The Singles Jukebox

Peter’s pick proves that we (mostly) still have time for house bangers…

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[6.00]

Peter Ryan: Lola Índigo’s path to Spanish pop prominence has has been a circuitous one, punctuated by nominally-unsuccessful stints (with plenty of time in between) on two reality competition shows (dance comp Fama Revolución in 2010, where she was fourth boot, and first out on the David Bisbal-spawning popstar boot-camp Operación Triunfo in 2017). And so it goes — ostensibly fueled by sheer force of will, in 2018 she re-launched with a stage name and a double-platinum debut single. She’s since notched three #1 albums and eight top-10 singles at home and collaborated with many of the current superstars of global Spanish-language pop, but anecdotally there’s a sense that the success might be a little soft, that her songs chart but evaporate quickly. “Corazones Rotos,” officially the fourth single from this year’s El Dragón, was marginally successful in a couple markets but by no means broke “the curse” (the album’s sixth single — “El Tonto,” a more typical reggaeton-lite-pop bit with Madrileño trap juggernaut Quevedo — finally accomplished that, going quintuple platinum and fast becoming her most popular song on streaming), but I’ve had it stuck on irrational loop since I heard it in a taxi in January, on a trip with spotty internet and lots of time for it to over-imprint. Índigo gives off a steely disillusionment; she’s a slyly effective vocalist, nasality belying the technique and intuitive sense involved in the little grace notes she wedges into syllables, or the weary fry she puts on words like “latas.” It nails the bleakness of hurdling headlong into the bad decision, brazenly shooting your shot with someone you know is still hung up on someone else, knowing how it’s all going to turn out — the descending melody on “Nunca / Me equivoco” cuts to the cold heart of it. Both verses start with the singer laying out what they know about the other, or what they want the other to know they know; it’s in service of selling a line, but there’s a clever friction between Lola’s part, which trades in clear-eyed realism as persuasive tactic (“Ya no eres de ella, se acabó el lio / No te asustes, tampoco mío”), and Luis’s cliched cajoling, like he’s talking to someone else entirely. It’s the tragedy of being the same boat but never quite seeing each other, the transitive property of dislocated desire, all over a corny schlager house bosh backdrop (ranking goofy production choices: 1) the first drop that’s heavier than it has any reason to be, 2) fake-out second drop; 3) the stupid turntable effect on the word “pide” after the second chorus). It’s not that deep — I’m an easy mark for a minor-key dance anthem with a double bridge and a manipulative melodic sense; El Dragón didn’t traffic all that much in this fare and she’s already put out another EP in a different lane entirely, but this is about everything I want from a big-label pop confection.
[9]

Ian Mathers: The most intriguing thing about this serviceable pop house sad banger is a certain vagueness in the lyrics (at least I think so; I’m relying on translations here, and these days probably machine ones). What is our narrator’s actual relationship towards the person who got dumped? Are she and Fonsi addressing each other or not? Are we really just drinking to forget here? Are the bandages just beers or are we trying to start something here? Inquiring minds want to know.
[6]

Will Adams: A competent house thumper that resides in its melancholic comfort zone. Those pumping piano chords at the last breakdown really amped things up; wish they’d stayed.
[6]

Nortey Dowuona: The guitar loop in the back is at once too thin and too thick. It takes up large part of the mix but doesn’t overpower Lola’s strong alto. It also can’t hold up once it’s swept aside for a slumping, half played baseline over nearly hidden bass drums and flat, papery snares, that’s supposed to move the hips but just juggles the brain juice. Luis’s soft tenor also can’t get a foothold in the guitar loop — it’s so thick in how it’s been played and processed the voices have to be constantly panned to keep sticking and jumping out, but really just remain stuck halfway, not sinking any further into the mix than they need to do to carry the song but too high to truly lift the melody they both end up singing by the last chorus in a way that plays to either of their strengths as duet partners. The chopped fragments also sink in the quicksand of the loop, clumsily arranged but rhythmless.
[4]

Michael Hong: The melody of the pre-chorus feels familiar but I can’t place it. Maybe that’s the experience of meeting someone on the dancefloor who faintly resembles someone you still love. Maybe the garage house beat will be enough to erase their existence.
[6]

Rose Stuart: As a fan of mixing acoustic ballads with club beats, I was enjoying “Corazones Rotos” right until the moment Luis Fonsi got handed the mic. The beautiful guitar refrain contrasts wonderfully with Lola Indigo’s husky vocals, but that contrast disappears with Fonsi. His voice is almost swallowed up by the music, and what remains is unpleasant to listen to. It’s a similar problem to Ed Sheeran’s “Shivers,” where the song itself almost rejects its singer. All I can say is that I hope Lola Indigo releases a solo version at some point. 
[5]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: A complete hodgepodge — it sounds like the two credited performers brought in separate drafts and tried to weld them together live in the studio, with only middling success. But each individual hook is just good enough, and Fonsi and Indigo are skilled enough interpreters, that “Corazones Rotos” works despite itself.
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