Hardcore Giddy Pop Bites Delight

Whatever Janet does to pass the time when there is nothing on TV or no new hardcore bisexual porn to download is anyones guess, but revving herself up with valium seems to have produced her 2004 lead-off single Just A Little While, yet another giddy pop bite sticking her tongue into such lines as "you know how much I love to do it" which just happens to fall flat on the floor like a hot potato, but let's not give the nympho anymore ideas. The far more appealing Peter Rauhofer Radio Edit spikes her feel-good nonesense with darker suggestions. Closer attention is payed to her sexually obsessed tid bits, which reveals a more lingering interest behind her dead-eyed lack of conviction.

Just A Little While (UK Radio Edit)
Just A Little While (Peter Rauhofer Radio Edit)

Glamorama

"Dear Plebs, it's Sophie Ellis-Bextor here!

Let's be kissy right off, I love being glamorous. It's just so fucking glamourous. When people think of 'Sexy Bexy' (that's what my local builders call me as I flash them through the window of my moving Citreon Saxo) - my expensive budget videos, the exotic studio locations, glamorous hair, glamorous make-up - they probably imagine I writhe in glamorous agony in my double bed all day, wearing one of my one-in-every-colour Monsoon dressing gowns whilst sipping Tesco's 'healthy option' hot chocolate, in a mug! I just think to myself whilst tilting my head at one of those akward angles I dislocate my jaw to create "why shatter the illusion Soph?"

Now I said I would write about my lifestyle here, so here goes. My darling husband is in a daring MOR indie band fronted by a fruit called The Feeling and I just love those filthy little indie boys, they are so delish and grimy. I adore a bit of rough. Like every posh English girl does I suppose. I also promised I would share some of my beloved beauty secrets - even though my crows feet look like someone has been at my face with a garden rake I do know a thing or two about kidding myself you know!

Number 1) A girl must always be glamorous in order to be glamorous, 8 days a week if she has to. When I run out of nail varnish I use my son's felt tip pens for a quick and easy application - yesterday I had yellow, blue, green and one nail that was just a bit minging from an infection I caught whilst rummaging through my neighbours bins for some vintage dresses I sometimes find to wear in my music videos, that is until I go to the shops and actually buy some fucking nail varnish of course.

Number 2) Never poo. Being glamorous has nothing to do with pushing anything out - in fact, I go under the knife to have my posh poo removed by posh doctors who wear gloves whilst operating. After I stop screaming, it is so easy for me to cease my faeces, and after Murder became a massive #2 single I knew I could never top it. Just yesterday, again, I was delighted to dislodge a comment that my song If I Can't Dance was a "great big pile of poo" from my very own messageboard - maybe they simply saw the room I get operated on. My fans like to keep track of my movement, in more ways than one.

Right I must be off, I seem to have sat on a Galaxy Ripple that has melted. It sure doesn't smell like Galaxy though..

Pah, mwah and blah,

Sophie Ellis B. xxxxxxx"

If I Can't Dance
Murder On The Dancefloor
If You Go

Verging On The Obscene

The breathtaking and exquisite union between Marie Fredriksson's succulently soulful yet punky vocals and the ready-to-burst songwriting/production voltage from Per Gessle is a thing of unmatched melting beauty and splendour. Roxette's deft knack for a hypnotic and heartwelting ballad or punchy duck-for-cover pop meteorite has sustained an unparalleled, undiminished 20 year career that has been nothing if not consistent. Such robust versatility became clear circa 1999 witrh their "comeback" album of sorts Have A Nice Day - a sure-fire return to form. "It's hard to tell his gender" was an obscene observation suggesting the Scandinavian pair hunt in pairs for gender-specific sexual partners. Marie's agonising dance diva capabilities were effortlessly flaunted to jaw-dropping effect with the luminous and galacial storm Stars - an unflinchingly committed performance so dazzling, daring and dramatic it is impossible not to imagine her belting this one out from an icicle fortress full of kidnapped children forced to sing along on the album version. The Almighty Radio Edit is the post-0800 call to child services and elevates the song into an unequivocal dance anthem. The Todd Terry Tee's Radio Mix of the first single I WIsh I Could Fly follows the haunting lead of Fredriksson's sublime sigh. Taking the bait, it decorates her poised and commanding vocal, cushioning it with chic, sharp and sleek house beats whilst keeping the original's overlapping strings that already fold over you in deadly seduction. This remix fades not quite abruptly, rather it bows out gracefully before one last vocal delectation finally vanishes with all trace.

