#isn't progressive revolutionary ahead of its time about everything

[despairhasitsowncalm]

that moment when you find out this isn't a "normal media attracts creepy fandom" type of situation and that the original media does, in fact, have some implications of the exact same brand of questionable as the fans

[thesinglesjukebox]

REMI WOLF - "PRESCRIPTION"

Ask your doctor if Remi Wolf is right for you. Aaron, who brought "Prescription" to our attention, did...

[6.40]

Aaron Bergstrom: Boots Riley starts big. His new show I'm A Virgo comes with the contradictions pre-heightened, a masterful Afro-surrealist fun house with every absurdity stretched to its breaking point, amplifying a message that has never been more timely: real change doesn't come from painstakingly crafted anti-capitalist rhetoric or even aspiring revolutionaries with questionable superpowers, as convenient as that might be. It comes from community. It comes from solidarity. It comes from other people. Remi Wolf starts small. "Prescription," written at Riley's request for a very specific plot point in I'm A Virgo (I won't spoil it, but the episode is called "Balance Beam"), opens on spare drums and descending synths, Gen Z Prince working through some social anxiety issues. Wolf said that the song is about "being in love and being really, really scared about it," and it's that underlying fear that underpins the subsequent ascent into ecstasy, the horns and the key change and the climax that probably only works if you're just a little bit nostalgic for Macy Gray. It all hinges on giving up control. This isn't the kind of joy you can find on your own. It comes from connection. It comes from other people. Riley and Wolf arrive at the same place: whether your revolution is personal or political, you're going to have to let yourself be vulnerable. You're going to have to reach out. [9]

David Moore: Remi Wolf, the little pop engine that couldn't -- thanks to the peculiar vagaries of Spotify's algorithms and curated playlists, I think I've heard almost everything Remi Wolf has ever released, and every time I hear a song, I'm really into it for about 15 seconds before the pleasure slowly ebbs. (My favorite Remi Wolf song is this Little Dragon remix of "Disco Man," which must employ some kind of Energy Star plugin to keep things humming along consistently.) At the same time, I don't know that there's a single bad Remi Wolf song either -- there's something sort of captivating about Remi Wolf's oeuvre, all these little candles emitting a few dazzling flickers before inevitably snuffing themselves out. [6]

Peter Ryan: A smidge more narratively straight-ahead than the gnarly, motormouthed Juno or its predecessor EPs; here Wolf's sonic freak-out puts a point on the exhilaration of the lyric -- you couldn't really call it mellowed, but it's less wickedly hedonistic in sound than a lot of her work, more a snowballing sugar overload. In three-minute form it's a bit of a band showcase, a rich thicket of soul-pop horns punctuated by Wolf's increasingly enraptured vocal breaks and ad-libbing. I'll take the seven-minute version, of course, indulgent and luxuriating in the thrall of yearning while affording the arrangement more time to unfold and Wolf more space to settle into it, goofy jam-interlude and all. At any length it might sound like a stopover for one of pop's most chaotic, inventive voices, but that restless energy at the core of her work would enliven even the most dependable of tropes. [8]

John S. Quinn-Puerta: A sex jam with more than cursory shout outs to depression, "Prescription" pulls off one of my favorite tricks, layering instruments progressively with each chorus. Wolf's squeaky half shouts play nicely off a rich round bass guitar, which in turn plays off the bouncy, just buzzy enough acoustic. The layered vocals in the bridge feel earned, breaking through into a lush horn and piano-scape. [9]

Nortey Dowuona: The way this song opens up with flat demo synths and drums, with Remi's high voice catapulting over thin guitar, made me feel like we were not going to go anywhere. Then the bass slid in, the horns started stabbing and punctuating certain lyrics and sidewinding during the chorus and the piano riff appears at the tail end of the second verse, and I was hooked. The lush and muscular bass rumbles below the mix and girds an otherwise very thin song with a strength it needs. But the extended version, which has an extra verse and refrain and chorus, feels both less abrupt and more vivid, allowing the song space to become bigger and bigger and delightful, while Remi -- even in all the lushness -- is still visible at the roots, her thin keening voice which was allowed no space on the standard version spreading far and wide, at ease, excited, delighted to refill. [8]

Ian Mathers: "Effortful" is not necessarily a synonym for "bad." [7]

Leah Isobel: Surprised to not hate a Tones & I-style vocal affection in 2023, but I think it's because the production's vaporwave synth textures and aggressively contained snare hits aim at an equally unreal emotional tone. It's not soulful, but "soulful": aware of its own absurdity and desperation. [7]

Katherine St Asaph: An absolute vocal ordeal. [1]

Joshua Minsoo Kim: She's singing her damn heart out, maybe even literally. [3]

Alfred Soto: No way I'd listen to this indie playroom "Purple Rain" meets "Brownsville Girl" again, but the soupy mix in which a brass section and pattern bob and turn complements the deliberately unhinged vocal performance. If I'd watched it on a busy street corner I'd look over my shoulder once. [6]

Brad Shoup: On the one hand, isn't pumping your devotional funk ballad with enough vocal fuckery to induce hypoxia a perfect Prince tribute? Some of those hoots in the post-chorus made me rip my headphones off, not because they were bad (they were), but because I thought one of my kids woke up. In places it sounds like she's trying to triangulate the Troutman talkbox through sheer vocal layering. Still, as insistent as she is, the arrangement of oozy synth/banjo pluck/brass hits is easy as hell, even if it's hard to pick out. Like she says, it makes my skin crawl in the best way (Adderall). [7]

Will Adams: All those vocal pyrotechnics only for them to be shoved way down in the mix. Why? It's not like the instrumental's ~chill vibes~ are particularly attention-grabbing. [5]

Hannah Jocelyn: I love that Remi Wolf stretches her voice as far as it can go and she's never actively grating for most of the song. Maybe it's because Nathan Phillips places Wolf (and the choir of Remi Wolves) far back in the mix; I can't explain why, but the effect is less someone screaming in your face and more witnessing Ken barely step out of frame to yell "SUBLIME!" The outro goes too over-the-top and bright -- the situation calls for Brittany Howard, someone who Remi Wolf is decidedly not -- but until then, there's a lot to love.. [7]

Vikram Joseph: Turns out the difference between "classic-sounding" and "derivative" is largely just charm, which Remi Wolf has in buckets and which turns a song that could have been a rote gospel-pop exercise into a full-hearted, grin-inducing joy of a song. It has shades of "I Try", and while it's not quite as beautifully constructed it more than matches it in endearing vocal acrobatics and in exuberant dorkiness -- "Prescription" is a love song that's totally sincere but which doesn't take itself remotely seriously. It feels like walking through your city in the sun and being weightless; it feels like "climbing over the walls I made"; it feels like giving yourself completely to someone and it not hurting at all. [8]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: I do not believe that one's background inherently determines one's future but as a Californian I must call it as I see it: this is exactly the kind of song you make when you go to Palo Alto High School and then USC Thornton. [5]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox ]