Pharrell Williams – GIRL – Review

Matt Warrilow reviews the new album from Pharrell Williams.

“It’s better to burn out than to fade away,” said Neil Young, years back.

On the back of hearing this new album by Pharrell Williams, it’s fair to say that he should have set himself on fire years ago.

Cast your mind back to the time of The Neptunes. Remember that glorious time when they were simply unstoppable? Oh my, Pharrell (and yes, the other guy who really isn’t hot, so could NEVER forge himself a solo career) not only produced some utter gold, but went on to shape the musical taste of so many artists and people of our age, as well as making some of the most influential pop music ever created. Look at this list, and then tell me that The Neptunes aren’t the most important pop producers since, say, Quincy Jones:

Ol’ Dirty Bastard – Got Your Money
Kelis – Caught Out There
Jay-Z – ‘I Just Wanna Love U (Give It To Me)’
Mystikal ‘Shake Your Ass’
Britney Spears  – ‘I’m a Slave 4 U’
N*SYNC – ‘Girlfriend’
No Doubt – ‘Hella Good’
The first NERD record
Beyonce – ‘Work it Out’
Half of Justin’s ‘Justified’, including what is arguably the best pop song of recent years, ‘Like I Love You’

I could easily keep on going, but writing lists are fucking boring, never mind reading one.

Either way, no matter how long that list could be, Pharrell has managed to not only taint pretty much all of his previous work with ‘GIRL’, but has physically stood above a pile of all his previous releases, and dropped a big, runny shit all over it and it’s not the type of dump that you’d enjoy. You know, when you’re absolutely busting, like your stomach is about to explode, and it even starts to make your hips ache. And when you finally go, Jesus wept, it’s like a rocket made of bricks has just shot itself out of you.

Oh no, this is the type of shit that is a mess. A big, sloppy, dull mess. One that is mainly liquid, easily washed away with one flush. But no matter how much deodorant you spray, that smell will never go away.

This is what this record is, a stinking wrench that just lingers. It’s painful.

On ‘Marilyn Monroe’, he sings about trying to find a girl who isn’t Marilyn Monroe, Cleopatra or Joan of Arc. Well Pharrell, that’s pretty fucking easy as those three are dead, and there’s about 3 and a half billion with a pulse. Maybe, y’know, be a bit more picky.

And just to seal the deal, we get a horribly cringy line, spoken by a woman who seems to be trying to impersonate Austin Powers, the Queen and Joanna Lumley all at once:

‘In honour of the groove, and all who surrender to it. We say thank you.’

I’m not shitting you. Those words are actually muttered. In a song. If somebody said that to me in person, I’d consider that decent cause to punch them straight in the face.

Not even Justin Timberlake can salvage anything from this album. The new king of pop has been ordered to sing along to a song that has one note on ‘Brand New’. The only band ever to produce anything decent with one note are Sunn o))), and it’s fair to say they don’t back it up with some half-baked disco groove.

But the worst offender, by a country mile, is what follows. I’ve listened to some shit recently, I mean I had to review the new Pitbull song with a folk breakdown for god’s sake. I’ve even listened to ‘Fieldy’s Dreams’ recently just to be ‘ironic’.

But ‘Hunter’ is arguably the worst song I’ve heard in years.

Seriously, there’s no way to sugar-coat it. It’s beyond dull and horrendous. It needs a word of itself. And I wish I could think of one, but ‘dorrendous’ just doesn’t cut the mustard.

But you know that turd I was talking about before? Well, imagine you had that, chronically, for at least a week. THAT is ‘Hunter’.

The backing resembles something written by a group of deaf kids who are forced to go to music classes, who then pick up a keyboard and just ‘have a go’. Then there’s more talking. This time, it’s not from someone pretending to be from ‘foggy ol’ Landan taahn’, but from Pharrell himself. And to put it kindly, makes me want to attack my own ears with an axe.

‘Duck Dynasty’s cool and all, but they got nothin’ on a female’s call, I’m a hunter.
Is that a tree, is that camouflage? Come get eaten by the damn mirage. I’m a hunter’

WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT? You’re a hunter, a tree, something camouflaged or a damn mirage, or potentially all four?! And you’re trying to have sex with a woman by describing yourself with those words?

Imagine describing yourself as those 4 things on your online dating profile. Not only would you never get a date, you would also be reported as being HUGELY inappropriate.

Which leads us onto the lyrics: ‘Just because it’s the middle of night. That don’t mean I won’t hunt you down’

Pharrell, you should never describe it as ‘hunting’, and to say you’re doing it ‘in the middle of the night’ doesn’t make it sound like you’re hitting on women in clubs. It makes it sound like you’re peering through strangers windows in bushes and wanking to the sounds of them pissing. After that, there just isn’t any way back for Pharrell and his hunting, lazy disco ways. Sure I listened to the rest, but I would hope after reading this, you will never have to share the sheer pain and discomfort I went through.

I forgave Pharrell for the overrated dullness that was ‘Blurred Lines’. I’m not sure I can do the same with this.