Wish I Could Fly (Tees Radio Mix)
Wish I Could Fly (Radio - Fade Out Mix)
Wish I Could Fly (StoneBridge Club Mix)

Stars (Album Edit)
Stars (Almighty Radio Edit)

Dilluted and Dumbed Down

Engagingly trite conspiracy theory lyrics aside, Bis were very capable of bristling electro gems. Dead Wrestlers is one of their finest examples, second only to their most memorable top 40 hit Eurodisco - the brat gimmick is utilised more effectively than on earlier tracks and becomes more appealing with every listen. The gloriously arrogant line "your politics are pantomine" is a misplaced casual quip that was their stock, with the dual vocal dynamic succeeding to brag in spite of an obvious regret. It is a pity the initial attention granted to this Glaswegian outfit had all but faded by the time they were producing considerably better material such as this, which was not even on an album - their loyal fanbase did not miss out, but mainstream success clearly was not on the agenda.

Dead Wrestlers

C'mon Burst That Juice All Over Me

90s Euro duo Diva were what Shampoo might have sounded like if produced by Not Over Yet helmers Grace - a manic rave swirls and throbs into a ferocious fervor like unwanted mouthwash to be spat out by Traci Lords hurriedly trying to get a salty taste out of her mouth before her next scene. As they are moaning the lyrics of a-ha one can only imagine the girls actually having a pot mouth each to boot - a pervading tone of autotune is only broken by their not expected rap demmanding a shared lover/stranger to "come on burst that juice all over me" which takes the girls to new heights of 90s faceless group-shagging delirium (I guess a facial does wonders for the complexion afterall). In less sticky hands the load-spurting track could have turned into quivering nonsense as if hysterically trying to find kleenex to clean up the mess.

However, these 2 girls devote serious and sustained effort: their moist, plaintive and robotic vocals - which are no doubt hindered by proudly owning bee-stung lips that also add a cheerful melodrama by interfering with the already strained delivery - and alarming Pete-Burns-fisted-by-Christina-Aguilera resemblance round out a super fierce slut image far too hard boiled to play coy. The videos' theme of doing sexy things with their down-turned eyes conveys a ditached pathos complete with chimes reminiscent of the Real McCoy; belonging to the same era gives the track a special sharp authenticity providing nostalgic goosebumps at the hammering chorus. If you can imagine the girls of the playboy mansion having hoovered up a full bin of crack each then you are probably half way there - and if deep throat was a passage for musical expression of excessive distress, Diva would pout proudly at the pinnacle.

The Sun Always Shines On TV (Radio Edit)
The Sun Always Shines On TV (Original Version)
The Sun Always Shines On TV (Volcano Club Edit)
The Sun Always Shines On TV (Perfecto Mix)
The Sun Always Shines On TV (Sunshine Mix)
The Sun Always Shines On TV (Sexy Disco Dub)

Watch the video here.

Pre-Botox Wilderness Bliss

Back in the summer of 1997 Kylie came back into my life in a big way - this was a sweltering summer that sipped the sickly remnants of Gina G, introduced Gala's inferno and No Doubt, gave bible bitches Eternal their only UK #1, where Vanilla exposed themselves, and held its breath whilst the Spice Girls filmed their movie and recorded a second album, leaving fans to count the days as well as Pepsi Max cans. Kylie was partly out of sync with an invogorating pop boom of this time, but I did also momentarily believe Don't Speak was actually Minogue herself. Instead the lazy guitar slice Some Kind of Bliss became an obsession, Kylie's most unassuming and life-affirming track to date - the press could not swallow this and seriously went overboard harking on about 'Indie Kylie' which never really existed, and her belated Manic Street Preachers collab could only stab through to #22. Did It Again by her fair hands of design did better, #14, signalling an artist not content with just playing along. The Deconstruction days produced 6 very individual, elegant and accomplished singles that provide a legacy far stronger than much of what has came since it must be said. Here are some live files very kindly sent to me, which I thought I would share such is their overall nice-ness!

