Music

Music Review: Heatwave feat. Ms D by Wiley

When the rest of the UK has finally peaked into the high summer temperatures, Wiley would like to lay claim to it. ”When I arrive I’m causing a heatwave,” he boasts. I’m not sure what he is setting ablaze, but it certainly isn’t my eardrums.

Wiley has trespassed into something he’ll be unfamiliar with, and that is commonly known to be mainstream music. The fact that its taken him nine studio albums to achieve solo chart recognition tells you all you need to know.

Without messing around, the biggest issue with ‘Heatwave’ is it’s schizophrenic disposition. Is it a rap song? Is it a dance anthem? It sits on the fence and fails to achieve neither. Wiley’s verses and the tracks instrumental sonic give the impression of two strangers in a lift.

It does well with being gregarious though, especially with the hook ”put your hands upon my body.” With that said, the last thing I’d want to do in a heatwave is some abrasive dancing. There’s talk of ice-cream vans, light skinned lasses and oddly, some business talk. Perhaps all the heat has got to his head?

Wiley.

The nagging problem with Wiley is that he gives the impression he posses more in the cranium than ”my names Wiley, yeah play my song then.” It’s a shame that this chart-topping single didn’t tackle difficult emotional hostilities like ‘Love You Way You Lie’ by Eminem, or Professor Green’s ‘Read All About It’, rather than drinking a Slush Puppy (yes, really). The same thing applies to Ms. D. It’s a stark contrast to ‘Oopsy Daisy’.

Taken with a pinch of salt, ‘Heatwave’ can be considered as fun. The backing track is catchy and the girly chorus supplied (although it’ll soon drive you nuts) makes us forget that Wiley struggles to find words that rhyme with heatwave.

Maybe I’ve been a little bit harsh here. But it’s obvious Wiley found the prime usage for the Ctrl+V short cut on a keyboard. ‘Heatwave’ would of taken a little longer to become reality without it. All ‘Heatwave’ accomplishes is pitching a big festival of repetition, with numbingly simple sensibilities. And frankly,  its down right lazy. 3/10

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