06 November 2006

Silly song

Sometimes a song - even a silly pop song - can turn into a vivid memory of past events, whether they are positive or negative. Or one's mind may confuse a singer's music and forget which song was which, or which memory belongs to what single. Or one may finally realize why their like for a singer has faded. Or maybe it's just me?

Case in point: Two Shakira songs - La Tortura and Hips Don't Lie. Both overplayed on the radio, both the type that stick in your mind whether you want them to or not. At some point in time, I was very fond of both tunes, although now the latter is unbearable to hear and the first is tainted because of that. Here's the confusing progression:

April 2005: Amsterdam, watching TMF and cleaning the apartment. My clean living space, and Shakira writhing on a table with Alejandro Sanz, and slicing onions with a butcher knife. (La Tortura)

June 2005: Madrid, jamming live with Shakira and Alejandro Sanz in Puerta de Alcal'a. We could only believe they were really there, as the crowd was so huge that we were at least half a mile from the large performance. An experience not forgotten, although the people I was with are. (La Tortura)

October 2005
: Minnesota, printing the lyrics in order to help improve my Spanish. Discovering that it's really fun to sing in a foreign language. (La Tortura)


---eight month break---


June 2006: Minnesota, downloading the song during a dance craze phase and wishing I could dance samba. Loving the Hip-Hop-Shakira combo. (Hips Don't Lie)

August 2006
: Amsterdam, looking up the lyrics online with a friend and mocking them. Spending a ridiculous amount of time realizing how absurd and repulsive the lyrics actually are. (Hips Don't Lie)

September 2006
: Leiden, realizing that I could no longer listen to the song without sneering, and sadly deleting it from my running playlist. (Hips Don't Lie)

November 2006: Palma de Mallorca, listening to the Shakira CD in a car, from a VIP's collection. For the first time, distinguishing the songs from each other, but sadly realizing that I have made a ghastly error: I have intellectualized Shakira lyrics, and will no longer be able to like them mindlessly. (La Tortura, Hips Don't Lie)

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