Some Kind of Bliss (Mark & Lard 1997)
Did It Again (Mark & Lard 1997)
Put Yourself In My Place (Simon Mayo 1995)
If You Don't Love Me (Simon Mayo 1995)

Bump & Grind From Behind

Michelle Gayle is her name and intimate mid-tempo Rn'B love grooves are her no-nonesense game. It is time for some serious straight-talkin' morning TV chatshow style neck-snapping, finger-waving fits of self-proclaimation, chair-throwing and step-father disowning showdowns - our Chelle's just not having any of it, not today! The funky opener Get Off My Back is a seductively malevolent jam with a delicious shadow of biting sharpness - its epeleptic scream-fest "my hommies know MEEE!" would make even Mel B Blush. Happy Just To Be With You was her Chic-shinning glory - her streetwise savviness to sample Good Times for the single release was a career high, but the album version here compliments her clear vision despite hitting the party more sober. After an initial heavy flow of sterile ballads, the record is solid enough and passes through with pride during the stronger second half where more jucier material settles. Excelling with pleasant,, faintly upbeat numbers, her true calling was quite obviously the poppier productions. 13 years on and Sweetness loses none of its undeniable giddy charm as one of the most luscious, brightest, nose-scrunchiest pop songs of the 90s. On the smoky ballad Personality, grounded Gayle spells it out as "cash ain't everythang." The briefly hilarious introduction to Freedom involves the type of typsy neo-camp conversation one might overhear whilst using public transport carrying lots of teenage Mothers. Gayle doesn't mince her words and is sporadically a force to be reckoned with when she finds the fertile ground to sprout the class to match the sass.

Get Off My Back
Happy Just To Be With You (Album Version)
Freedom
Personality
Sweetness

Crazy Kiani's Quivering Commitment

Well-meaning dancefloor whore Mary Kiani's vivid ability to think allows her the most economic of emotional functions that is the envy of all registered dance divas of a certain age: her gift is to make up unrestrained personal sufferring, pain and tragedy all in her own inappropriate, lonely imagination in an attempt to revamp her brittle love life. These days Kiani rarely steps out of her high rise let alone get tangled up in real life dramas demmanding a release from social phobia. A brief period of interaction meant the misguided masochist would drive around Glasgow, scrouring for intoxicated civillians to "make up the numbers, ken?" in her short-lived club/livingroom called Slave before Strathclyde police shut it down and shipped her to Australia.

Kiani's keen will for self-infliction is showcased no better than on the unflushable floater I Imagine - a song she dedicated to an unassuming 16 year old Burger King 'employee of the week' who suddenly disappeared after numerous requests from the singer to give the terrified underweight teenage acne sufferer a lift home, until the store manager gasped "he was just a temp you crazy bitch" after Mary held a used tampon to the man's throat, dunking it on a half-finished Chicken Royale as she strutted out with as much pride as a 'pilled' woman with one broken high heel and 5 top 40 hits under her chaffing belt possibly can. Only a stash of straws and sachets of tarter sauce spilling out from under her PVC mini-skirt came close to taking this victory away from her.

The Motiv8 edits rub the necessary lotion into her rash of aggrevated hits that simply flourish with blind 'is she high?' faith. They are some of Roadway's most flattering treatments - her baffling plights given generous care and are elevated into largely forgotten mid-90s anthems of victim pride. 100% is an intense, glistening avalanche of quivering Kiani commitment, sang so exhaustively she must have collapsed in a wheelchair immediately afterwards (the singer is also famous for her numerous insurance claims). The romantic veneer of I Imagine tackles her issues with mental health and is sheer bliss to behold - she couldn't seem happier if she were shoplifting in Frasers like the good old days. Mary Kiani may very well be the "hard-faced bitch" I have read about on various Glaswegian fixtures, but God and the Gays sure love a tryer.


100% (Motiv8 Edit)
When I Call Your Name (Motiv8 Special Club Mix)
I Imagine (Motiv8 Edit)
Let The Music Play (Perfecto Radio Edit)

Note: the copy of I Imagine I have uploaded is an 'in the mix' file from a compilation CD that is slightly extended than what appears on the CD single format.

Not The Face McCutcheon

Xeonomania rugby tackle Essex's very own J-Lo Martine 'not the face' McCutcheon to the ground with a routine makeover. Sadly they don't quite seem to have as much fun tarting up Martine as a full squad would - what should have been 'a moment, a perfect moment' of comedy dance cheese feels slightly ropey. Her remixes don't quite immortalize her status but do justify rekindling a fleeting pop period of remixes that often drugged their victims up to the eyeballs - it was the 90s afterall.

I'm Over You (Xeonomania Club Mix)
Perfect Moment (Sleaze Sisters Anthem)

It's Britney, bitch

I love how Brits is no longer being coy: gone is the "oops" - now it is more like "fuck it!"

