Review Summary: A string of hits trails off into a Latin pop wasteland. Muy mal, en verdad.
Prior to this year, it has been eight years since former pop sensation Enrique Iglesias has had himself a hit single. Not that he hasn’t been trying, mind - oh Lord, has he been. Iglesias has unwillingly spent most of the 2000s in obscurity and “whatever happened to” files - and only those with either an ear to the ground or a dedication to the Latin Grammys would have noticed him attempting every couple of years to once again be a hit with the kids who bought “Hero” all those years ago. With
Euphoria, his ninth(!) album and first to feature songs in both English and Spanish, it momentarily seems like there’s a chance of a glorious restoration of past successes. The key word here, kids, is “momentarily” - the great white hope fades away, leaving the listener in a cold, dark place where thirty-five-year-old men bitch about not getting laid. In two different languages.
There are plenty of flaws to be found in the album, from cliche-ridden English lyrics to cheesy Latin pop gimmicks. The greatest disappointment here, though, is just how well
Euphoria begins. Across four tracks and four different a la mode collaborations, Enrique sounds the best he has in quite some time - quite possibly ever. No doubt you’ll have already come across the lead single “I Like It”, the track that has broken the aforementioned “hit” drought. Complete with infectious melodies, an effortless Pitbull cameo and production handled by so-hot-right-now RedOne, it’s not hard to see how this track has worked in Enrique’s favour. A party-starter that pulls all the right moves, “I Like It” will have more than a few pop fans saying exactly that.
Akon pulls out a dancehall slow jam in “One Day at a Time” and Usher sticks to his usual electro-urban shtick on the obvious single choice “Dirty Dancer” - both with impressive results - but perhaps the biggest surprise of the opening quartet is “Heartbeat”. A crystal-clear pop trance, hooks are simply inescapable here as the male and female vocal roles converse of forbidden intimacies in a sweetly, almost authentically passionate, manner. If you listen with headphones, you may also pick up the faint sound of the flapping wings of pigs - The Pussycat Dolls’ Nicole Scherzinger has actually contributed something worthwhile to the world of music, as she blends into the fray of the song perfectly and actually sounds incredibly capable in the vocal department.
Don’t get your hopes up from here. The honeymoon is most definitely over by track five and the rest of the album is for Enrique tragics only - in other words, nobody. The first track without collaborations, “Why Not Me?”, is embarrassing, corny romantic pleas over a generic karaoke backing track. Shortly afterwards, “Cuando Me Anamoro” throws every tacky stereotype Enrique has tried in the past just to see what still sticks. Unsurprisingly, none of it does, but he still tries insanely hard to make it work. The album continues to float by in a forgettable, tangled mess that could be best described as effortless - not as in easily done; as in without any effort whatsoever. It’s both confusing and disappointing, especially when taking into consideration the positives found earlier on in the album’s tracklisting.
Enrique Iglesias had one last chance to make a mark on pop before he becomes like Danny Glover and gets too old for this ***. What a pity that it just wasn’t meant to be. If you’re particularly keen, try any of the first four tracks, but as for
Euphoria as a whole, the best advice one could give is to run, hide and escape.
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