It’s a Hit

by Cee Lo Green
(www.ceelogreen.com)

Hey, look, guys—it’s 1968! How do we know? That’s what this sounds like in every way possible except the obvious—but even the words are easy to imagine if, say, Swamp Dogg had been singing them way back when. Even after the song wears you out by never, ever leaving your head (reports of it popping up as an internal sing-along at very inopportune times are nearly as ubiquitous online as the YouTube embed itself), encountering the thing itself is still a consistent up. Also available for the radio as “Forget You,” which is good advice.

by Chromeo
(Atlantic)

Hey, look, guys—it’s 1982! How do we know? Oh, you know: That’s Chromeo’s shtick. If it seems slightly wan (and it is), that’s partly because plenty of the 1982 music to which they’re paying homage was slightly wan as well—this could be an Imagination outtake, which is hardly an insult in my book. Still, it says something about them as songwriters and singers that the highlight of this thing is a keyboard solo.

by Donae’o

(My-Ish, UK)

Hey, look, guys—it’s 1990! How do we know? Because this track is a tougher, slightly soca-fied version of that year’s dance-pop brigade (Black Box, Deee-Lite, “Vogue”) with some chattering on top that’s just stern enough to sound authoritative yet miraculously flexible. (“Ta-na-na-na-na-na-nee-nee-nee, ta-na-na-na-na-na-nee-nee-nee” is not easy to articulate at any speed.) Donae’o is an old English grime guy, so this has no U.S. profile, but it’s one of the year’s best singles.

by McGill
(www.soundcloud.com/cliffsides)

Hey, look, guys—it’s 1991! Literally! Only it’s 2010, third quarter, so the song is now eight times slower. Here’s the biggest shocker of all time: Track 9 of the most oceanic album ever made sounds exactly the same at 29 minutes as it did for three and a half. You make the call.

by the Ready Set
(Sire)

Hey, look, guys—it’s 2010! How do we know? Megan Seling on Line Out: “Owl City and Justin Bieber had a baby. It’s called the Ready Set and it was born with a glowing microphone.” In short, superproducer and king-titan Auto-Tune abuser J. R. Rotem goes for the kindergarten and/or very sheltered Christian market. It’s offensively sugary, like happy hardcore gone completely to seed. (Nevertheless, Brandon Ivers should dress up as him for Halloween.)