Gimme More

Okay?

Pale skin is itching under a neon-lit fever of twisted heartache that is spat out with venomous sarcasm and splendid vitriol - on Say Hello, Wave Goodbye, bitterness and being miserable never sounded so sympathetic and defiant, as if getting hurt is this weeks currency for being magnificent in order to rub salt into the self-inflicted wound. A mist of alienation sweeps past Marc Almond as his devastating vocal cuts right to the gore of tragic partings undeserving of keeping in touch - collecting his ravishingly majestic dignity from being a secret lover of perhaps a married man, Marc mocks his ex-lovers' self-loathing, allowing the cad small remorse, the timing of "take a look at my face for the last time" is the frosty icing on the probably poisoned cake. The Almighty Radio Edit luminates what is already a classic into a solid introduction for the unknowing.

Say Hello, Wave Goodbye (Almighty Radio Edit)

Bisexual-Vibe Brilliance

Enigmatic Italian pop myth Gala Rizzatto is something of a visionary, yet her songs are far from impractical and imbued with a keenly absurd intellectual spirit. Freed From Desire translated something so instant into music that is genuinely inventive to this day - her concise lyrics are sometimes bonkers yet always marked by an altogether elegant enthusiasm that many other internationally famous Italian pop stars cannot compete with. Even a rumored speech impediment that tainted her early rise, when many understood her chorus to be a stammered pronunciation of Bananarama, could not put a stop to her mission and the spirited dance diva went on to sell over 6 million CD's that sometimes came with a free jar of Dolmio sauce in specific regions of southern Italy.

The sadistic, gender-bending Let A Boy Cry was theatrically ridiculous enough to serve as an unofficial relation to Dana International's humble signature Diva, holding her sexually ambiguous nerve with an arresting, androgynously flamboyant manner, and contemptuous feeling towards bigots as well as baguettes (a 'no carbs Gala' resulted in a worldwide spaghetti standstill that Italy's tabloids have still not forgiven her for - the Rizzatto clan were also famously exiled after the corrupt practices of the family business 'Rizzatto Risotto' finally went public). After 3 delirious number 1's in her native country, her next single Suddenly could only limp to a pathetic #4 despite Gala's blasse pleas to her home nation that a glass-free 'Rizzatto Risotto' shrimp and fennel recipe would soon restore her family's repuation.



The controversial carbs stance meant an impressive new slim-line physique accompanied her recent musical comeback of sorts - the characteristically dramatic single Faraway did not fare well in France, yet proved to be a top ten hit in Greece where it was also bizarrely covered by a pop idol contestant who took it to number 1. No album title has been given, but clips are up on www.galasound.com: A Different Kind of Love sounds like Holly V's electro-craving Desire with added Cher-isms, but on a budget; Do It vents impatient primal energy; and many others sound equally promising.

Who knows what will happen, but her next move should it be fuelled by either a record deal or national forgiveness promises to be worth waiting for. Through her strained singing, Gala has always grappled with her vocals to make them more interesting, transcending her limitations, which soon became distinctive to her brand of dance and striking iconography. Such a rare capture of bisexual-vibe beauty and mystique, so glamorous and sleek with triumph, it has been nearly a decade since she has last released music in the UK. Here is a timely reminder of her 2 biggest hits.

Faraway

Freed From Desire (Radio Edit)
Freed From Desire (Allister's Full Vocal Mix)
Freed From Desire (Q.F.X. Full Vocal Remix)
Freed From Desire (Da Loops Hype Mix)

Let A Boy Cry (Motiv8 Radio Mix)
Let A Boy Cry (Album Version)
Let A Boy Cry (Motiv8 Floormungus Vocal Mix)

Heaven So High

The majestic vocals of dance Queen Marcella Woods are a thing of exquisite execution - they surf the rising wave of then-boyfriend Matt Darey's foaming trance in hypnotic fashion. U Shine On was the follow-up to their top 10 hit Beautiful, yet could only slot into the lower reaches of the top 40 at #38. The song has left it's mark and manages to continually cummulate its allure without ever dipping. The mesmerizing effect of Marcella is evident with Matt continuing to remix their first collab Liberation - Temptation (Learn To Fly Like An Angel) each year since it's 1999 release (#21) - his 2005 edit is possibly my favourite, edging further adrift from trance into almost Jason Nevins style dance-pop territory. The alternative Stuart Crichton Radio Edit of Beautiful washes itself ashore, stripped down to flamenco guitars strumming as if engulfed by a sunset. Marcella remains as poised, elegant, and morbidly regal as ever - if these two erstwhile lovers never unite on record again they at least leave an enchanting legacy.

