffie is a genre-defying musician who straddles the lines of hip-hop, electro and pop.