Shakira was much more subtle when García Márquez publicly acknowledged his rapture and admiration –“a Barranquillera with a red bone”, he wrote to her with rapture– and she answered him –“There is no more heaven, there is no more / There is no more wind, there is no / No there is no more ice, there is no/ There is no more fire, there is no,/ There is no more life, there is no»– with songs like those composed for the film adaptation of 'Love in the Times of Cholera'. Now Shakira dedicates herself to explaining the meaning of her lyrics, much more plans, and the motivation of her singing, much more singing. She does it through Instagram, from where she dictates a solemn declaration of female empowerment that is to pop what Rocío Carrasco's “She doesn't have a pussy” on television. The two were going for money and they touched themselves in symbols of progress while they filled the baskets. Shakira was much more subtle when, without giving up the confessional tone that impregnated her work, she racked her brains for poetry of suffering. The current market –not only pop– leads to immaturity, and there is the author of 'Blind, deaf-mute' trying to shed years and abilities. The public is not there for delicacies, nor to jump to the height of pieces like 'Quiero tu nonom olvidar', by Vainica Doble, or 'Por amor al commerce', by the Enlightened, to say it and sing it in Christian. In this abbreviated anthology of reproach, Paquita la del Barrio reappears, whom the algorithm that backbones and globalizes our mass culture places as the maximum and even sole reference of spite and reproach, vulgarized for the canteen audience to which the news is always directed. mexican singer. The beauty of pain gives way to the ugliness of hate, and it is at this point in the puzzle where the section of dedicated records comes in, which is presented weekly by an opinion leader, from the radio sector, who speaks of the coexistence prescribed by the Government. according to which ailments and always through self-diagnosis. -Hello. I'm calling to dedicate 'Rata de dos patas' by Paquita la del Barrio to Vox. —Subscribe to his dedication. This happened last Friday, around noon and strictly direct. The catechist of dialogue and encounter, depending on which ailments, shamelessly and with complicit laughter subscribes to the dedication to Vox of 'Rata de dos patas', a hymn of the tavern settlement of scores, rediscovered in the cultural site exploited in the open air by Shakira. There are great hate songs, some as exquisite as those composed by Leonard Cohen, and there are hardly filtered expressions of resentment, served up to an audience that goes from cavernous erection to mental delusion based on a simple chorus. Maximum simplicity. What is valid for the platforms that distribute the pop charts, chained by an algorithm, is valid for the developers of the Executive's programs of dialogue, understanding and coexistence. Shakira's is nothing more than a successful passenger, to use and throw away, like a Colombian girlfriend. Hate political dedications, on the other hand, are an essential part of the campaign for this new/old season.