U Shine One
Liberation - Temptation (Matt Darey's 2005 Deeper Edit)
Beautiful (Stuart Crichton Radio Edit)
Marcella & Matt Megamix

Edit: a further, final, song Voice of An Angel was released as an E.P, but I am having issues locating my copy.

Stop, slow down, take a deep breath

What a thrill - Vicky B's sunkissed dance-slam My Love Is For Real has finally splat and positively melts like Rebecca Loos in the arms of husband David. Sounding like Inner City's Good Life sprayed out of an aerosol can in the middle of summer, I would give it full marks, full stop! This is the most natural and relaxed she has ever sounded, "tingling" stuff indeed. Alongside the singer's 'rexia bags' My Love Is For Real was the worst kept secret she refused to unveil, that is until now. Highly recommended.

My Love Is For Real

Hit the floor, don't be so unsure

As promised, Vitamin C's Japanese firecracker The Only One is here to snap, crackle and pop!

The Only One

Deep Fill Diva

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You're My Gays Now

In 1996 a to be seen Queen and crimson Antipodean raider was on the hunt for gays and adventure - dance was survival. From Australia, Gina Gardiner took aim for flamboyant boys and men who had disposable income to extravagantly purchase CD1's and CD2's, and came ashore to Britain choosing Eurovision - a stage in front of the largest collective of shameless homosexuals assembled in the world each year. A lifelong fanbase that could only dwindle was assured, inspiring yet another Goddess of chronic ironic disco to spend the rest of her career trying to recapture the mercilessly fleeting continental spotlight and an unforgettable facade she could never live up to with diminishing returns.

In 1996-1997 she seemed unstoppable, and whether she has shed the final frayed feather from her by now knackered and a bit whiffy boa remains to be seen. A daunting challenge lays ahead, but her album Fresh! marked a vital landmark of dance diva triumph. A dying breed notwithstanding, you really can't tell when these disco Dollies are going to show up. Having sold her soul to Steve Roadway for the price of one astonishing album and a half eaten packet of bagels, she seemingly has no commercial currency anymore and a significant recovery looks unlikely with every Eurovision serving as a cruel reminder of one of its biggest icons - one has to be concerned.

Motiv8's lightly whipped centre provided the artificial flavouring more irrisistable than a drip feed of glucose is to a bed-ridden diabetic without any limbs. Eurovision 1996 was a Holy war of pop music for gays that defined their future clubbing experience for one whole year exactly - in the space of six highly varied-but-similar and dynamic singles she managed to instill faith instituting her order of continual attack - defenceless drunken gays trapped on dancefloors until they found someone they had not shagged before to go home with had no other option but to endure being raped by her rampantly explosive eurodisco. Exhaustion ensewed and discerning gay music buyers started to anticipate her ingratiating assaults and it was speak to the hand girlfriend!

These days Gina travels the P.A circuit in her caravan - once more gathering gay men (sometimes in gigantic terrified piles) making them sweat and swear to buy her internet-only albums which she happily signs using their own blood or scat. When confronted, these prisoners sometimes simply collapse under her force, a mighty proposition of neverending NRG proclaiming turmoil to consume countless individuals in their tens.

Fresh! was a beguiling mission to endorse her charms, vulnerable and effeminate men without a Father figure itching for a cause struck a chord and were soon instigated or else beheaded. Sometimes often dragging her victims kicking and screaming - with Gina G the whole gay scene changed forever. Her gay club crusades undoubtedly changed pop, spawning a Hi-NRG craze unseen in Europe in the 1990s. Gays previously considered as a marginal music market saw an explosion of brilliance - music was previously an empty void, but Gina gave new opportunities to act and look tragic just by buying her records. Gays willing to be stereotyped could now luminate themselves in a frivolous way that somehow mattered to them. The sun inevitable set, isolating darkness followed as a long and uncertain wait for her sophomore album began..

To this day the turmoil consumes countless net droids as well as the same gays who go to the same gay clubs ten years later, all dreaming that at long last Gina G shall return with a hairflick on the horizon, her Hi-NRG muscle once more ready to be flexed and collect a body count.

