#i could go “sig-neul bonae signal bonae” all day

[gifti3]

Sending you a signal, sending you a signal Tingling tingling tingling tingling

close up of alien mc:

[thesinglesjukebox]

TWICE - LIKEY [8.00] Title checks out.

Jessica Doyle: At first listen “Likey” seems underwhelming by Twice standards, as even applying the full force of Sana to “me likey, me likey likey likey” doesn’t result in a skull piercing along the lines of “neomu hae, neomu hae” or “kung, kung” or even “sign-EUL BONAE, sig-NEUL BONAE.” (The closest we get is Momo pouting about BB cream and lipstick, and she’s immediately followed by a more conciliatory Tzuyu.) Lyrically it could even be read as a continuation of “TT,” the members painting themselves as emotional messes at the mercy of the listener. The difference is in the potential for an alternate reading: Twice as emotional messes at the mercy of the audience, Twice given the opportunity to acknowledge the constant mental-health assault that is idol life. Everything feels like a careful signal (…bonae), from Jihyo as leader holding the camera and talking about the small screen, to the tourist-pristine presentation of Vancouver in the background, to Dahyun’s brief trap interlude, to the slouchier outfits of the dance-practice video. “Likey” doesn’t have to be Twice’s catchiest or most distinctive single when it can be Twice’s smartest. [7]

Alfred Soto: A haiku of romantic need, “Likey” recalls prime Stock-Aiken-Waterman in its concentration: boom boom boom it goes, its breathy vocals and hint of woodblock percussion leading the charge, until this time it knows it’s for real. [7]

Iain Mew: “Likey” is another proof for the interpretation that made me love “Cheer Up” – that it was a demonstration of what happens when you play along with a role with such absolute conviction that real emotions and portrayed emotions begin to blur. In “Likey” the same theme is both more heartbreakingly explicit lyrically, and present again in the music. There’s no fixed-grin mega-chorus this time, but bursts of a buoyant, colourful twist on the K-pop-house wave. Each chorus plays out like a perfectly presented social media life, splashing across all the complexities and effort they sing about going on outside of it.  [9]

Katie Gill: I’m a sucker for Twice. They’re a group that knows how to have fun, which shines through in their performances and sound, and I’m always here for their bright bubbly bubblegum pop. Add in those fun synths and an amazingly fun prechorus/rap break, and you’ve got a song that’s tailor-made for me to fall in love with it. I just wish that they didn’t hang the chorus on such an awkward phrase as “me likey.” [7]

Mo Kim: “Like is such a common word, not enough to express my feelings,” Mina laments in the chorus. Nayeon is more conciliatory: “But I like you, even if I can’t sleep, even if I’m late.” And Sana, by now a familiar and comforting presence, chirps back in ironic response: “Me likey, me likey likey likey, me likey likey likey.” It may be the best-executed joke in their entire discography: if there’s one thing that Twice has mastered, it’s the gap between what we know we feel and what we know how to say, and how that gap gets mediated through cinema cosplay, hooks as persistent as a lovestruck teenager, and alien soundscapes. “Likey” draws on all of those strengths, washing the anxiety of a social-media crush through pastel pink filters and emerging as the group’s surprisingly soulful thesis statement. [10]

Alex Clifton: A sugary-sounding song about a love/hate relationship with social media described in addictive terms. The struggle to project an ideal version of oneself on social media, to put effort into the perfect selfie, is nothing new, but I’ve never heard it described in a song in such opposite terms–yes, it’s a struggle; yes, it’s something we enjoy; yes, I need that rush of dopamine any time someone likes my posts to function. I’ve tried to wean myself off social media this year, but I’ve still felt the pressure to word things perfectly to gain the most appropriate attention. How do I make this funny? How do I make this unusual? How do I make this particular post–and, by extension, myself–wholly likeable? To hear it all jumbled so starkly in such a song–especially one that’s rigorously upbeat, one that could play in the background quietly and maybe slip out of notice as a standard pop song–is magnificent. [8]

Leonel Manzanares: I’ve always enjoyed how Twice likes to get busy, production-wise. This time there’s a fuzzy guitar intro joining a line of bubbly synths, a cascade of slow arpeggios in the verses, and even a half-time trap breakdown in the bridge. And I’m glad that the inconsistencies in their previous singles are a thing of the past, but why don’t they just sound as exciting as they used to? “Signal” was absolutely divisive, but was it really their creative peak?  [6]

