The Singles Jukebox

Enrique conveys an emotion, but which…

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[3.27]

Brad Shoup: And so Mr. Iglesias’ breathtaking saga, his run of singles fleshing out the epic story of a creepy hottie who orders bottle service and just stares at you, comes to a full stop. Let’s take a minute to consider the scope of his achievement: “I Like It,” “Heartbeat,” “No Me Digas Que No,” “Tonight (I’m Lovin’ You),” all consecutively released. Just stunning. And along comes “Dirty Dancer,” a definitively perfunctory collaboration. Monotone verses, a pointless Usher appearance, Nayer’s puzzling, tuneless addition to the outro. Weezy sounds like he’s reading a children’s book to the bartender.
[2]

W.B. Swygart: So which one’s Phil Collins and which one’s Philip Bailey? (Lil Wayne is Oates, obv.)
[3]

Alfred Soto: Opening with a keyboard motif out of early nineties techno and Enrique interjecting “Here we go!” most unconvincingly in a career full of unconvincing interjections, this track gets bizzay before anyone’s had a chance to get acquainted. Why are these guys so enthusiastic about the chorus, anyway? On the evidence of their singing she’s not a “dirty” dancer so much as a soiled or rumpled one.
[3]

Michaela Drapes: It’s come to the point that anything produced by RedOne instantly gives me a tension headache. Is he familiar with the concept of dynamics, dramatic tension, subtlety? Anything besides ARTLESS, RELENTLESS BANGING BEATS THAT DO NOT LET UP? Adding to the annoyance, the weak guest bits feel cluelessly pasted in, all in the service of a rubbishy hook that goes nowhere. She’s a dirty dancer? She’s never lonely? You don’t say! Ugh, who cares?
[2]

Katherine St Asaph: “Dirty Dancer” ties only “Hey Baby (Drop It To The Floor)” for the most hilarious melodrama applied to the mundane. Dudes. Enrique. Usher. Wayne. Nayer, who really should’ve gotten an introduction before tottering into every other single because at least a third of the world thinks she’s also a dude. All of you: It’s just dancing. Some women –and men!– do this, and sometimes they even do more! But these Michael Bay synths and wails say nothing except “sex is evil and I am horny.”
[5]

Zach Lyon: Sample lines from the dirty dancer’s response song: “I danced for Enrique Iglesias tonight”; “I made a lot of money”; “He looked really sad”; “Going to heat up some lasagna and maybe get to bed early.”
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B Michael Payne: Who is this song for? It sounds like people ragging on a stripper for not being emotionally available. That seems kind of callow, though. Dirty dancers probably need to compartmentalize in order to get through a workday, right? I could see this song played in a strip club, but Usher and Enrique don’t seem to be doing much to differentiate themselves, and Lil Wayne’s just lazily opening his mouth in the shower — anything that gets in is gravy. 
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Matthew Harris: Ewwwww. I’d like to say something more, but… Ewwwwwww.
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Al Shipley: Wayne’s “it’s going down…depreciating” is like a superior revision of his “I’m down like the economy” line from another douchey dance pop song.
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Jonathan Bogart: Maybe I should explain that I’ve found Enrique Iglesias’ late resurgence to be stimulating, hugely enjoyable and underappreciated; that the swiping-effect synth lines which “Dirty Dancer” lifts from “Tonight (I’m [whatever]in’ You)” are among my favorite sounds of the last eight months in pop, destabilizing in the best way (which is to say that it reminds me of Ke$ha); and that while I’m not strictly interested in Usher’s hard-club-pop iteration of himself, I admire the vaguely anonymous way it’s kept him in the pop consciousness. But mostly this just isn’t as good as “I Like It” and “Tonight.”
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Hazel Robinson: As with all of Enrique’s dirty reboot, like the Mills & Boon sexy imprint, this is utterly ridiculous. Which is great, as utter ridiculousness merely reinforces to my ovaries that he is A Lovely Man. My thinky brain is also kind of interested by the way this seems to be a dissection of how hopelessly powerless menfolk are to a wiggly bottom. Overthinking this would be an error, though — if I get too far that way, I might start wondering what it would be like if it sampled Elton John.
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