Despite the tune’s subject matter, Thirty’s lyrics and almost chirpy delivery dance to the precipice of “player” braggadocio, but avoid tumbling into the misogynist abyss precisely because he celebrates a sense of play.
Imperceptive at first, tension gradually builds. The switchback beats skitter, the horns surface like lazily breeching dolphins and Amurrio’s soothing croon soon merges with the midrange.
Hypnotic choral vocals are hushed and slightly slurred, a chillwave incantation devoted almost entirely to the two words that comprise the song’s title.