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Nelly Furtado f/ Timbaland :: "Promiscuous Girl"From Loose (Geffen; 2006)
This here’s an epilogue to the track review update I hijacked a couple weeks ago; the dance floor just started flipping up black lights. In the distance rumbles the fury Clipse are about to unleash, “Me Too” a chilling miasma of dealer-rap finally finding an honest aesthetic. On the median between the carefree today and the disarming tomorrow, Timbaland and Nelly Furtado (what the fuck, I know) shimmy with “Promiscuous Girl,” a scarily sexy duet. Now I know what kind of “bird” Nels was talking about.
God love you, Timbo, this beat’s a steam-engined charger. The BGVs on the hook of “Maneater,” Furtado’s other surprising new single, might be more tasty, but that song lacks the sinewy momentum created by Tim’s fluid flute line, the chika-chuka-chi-chika-chuk drums and the two-bar back-and-forth between siren and sailor. Big ‘80s synths punctuate a sort of “somewhere out there” chorus, but instead of animated mice, it’s a grown-ass man and a girl with an itch, fumbling around for each other in a frenzy that puts on a cool front. The distance is only a metaphor, too; when Mosley croons out into the night, “Promiscuous girl / Wherever you are / I’m all alone / And it’s you that I want,” Nelly’s standing right in front of him, immediately responding, “Promiscuous boy / You already know / Yeah, I’m all yours / What you waiting for?” When Nelly jumps up an octave on her next turn, it’s a highly arousing invite: “Promiscuous boy / Let’s get to the point…” But on the verses she often retreats from her counterpart’s advances. “What kind of girl do you take me for?”
So this song’s about consenting adults, who play the game just because, who tug-of-war when all they really want is to collapse in the same heap. Through the beat and the voices, one can feel the tension, the rope burn, the taut shifting and the swelling flesh, can see the sweat-glisten and the poker faces. Near the end Tim chucks in some extra drum kicks, you think it’s about to explode, then suddenly the track’s out, and you’re left uncomfortable, glancing around nervously, finger pulling at your collar. And you’re forcing thoughts of Renee Zellweger in order to ease the situation.
Chet Betz :: 7 April 2006 |
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