Ryo Miyauchi: Out of all of the animated parts, Momo’s drive the story home. Her pout about makeup before the chorus goofs around as much as it runs frantic from all of the upkeep the girls have to do for that perfect Instagram picture. The others are more concerned to hit the right vocal spots to reveal just how much they’re breaking a sweat, but that’s Twice for you: the sugary beats and ditzy voices mask a deliriousness from all this need for attention. [7]

Joshua Minsoo Kim: In virtually every aspect of “Likey,” production duo Black Eyed Pilseung capture the inwardly frantic yet outwardly calm nature of using social media as an avenue for affirmation. It’s more structurally complex than “TT” and “Knock Knock,” but more cohesive than “Signal” and “Cheer Up.” This middle ground proves apt, as the song’s constant innovations and driving energy mirror the constant shifting of attention one experiences while scrolling through endless feeds of content. One could argue that the pre-chorus’s winding melody brings the song to a halt, but this only bolsters the song’s conceit. Compared to the rest of “Likey,” the vocalizing there registers as conversational. But it isn’t long before we’re pulled away into the chorus’s onslaught of Twice-as-hell catchphrases, transfixed by the sound of people transfixed by their screens. It’s a statement in and of itself: how could the real world possibly hold up to the notifications that blow up our phones? The entire song is sprinkled with onomatopoeiac representations that drive home this half-serious point: applying BB cream and lipstick, a crowd of people cheering, an angelic choir praising us in the chorus. And the only possible way “Likey” could have started is with its blaring horns and bouncing synthline–fanfare fit for a professional athlete’s entrance music. We’re ultimately left with our prized possession: a “Heart! Heart!” notifying us that someone’s liked our post, our image, our self. Amusingly, it’s preceded by the girls singing the sound of a quickly-beating heart. It turns out both hearts are our lifeblood. [10]

Will Adams: The popular consciousness’s fixation on millennial culture has endured for so long that it’s become easy to identify the quality of each thinkpiece: Does it treat social media users with disdain, or does it take the time to recognize the benefits they attain from it? In a better world, “Likey” would have been the urtext, at once acknowledging the enormous pressure to look a certain way – sucking it in, angling light so hits you just so, swiping through filters – and the rush of seeing the appreciation come through in short, warm buzzes. Each line offers a different reading, mimicking how quickly we sift through the emotions, never quite resolving them. And we get those mixed feelings elsewhere: a “Heart! Heart!” hook that’s both annoying and endearing, a breakbeat instrumental that’s both ecstatic and wistful, and the moment you receive that like, both time-stopping and boundless. [7]

Maxwell Cavaseno: Contrary to popular belief, sincerity is never a pure answer. There is nothing less flattering to the human face than your own tears, gushing down your face, mixing with snot and drool over your whimpering pleas to make you look more like a slug than any person of desire (no offense meant to my invertebrate audience, as someone with far less of a spine). Nowadays, in the harsh kiln of radioactive beams from our webcams, phones, and any possible source of laser-like intense study, we’ve learned to fix rigid plasticine smiles and gussy ourselves up in the desperate hope for approval and kindness from even the most distant stranger. Try making it through the days when even the robocalls don’t hit you back. I don’t imagine anyone in Twice was spending their Hallow’s Eve like myself, hysterically laughing at my own reflection after slathering on gaudy amounts of makeup and facepaint in the hopes of the slightest sliver of approval (should I be wrong, please provide info in a corresponding email). But they are likewise burdened with the task of smuggling themselves into the day-to-day of their intended audiences. This group basically shattered me with Momo’s sobbing babble of a voice and our mutual insistence that hysteria “isn’t myself at all.” Now, in the same way, her voice echoes giggling pleas for attention, acknowledgement, the cheap reminder that yes, somebody up/over/out there might be fooled into thinking they like “me.” The blare of the flange-drenched VST horns and the percussions slip from the freestyle/Atlanta bass skips on the verses to the 4x4 bridge to the hesitant 130-BPM breakstep fills on the pre-chorus are not as triumphant as they are propulsive, hurriedly pushing oneself along further and further. For all the moments that shouldn’t succeed (the Migos flow breakdown and the weird gap before the final chorus threaten to busy up the record too much), it’s a perfect balance of charming leap and trembling flail forward, doing its best to never sound as starved a record as it is. That’s the genius of Twice at their peak form, that something so violently happy never betrays the insane loneliness and desperation at its core. We love you so much. [10]

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