Despite climbing to some of the highest highs in recent years, TXT’s title tracks tend to be hit or miss with me. They’ll release something utterly brilliant like Crown or Run Away or 0X1=LOVESONG, only to follow it with a single that hits many of my musical pet peeves (I’m side-eying you, Can’t You See Me and Puma). With new track Sugar Rush Ride, they’ve somehow managed to meld both extremes into one song. If we’re playing with the analogy of its title, this is the carnival ride where you’re floating on blissful glee until the bottom drops out and you fall fifteen stories, vomiting before the attendant can dislodge the safety harness.

That’s probably a bit dramatic for this specific song, but it gives an idea of the musical whiplash you’ll experience on first listen. Many of Sugar Rush Ride’s teasers promised a cotton candy, funk-driven pop track – basically a sonic sequel to 2020’s excellent Blue Hour. The song is at its best when delivering this energy. Buoyant rhythm guitar makes a great backdrop for the group’s ethereal vocals and there are some genuinely unexpected melodies in the pre-chorus. Backing vocals enhance the punchier moments with satisfying texture. And then… the song comes to a screeching halt. It just collapses.

These anti-drops… I think there’s a world where they can work well, subverting expectations and adding multiple layers to a simple pop song. But, they’ve become so commonplace that producers must work hard to make them stand out. In this case, the complete non-event at Sugar Rush Ride’s core turns the track into a draft needing completion. Everything around its chorus is so lively and compelling. Clearly, the songwriters want to play with the idea of duality in a pop song, but you still need to make your dark centerpiece interesting. Otherwise, you negate all the great ideas leading up to the drop. The repeated “sugar-rush-ush” is simply uninspired. It’s difficult to get into the track when you know frustration is lurking just around the corner.

To be honest, I’ve got no idea how to rate this one. Three-fourths of the song is solid-bordering-on-excellent, yet the bad stuff is so bad that it kind of tanks the experience. I’m going to be extremely generous in the “bias” department but brutal when it comes to the central hook. This is very subject to change, but I think it represents the Jekyll and Hyde nature of the song. No matter which side wins out in the end, this is a totally unnecessary — and easily remedied — disappointment.

Grade: C