Summer suns and some aren't

Going steady with the singles of the summer

702, "Where My Girls At?": The best Missy-Timbo joint of the year, outstripping Missy's own "She's a Bitch," but that's not saying much. Missy's stuff went nowhere even if the album is pretty good, and the Ginuwine songs are OK, but I expect more from hip-hop's Tiresius: I want beats from Jupiter, I want grooves from Atlantis, I want the future now. (4.5)

Will Smith, "Wild Wild West": Nothing like a triple bogey with Kevin Kline attached to ruin your handicap. Do what you gotta do, Will, but don't drag Kool Moe Dee into this. (2.0)

It doesn't matter how much you pray, Puffy. Biggie ain't coming back to revive your career.
Yariv Milchan
It doesn't matter how much you pray, Puffy. Biggie ain't coming back to revive your career.
From Mouseketeer to "Genie in a Bottle": Christina Aguilera delivered one of the finest singles of this, or any, summer. Well...
From Mouseketeer to "Genie in a Bottle": Christina Aguilera delivered one of the finest singles of this, or any, summer. Well...

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Smash Mouth, "All Star": They've got their game on, and they're ready to play. They don't even have to be the rock band safe for neo-contemporary swing yutzes to like anymore. Now they're the soundtrack-guitar-organ-pop band that's safe for people who might think The Offspring is a little too lively, which is a lot more fun. Somebody find the big man a lozenge. (7.5)

Sugar Ray, "Someday": If you think I can possibly tell Sugar Ray songs apart, you're wrong. I'm sure this one is just fine. (This also applies to anything by Lit or Blink 182, Warped Tour or no Warped Tour.) (5.0)

TLC, "Unpretty": Fanmail was one of the year's most slept-on-as-avant-garde records of the year. (Not an impossible idea: call it the "Missy/Timbaland effect.") The electronica slung on this joint is as easily "out" as anything by Autechre or Mu-Ziq, only Fanmail comes with scrub-free girls telling it like it is. This self-esteem ballad seems a little lightweight even after fluff like "Silly Hoe." Wouldn't we all have felt better about our bodies if this song encouraged us to move it rather than contemplate our navels? Summer radio hits should do nothing less than dance this mess around. Guilty songs are for back-to-school. Which I guess is where we are. (3.0)

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