There was a time when I was smaller
and belonged to the class of tweenagers who worshipped the very screens Enrique waltzed across. had absolutely no idea what went wrong with people when a certain man sang of things and to tunes I rarely found worthy of so much as passive hearing.
People like Enrique Iglesias. Why?
I guess it’s one of the ‘why’s whose answers the world shall never know, yet a displaced, disgruntled part of it will laboriously continue to seek them.
Even as I type my draft, a friend is struggling to come to terms with the horror of it all.
‘Worse than clubbing a puppy to death!‘, she exerts.
Now you realize what I managed to get the hell out of?
Yeah, no I still have a few tracks by him on my phone, but in the sort of way you’d keep something to keep periodically certifying that you’re ballsy enough to watch/hear/jump/whaatever it.
In numerous games of truth and dare, people eye me with an evil grin and dare me to sit through an entire track; yep, that’s how far i‘ve come.
Honestly, there’s more music out in the world than you know. With the internet and a universe of web applications, it is easier to create and sell music and on the other end, to access them. But what are we listening to, really? I find today’s top <insert number> lists full of repetitive refrains artistes are eager to hard sell too earnestly.
‘… against a sloppy bum who goes around proudly assuring you that he has almost reached the perfection of a lunatic, because he is an artist who hasn’t the faintest idea what his art work is or means, he’s not restrained by crude concepts as ‘being’ or ‘meaning’, he’s the vehicle or higher mysteries, he doesn’t know how he created his work or why, it just came out of him spontaneously, like vomit out of a drunkard, he did not think, he wouldn’t stoop to thinking, he just felt it, all he has to do is feel– he feels, the flabby, loose-mouthed, shifty-eyed, drooling, shivering, uncongealed bastard!’
Give the ‘muaahhzz to enriqqa‘ a rest?
. The name. The NAME. Spanish makes girls go weak in the knees. Just saying. Here’s what: bacinica sounds fancy? It’s potty chair in Spanish.
His songs are either about love, you, love or him. Or lusty stuff. 3. With Tonight I‘m Loving You, he should probably consider joining the adult film industry burgeoning right behind his back. Not in front of the camera. 4. Some self-appointed tweenage authority might’ve admitted to swooning over hazel eyes, but seriously? Stop staring into the camera every 5 minutes and a quarter. 5. He basically cashes in on raging hormones. Again, ehm, just saying. So hey, open your heart… let these 5 points come in and murder your adoration for Le Enrique. Ooh, I feel sadist.
Do yourself a favor and seek that music that your television box does not play, that does come running back to you in playlist. Make the effort to make known to yourself, music and its beauty.
Here’s one of my favorites.
In case you wanna sing along, lyrics!