If money is the great influence, then call
Enrique Iglesias
the most influential Latin music artist in the world, having sold a
record-breaking number of albums over a stretch of several years. With
Escape,
his sophomore English-language release, he brings the whole Latin
Invasion to a screeching halt, or "maybe" a gentle halt, making for an
opportune screeching question: Have Latins traded in their musical roots
for the American musical dream? When Latin-flavored music came flooding
into the United States in the late '90s, it sounded a lot more, well,
"Latin" than it sounds these days. Repetition and popularity certainly
have something to do with it, and keep in mind that the likes of
Ricky Martin,
Christina Aguilera, and
Jennifer Lopez have had the benefit of hits from American pop writer heavyweights like
Diane Warren,
Carl Sturken, and
Evan Rogers. Here, however, is an album executive produced by and with every song written (with collaborators) by
Iglesias.
The musical result is not exactly consecrated to his native country of
Spain, nor his Miami upbringing. Touring with musicians from the bands
of
Billy Joel,
Elton John, and
Bruce Springsteen might have shaken loose the rock soul inside of him.
Escape
is a pop/rock album through and through, and it is also reminiscent of
classic pop albums of the 1980s -- short (ten original songs), sweet,
and wildly catchy. It is not without Spanish flavor, if only for
Iglesias' pronunciations and three added Spanish-version tracks; it just has other priorities in mind. Though
Iglesias'
songs always turn up as remixes and at dance clubs, and though he could
just as easily thicken the sound effects to overtake the basic
melodies, he remains reserved in sound and lyric. On "One Night Stand,"
he makes reference to intimate belongings left behind by his
"girlfriend." There is such a childlike vulnerability in his voice that
listeners get the impression this scenario may not have ever happened to
him.
While
Escape
is not excessively stylized, it is meticulously styled in the way great
albums are, where surprises are hidden in every corner. The surprises
here include hushed female vocals that glide into the choruses (most
notably on "Don't Turn Off the Lights") and the rippling echoes and
vocal distortions that begin on the title track and run like a theme
throughout the rest of the album. There are also the natural gifts that
he brings, his singing for one, which is both trembling and direct -- he
creates anticipation for the moments when he will break the latter
syllables of a word into a lilting high note or an unyielding holler. No
one will ever blame
Iglesias
for lack of emotion and, if his music inspires heart tugging, his voice
-- always in control even when it sounds on the verge of tears -- is
the culprit. He may milk it excessively on a drippy ballad like "Love to
See You Cry," but it is perfect for the beautiful "Hero." Elsewhere,
driven by guitar strumming and drum rattling, "Maybe" carries the
essence of the whole album. The simplicity of the lyrics "Maybe you'll
say that you want me, maybe you'll say that you won't" will not earn
high points with art appraisers, but the day pop music demands intellect
over emotion is the day love songs serve no purpose. Some people have
questioned how "Hero," a song about longing for romantic love, was
accepted as an anthem for the World Trade Center tragedy. Despite lyrics
like "Would you tremble if I touch your lips," it makes sense. At the
time of its release, in the wake of war and broken hearts,
Iglesias'
new album, and indeed the song "Hero," are a reminder that love, no
matter how seemingly out of reach, is the conquering force. Maybe the
Latin Invasion has ended. Maybe Latin musical roots are now growing in
American listeners in the same way American rock has been ingrained into
other cultures for years. And maybe that is why
Escape
is not just an English-language album by a Spanish artist, it is a
universal album about love. Love is a greater influence than money and,
as
Iglesias sings, "In the end, our love mattered."
tags: enrique iglesias, escape, 2001, flac,
