New Orleans bounce trickles like liquid chocolate across the fingers and throats of every player on this track. Only serving to solidify the cyclical and monotonous nature of human creativity, Pharrell and his m8s have managed to slurp up every delicious brown drop from the parties of old and spit it directly into the eager, moistened ear holes of today's youth, passing it off as a whole new party flavour, kinda like those honeycomb Maxibon variations; same, same but different. Fortunately, all is forgotten when Rihanna jumps in, spouting raw, feminine heat over the clicking, grinding rhythm. Now I want a La Ferrar, too. I'd party to this, if Rihanna was there.