Say Hell No To Ingrid Michaelsen's Disposable Pop

Ingrid Michaelsen, let's talk. What's a pretty girl like you doing constructing a tune, in this case "Hell No", in which the video turns heads easier than the tune itself. I mean look at it. You've got a panda mask, piggy mask, water shooting out of your eyes, even the Reaper gets his time in the spotlight. What do we the listeners have to show for it? Just a processed slice of keyboard drenched, processed drum, Meghan Trainor sound alike pablum. I see how the rhythms could make even the stormiest days brighter but "Hell No" could've been sung by anyone from Rihanna to Meghan Trainor to Miley Cyrus and nobody would catch the difference one iota. Lyrics suggest we're dealing with some a-hole that Ingrid wants to avoid like the Bubonic Plague. The man was wearing his previous lady's sweater which should've been a dead giveaway the bum was bad news. No amount of candy-coated filler is going to hide the fact that "Hell No" amounts to three minutes two seconds worth of you missing an opportunity to be doing practically anything else...or anyone else. I give cred for the special effects and the myriad ways the director uses to employ them but...a little substance please. Good for Ingrid listening to Mama's wisdom that boys like that don't work out in the end anyway. The chorus tries its best to be pep rally emphatic but the whole shebang comes across as high school glee club dated. Ingrid certainly isn't tough to look at. Add to that her new album title "It Doesn't Have To Make Sense" plays its human condition card beautifully but...you and I likely didn't pop in to check on the intangible, unanswerable questions of the universe. Escapist entertainment shall suffice thanks. We have to be at least partially entertained though and "Hell No" fails to pass the sniff test. Tell me something Ingrid. Where's the cute affectations that stemmed from "Boys and Girls"? The method behind that song appeared to have artistry embedded at its core. That song was also less hogtied by a pronounced lack of subtlety. "Hell No" sings its kick that man to the curb philosophy loud and proud. Perhaps if man bashing amplified to a mega arena pitch suits your listening proclivities then...three cheers for you. Ingrid's got to be smiling somewhere in a distant recording studio. Meanwhile, maybe the heat makes me intolerant. Maybe I ask for standards I know are too high to ever be met. Still Ingrid's slipped a peg or two in her career development with this tired tale. "Hell No" I won't go off to be seduced by your lightweight charms.