TRACK OF THE WEEK

L7
Dispatch from Mar-a-Lago

Remember that beautiful time we called the 90s when rage was all the, well, rage? To remind you, grunge gorgons L7 are back with three perfect punk minutes of distortion-soaked ultra-violence. Dispatch … is an imagined tweet-flurry from Trump’s Florida country club (“Mogul’s in deep shit, he’s all alone”) as a decidedly un-snowflakey mob storm the gates. Camp, cathartic as hell, and with all the mad-eyed humour and fury of women who can’t believe they’re still having to protest this shit.

Collective X
Take a Moment

More politics here because, well, 2017. Collective X are a group of international musicians, curated by Tottenham-raised Iraqi composer Alya Al-Sultani in response to Brexit. Their music is a Funkadelic-ish political pamphlet with smooth jazz vocals dipping the whole thing in melted chocolate. It’s a fun mob and this single begs you to join the party; “Take a moment to find your smile/ Take a moment to find your power”. So, er … thanks Brexit, I guess?

J Balvin and Willy William ft Beyoncé
Mi Gente

And when the world continues to leave you gibbering with horror, another thing to do is slap on the Beyoncé filter. All profits from this bandwagon-jumping reggaeton remix of the summer’s Spanish-language smash go to post-hurricane humanitarian relief efforts in the Caribbean. As a bonus, it honks like a funky goose, features future superstar Blue Ivy and demands you dance badly around your kitchen. Slay, etc.

Terror Jnr
Fight and Fuck

The label on the tin suggests another angry lady-banger, but Fight and Fuck is actually an atmospheric raw-nerve of feelingz-pop. “All I want is somebody to love … It can’t be good for us if all we do is fight and fuck” warbles Lisa Vitale, yearning for a relationship to move beyond the exhausting fireworks stage and into the comforting realm of box sets, matching slankets and a Charlie Bigham’s fish pie for two.

Michael Jackson
Thriller (Steve Aoki Midnight Hour Remix)

The world is divided into people who like Stranger Things and people who thought it was like being yelled at in the pub by an excited man with an I Love The 80s Twitter feed. “Remember ET?!” Me, whimpering: “Yes, of course, please stop spitting crisps at me.” This nostalgia-bothering Jive Bunny-ing of Michael Jackson’s Halloween anthem is like that, but on a massive dose of fashionable rave drugs. Spooktacularly pointless.