Saturday, 21 January 2012

Mouthing Off: Santigold Riles Little Monsters With New Song/Video

Well, this is bizarre. Here I was about to post a simple video embed and brief song summary, then call it a night...

...but it turns out there's a little more going on with the new song from Brooklyn's Santigold, possibly involving (but not limited to) monsters, Ke$ha, surgical enhancement, fish, Lady GaGa, that fake lesbian one with the lips, and the vacuous world of pop music in general


Most of those being items that H-T-A would never touch with a ten foot barge pole - lovely fish being the obvious British exception - let's be the anti-TMZ and focus on the music, yes? Grand.
Photo Credit: Jackie Kingsbury



So it's a skittering little affair, riding in on a very tribal beat and developing into a vaguely rave-tinged dance floor filler. Buzzed through with intermittent 90's electronica effects, it powers the main diatribe of the notoriously acerbic Santi White rather effectively; that being, seemingly, the aforementioned power trio purveyors of throwaway teen pop, and their lamentable ever present status in our lives.

Having waited a good four years now for new material, this is perhaps lacking some of the charms held by her debut songs that so prompted the anticipation for more. Holding 'Big Mouth' up to the likes of 'L.E.S. Artistes' or 'Creator' certainly finds the former on the end of a sound thrashing in the lyrical stakes, although musically there's enough going on in the new one to hold promise for the next album, entitled 'Master of My Make Believe'.

You can make your own believe with a spin the self-titled debut here on Spotify. You can also play/download 'Big Mouth' below. Does it stand significantly higher than this new song to your ears?

Santigold - Big Mouth by santigold


As always, final judgement is very much reserved until I hear this in the context of the full release. Even on its own, though, it's causing enough of a stir to add extra momentum to the inevitable hype that's beginning to gather. If you listen carefully, on a quiet day, you might just be able to hear the publicist's hands rubbing together in self-satisfied glee. 

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