Much like a compilation CD, the only real cohesion is imaginary and the only alleviation from the boredom is the occasional ‘huh’ of recognition.
It is interesting that Flo Rida's latest album Wild Ones is named after its strongest track. It is even more interesting, however, that said song is placed second in the tracking order, preceded only by Whistle: a guitar-driven pop number that, despite being released in April, still circulates most nightclubs in the wee hours of the morning. Clearly no one has informed Flo Rida that it is not considered tactful, under any circumstances, to use all your best moves first – not in the bedroom, not in the rink and especially not in the studio.
While my use of the word 'best' in the context of Whistle refers to its popularity, in the context of Wild Ones it refers to its strength. Featuring Australian singer/songwriter Sia, the song is immediately a league ahead of the rest, as her unique and powerful sound allows the listener to overcome the corny lyrics, bad Auto-Tune and injections of unwanted techno. The album enters a rapid decline by the third track, escorting the listener on a rollercoaster of sexual euphemisms, lyrical clichés and pounding party remixes. Much like a compilation CD, the only real cohesion is imaginary and the only alleviation from the boredom is the occasional 'huh' of recognition.
Essentially, Wild Ones sounds as though it were written and produced with the following images in mind: a) A fast-paced cardiovascular exercise in an overpriced gym, and b) A smoky dancefloor at five in the morning, littered with thrashing bodies, vodka Red Bulls and merging sweat. If it is true that Wild Ones was created with these stereotypes in mind, then perhaps it is only under these circumstances that you can truly enjoy such a turbulent and self-indulgent album.