A co-worker once summed up Shakira after “Whenever, Wherever” molested our ears for the 20th time on the same day: “She’s the Brazilian Britney.” “But she’s Columbian,” I corrected, and then I immediately felt like an ass. What ‘s the difference in this context, really?
Shakira as a Brazilian might have made for some interesting pop-samba Portuguese poetry, but Shakira as a Colombian never really made for anything anywhere near as syncretic and dynamically, creatively cool as, say, Aterciopelados.
Some early reviews of Shakira’s crossover English-language debut grumble about how the record doesn’t sound particularly Latin, which makes me wonder if these critics ever heard any of her Spanish-language releases which, aside from the Colombian-inflected Castilian, are international-pop confections and not much more. So she got an English rhyming dictionary and transferred her piquant yodel from one colonial tongue to another — where’s the substance of insight and creative ingenuity from Shakira’s mixed Colombian/Lebanese background, except for the worst platitudes about Latin passion and Gabriel GarcÃa-Marquez’s (typical) influence?
It’s all in the production, with the endpoint of U.S. consumption now at hand and promotional stories that once had her co-writing some of her songs in Spanish, now conquering English all by her deceptively diminutive self. Add this one to the Latin boom of the late-’90s, though some years late, as it joins the ranks of J-Lo and whatever Ricky Martin comes up with next for the Pepsi Generation — no more pop-en-Castellano for Shakira — though perhaps we can look forward to less flat-footed lyrics and a more savory CD title, as she masters such English slang as “ka-ching!”
February 2002, Illinois Entertainer