'Urban' Euro-Phlegm

Another glistening tidal wave of euro-phlegm glucose is spat in the face of an uncaring world that the Urban Cookie Collective gathered themselves to depart from as if transmitting infectious grooves the best way they know how, or else is a sympathetic anthem for minority groups who like dance music (Gina G also tapped into this almost unheard of niche). The sticky bassline steers the warm current as the sibilating icicle synths arrive in a gust of stormy grandeur. This was the Urban Cookie Collective's 3rd single, nudging itself to #18 in the UK, falling short of their previous top 5 chart successes and yet remains a classic of early 90s rave-pop. Diane Charlemagne stretches her oral walls to provide her trademark plaintive vocal delivery, spitroasted in amongst the raving torrid calamity she is the sober commentator - there were more than a few druggy undertones to this act's material, although their heavy-handed spiritual iconography finds a nice harmony as Charle's sweet voice was not strong but had a light, slighty frayed smoothness to it. The happy union between soft vocals and tame rave suggestion are showcased effectively on their debut album High On A Happy Vibe: Yours Is The Love, Dreaming In Colours, the title track as well as the 3 singles - The Key The Secret, Feels Like Heaven and Sail Away. The slightly poncey Rohan Heathe always seemed to take himself very seriously, not to mention doing a bunker with the royalties whilst leaving his abandoned bandmembers left to find themselves a lawyer or else a job in Greggs, but he was at least moderately hot if you happen to like broody skinny guys with penetrating eyes who like dressing up as monks in order to create an 'image'. Their fleeting chart residency might not have sparked a long-lasting run, but their legacy has proved to be long-lasting with numerous by-numbers dance compilations confidently tracklisting singles number 1 and 2 as if no one has ever heard them. Sail Away euphorically conveys contempt and frustration towards social prejudice, lubricating the soluction to expell, and richly deserves a sharper reverberating profile.

Sail Away
Yours Is The Love
Dreaming In Colours
High On A Happy Vibe

Love Louise Style

Poking through her pandora's box, the Nurd's most explicit hardcore 'slam' Shut Up & Kiss Me rallies her most raw reportoire and demmanding pop agenda to date, waging no regard for polite conversation or personal appearance, she just wants 'mouth to mouth' justice. In full-on pre-WAG audacity mode it is clear for all, not only how she bagged the sometimes delish dish Jamie, but that she is thinking outside that box of hers.

Shut Up & Kiss Me
Pandora's Box

I Will Be Your Hetro Baby (Part 1)

Not many men shall penetrate my online diva shrine, but Enrique Iglesias is welcome to enter like a friend with benefits is in a phone book - he is there when you need him. His music is a lot of things, but often a triumph of shimmering Metro elegance or else over-produced pop dimensions. To think his 'mainstream' breakthrough might have been very different had it not been for Gina G's wistfull flamenco flutter Ti Amo is a valid point. His 'debut' was a full stomach of often hard to digest romance - thankfully Metro added that rather special seductive gelid dancefloor teasing glint that defines half of his trademark sound even to this day with the recent hit Do You Know.

On Enrique it is clear considerable calculation had gone into the affair - Rick Nowells & Billy Steinberg snatch the pay check and dutifully deliver the precautious, albeit highly generic, I Have Always Loved You, Sad Eyes is a believably maudlin Bruce Springstein cover and Madonna's former collab-whore Patrick Leonard certifies the qualified mid-tempo slice I'm Your Man. Frankly, a cover of La Isla Bonita would have been a revelation.

On his own merits, if it had not been for the hot air of Bailamos, Oye Me is imaginable as his only other shot here at giving Ricky Martin any serious package-packing chart contention even if it is admittedly tepid and trite. 2nd single Rhythm Divine is the best thing here, dripping with flourishing beauty, and Be With You was an American #1. Whitney Houston's chemistry-free duet blows up in smoke and watch the video here to realize how alarmingly asexual Enrique can appear at times. You're My #1 is another pause for thought ballad wherein he tried for a second time to demonstrate his hetrosexuality much more confidently with Alsou, but this album version is a solo climax.

With Enrique, Enrique mounted a pop ballad crusade that shows the beginning of his grand construction as a worldwide pop idol. He would find a more fitting persona in his subsequently more polished albums, but this record offers an innocent contrived charm and even contains the odd gem or otherwise sporadic glimpse of a performer poised for a grander scale.

Rhythm Divine
Be With You
I'm Your Man
Bailamos