| Music Review of "Whenever, Wherever" by Shakira Hi. Thanks everyone for being so good in reading all the stuff I write on this website. You have all been fab. Could I also take this chance to appeal to that mysterious person who was the second person to sign my guestbook to please identity him/herself? E-mail me please. I might not have found the word you�re looking for, but I do know how to stop that leg-shaking thing. And hi to yen and Yf. Right, down to the usual business of being overly critical and generally crapping on things that offend me. Today I've decided to tear apart Shakira�s �Whenever Wherever�. Who? Exactly. Two years ago, hell, three months ago, close to no one had heard of Shakira. She sounded like the damsel in the latest Indiana Jones movie set in the lush tropical jungle of Borneo, or some sort of war cry that the Maori chant before they rip apart a lamb, or something like that. But no. Shakira is the latest sweet young thing to come out of South America � Columbia to be exact. And dent the American music market in such a big way they are calling her the next Christina Aguilera. Since when did Christina actually go away? I know it�s been ages since she released an album, but I hear she�s performing at the Winter Olympics. Funny how some people can take time off, but still pop up all over the place. Celine Dion, I�m looking at you. Has it been a year already? Well, take another decade off, please. I�m begging you please. The chilling wind blows. And it touches me like that. It was so long ago, but it�s all coming back. To. Me. Now. Anyway, one of the well-crafted art of singing stupid lyrics is to just sing them so fast that no one has any clue what the hell you�re going on about, then hook said stupid lyrics to a somewhat catchy melody and then radio stations all over the world will be going, �And here�s the latest from the lady who calls herself Shakira�. There are so many problems wrong with that sentence I don�t know where to start. Okay, there�s only one thing wrong, really, and any radio deejays reading this had better sit up and take notice. People never call themselves anything, unless they decide not to go by their real names. Even so, there are legal mechanisms in place that make sure you change your name when you sign that multi-million dollar recording contract. The lady who called Shakira Shakira is probably Shakira�s mother. Shakira could not have, as a day-old baby whose vocabulary probably consisted solely of the word �ra�, have called herself Shakira. Confused yet? I�ll simplify it for you. When I release my debut single titled �Whatever, Whatever� and it makes me a millionaire, the radio deejays can actually say �And here�s the debut single from that talented young hunk who calls himself River Dawg�. But Shakira? No. �Cos that�s her name, yo. Okay, let�s get started. We have a lot to poke fun at with this song, so let�s stop the name-calling. Shakira�s tongue moves very fast, so come on, we have to catch up. She starts : �Lucky you were born that far away so, so we could both make fun of distance�. If you make sense of that sentence before you turn 90, please let me know. Also, I�m feeling very sad for the person who calls him/herself Distance, because he/she is being made fun of simply because someone else was born far away. Far away from where exactly? I dunno. Distance, maybe? Poor Distance. Next : �Lucky that I love a foreign land for the lucky fact of your existence�. Why didn�t she just call this song �Lucky�? Oh, �cos Britney got there first, I guess. And how can anyone�s existence be considered a lucky fact? Did the songwriter just run out of words or something? Following this is an image that I love to make fun of (climbing mountains to show one�s love) but it�s put together so grotesquely you should wash away the image from your memory forever. It�s : �Baby I would climb the Andes solely to count the freckles on your body�. Say it together with me, people : ewwww � Chorus : �Whenever, wherever, we�ll learn to be together. I�ll be there and you�ll be near, and that�s the deal, my dear. They�re over, you�re under, you�ll never have to wonder, we can always play by ear, but that�s the deal my dear�. Huh? What was all that garbage about Distance all about? Was Distance up on the Andes or something, and our little Shakira climbed the mountains to count his freckles? As you ponder that, Shakira introduces even more characters into the mix. Who are the �they� that are over, and why is Distance under, if he was previously on top of the Andes having his freckles counted by Shakira. So how does this resolve? Don�t wonder, because we can always play by ear. Wonder about what? What is going on around here that we need to play anything, much less play it by ear? What in Princess Diana�s name is going on? Second verse of the song that she really wanted to call �Lucky� but came up against copyright laws. It starts off : �Lucky that my lips not only mumble, they spill kisses like a fountain�. And it is here that I have to commend Shakira for being honest. No, not because her lips are like a fountain, spilling kisses wherever she goes. (Now why didn�t the �songwriter� use �blowing kisses� instead? Dirty joke � geddit? Heh.) But at least she has the honesty to admit that she has been mumbling through the song so far. I don�t blame her. If I were given such appallingly bad lyrics to sing (and we�re not done yet), I�d mumble too. Before we get to the next line, get the brainwashing liquid out again, people. Here we go : �Lucky that my breasts are small and humble, so you don�t confuse them with mountains�. Now, for those of you who are mammarily-challenged (that�s a new word there), please take Shakira�s great advice. Because if your breasts are small and humble, you should jolly well consider yourself lucky because then no one would come along and mistake them for mountains! Wow. The lyrics are reaching such glorious, um, heights. That cheer you hear is the sound of all the flat-chested girls in the world jumping with joy, for they will never have to suffer the embarrassment of having some guy mistake their breasts for MOUNTAINS. Mountains, I tell you. Like Everest, you know! Next : �Lucky I have strong legs like my mother, to run for cover when I need it. And these two eyes are for no other, the day you leave, we�ll cry a river�. Wow, first we get the Andes, which Shakira and her breasts-who-are-not-like-mountains start climbing, then fountains, then mountains (some pathetic rhyming there) and also a river. Such rich topographical imagery. And then it�s the chorus again. And again. And again. Shakira, lucky you and your mumbling lucky lips, those strong lucky legs of yours, those eyes capable of spilling forth torrents of tears, and those small and humble breasts of yours, how lucky �cos any bigger and you climbing the Andes would surely have been quite a sight. You know, Shakira, whenever, wherever, you forgot something back there. Whatever. R.D.'s Rating : What's the deal, my dear? This is really a STRAY DAWG, who's just very lucky. (What's a STRAY DAWG? Check out R.D.'s rating system here.) Sound off!! Are you so well-endowed that people actually mistaken your big and obnoxious breasts for mountains? Wishing they were small and humble instead? Have you been haunted by the 'freckle' image that you're counting freckles in bed instead of sheep now? Or does this review make no sense - because Shakira just sings it so damn fast? Tell me here. |