Poor old Enrique. He’s been losing sleep over this album. Insomniac is reputedly the result of six hard months studio graft, with at least 20 other tracks failing to measure up to the Latino love god’s exacting standards. Or maybe it just takes that long to make an album where nearly every track has a different producer. Either way this is an album that comes exquisitely polished but perhaps stretching itself too far.
Iglesias’ USP (apart from springing from the loins of an even more legendary Spanish singing sex symbol) is, of course, his voice. Discarding the flashier trappings of his ilk, he’s become known for the jeans, t-shirt and beanie look that allowed his fans to concentrate more fully on the unique ‘on-the-edge-of-tears’ tremble that adds such emotional depth to his craft. On more traditional fare like “Little Girl” and “Somebody’s Me” only a fossil could remain unmoved. Likewise on his other safe ground, the world pop of tracks like “Miss You”, he rarely falters, even if you get the feeling that it would always sound better in his native language. “Do You Know? (The Ping Pong Song)” sounds far better in its Spanish version as “Dimelo”.
But the plethora of ‘name’ producers show us that Enrique is longing to muscle in on the ever-burgeoning R & B market that’s supporting the likes of Timberlake. On “Push”, (featuring the obligatory dirty rap from Lil’ Wayne) he becomes unstuck. It’s ‘adult’ in a way that doesn’t play to his strengths. The bump ‘n’ grind seems mechanical and oddly unmoving. Likewise “On Top Of You” which, again, fails to coinvince in its sleaziness.
To be honest he’s no need to make this move towards clubland. He remains the king of latin-tinged heart-tugging and at least half of this album keeps him firmly on top. Just not in an R Kelly kinda way…
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Why the fuck are we here? Yes, Love. Angel. Music. Baby. sold multi-millions. But last time I checked, Gwen had absolutely no plans for a follow-up this soon. From all accounts, the only people left in the room are a nervously tittering Interscope in one corner (wait…Trail of Dead, Lloyd Banks, and Fergie aren’t recouping?) and a genuinely frightened Pharrell in the other (Only gold, big fella? Maybe it needed another six months.) Hell, even the Harajuku girls stowed away on a slow boat back to Japan months ago. But here we are—again—hoping beyond hope for a single or two to sink our teeth into, one that we want to put in the 2006 or 2007 folder before we trash the rest and wash our hands of the whole thing. Well, I got news: it doesn’t work like that. L.A.M.B. had six singles. We’re going to be here for a while. Honestly? It’s not a terrible place to be. Getting past the hot-or-not grades we’re inevitably headed for, let me just take a moment and say that Gwen Is Good. Good for the pop landscape. Good for Pharrell. Good for us. When “Wind It Up” is on the radio, it’s preventing something far less interesting from getting played. I don’t care how much payola it costs: this is a positive. I mean, in all seriousness: When was the last time you heard your high school’s marching band, theater department, and hottest girl crowding into the recording studio together? Other possible singles: “Yummy” is the “Hollaback Girl” of The Sweet Escape. Pharrell brings the disco tetris so hard on this track that Gwen even rewards him at the end with a one-and-a-half minute outro. Before all that, though, she gets in this chorus:
I know you’ve been waiting But I’ve been out making babies And had the chef making donuts and pastries It’s time to make you sweat Sex and sugar is the flavor Ovens and beaters and graters Beats made of bongos and shakers It’s time to make you sweat Trust me, it’ll be 85420 on your karaoke remote in June 2007. Tony Kanal is back, by the way. He’s one-and-a-half for three: “Don’t Get It Twisted” is a Rock Steady outtake, “Fluorescent” has the good sense to bring in Angelo Moore on saxophone, and “4 in the Morning” is payback for the break-up. Speaking of guests, Martin Gore and that dude from Keane (not the fatty, not the guy who plays drums) both make appearances too. One is great and one is awful. Try to guess which. L.A.M.B. had some truly execrable moments—and The Sweet Escape doesn’t disappoint there either. “Orange County Girl” sees her flowing over a beat previously earmarked for Jamie Kennedy, “Now That You Got It” is her best Beastie Boy imitation over a “1 Thing” rip, and the title track features Akon occasionally yelping “wooo-ooo, eeee-ooo!” Special kudos, however, go to the utter monstrosity that is “Breakin’ Up,” a Fruity Loops-aided ode to the cell phone. Sample lyric:
TELLMECANYOUHEARMENOWTELLMECANYOUHEARMENOWTELLMECANYOUHEARMENOWTELLMECANYOUHEARMENOWTELLMECANYOUHEARMENOWWE’RE BREAKING UP!
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Encompassing heavy metal, folk, pure rock & roll, and blues, Led Zeppelin's untitled fourth album is a monolithic record, defining not only Led Zeppelin but the sound and style of '70s hard rock. Expanding on the breakthroughs of III, Zeppelin fuse their majestic hard rock with a mystical, rural English folk that gives the record an epic scope. Even at its most basic — the muscular, traditionalist "Rock & Roll" — the album has a grand sense of drama, which is only deepened by Plant's burgeoning obsession with mythology, religion, and the occult. Plant's mysticism comes to a head on the eerie folk ballad "The Ballad of Evermore," a mandolin-driven song with haunting vocals from Sandy Denny, and on the epic "Stairway to Heaven." Of all of Zeppelin's songs, "Stairway to Heaven" is the most famous, and not unjustly. Building from a simple fingerpicked acoustic guitar to a storming torrent of guitar riffs and solos, it encapsulates the entire album in one song. Which, of course, isn't discounting the rest of the album. "Going to California" is the group's best folk song, and the rockers are endlessly inventive, whether it's the complex, multi-layered "Black Dog," the pounding hippie satire "Misty Mountain Hop," or the funky riffs of "Four Sticks." But the closer, "When the Levee Breaks," is the one song truly equal to "Stairway," helping give IV the feeling of an epic. An apocalyptic slice of urban blues, "When the Levee Breaks" is as forceful and frightening as Zeppelin ever got, and its seismic rhythms and layered dynamics illustrate why none of their imitators could ever equal them.
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