RCA
Pop, 2024

Enrique Iglesias is like that ex-boyfriend who insists on serenading you at 2 AM. It’s wholesome and charming, but you’re left wondering if earplugs might be a good investment. Final (Vol.2) is supposedly his grand finale, but instead of going out with a bang, it’s more of a polite cough.

There are some good tunes here. The album kicks off with Fria, featuring Yotuel, a tune so catchy it’ll have you singing “Fria! Fria! Fria!” in your sleep. It’s the musical equivalent of brain freeze—you can’t shake it, but you’re not sure you want to. La Botella stands out as the album’s crown jewel, a party anthem that’ll transport you back to your glory days. It’s like finding that one perfectly preserved lime in the back of your fridge, unexpectedly fresh and zesty.

However, Mr Iglesias himself sounds about as enthused as a sloth on sedatives. His vocals have all the passion of a GPS navigation system reciting “turn left in 200 meters”. It’s as if he outsourced his singing to an AI that was trained on a Windows 95 text-to-speech program.

This is especially evident in the ballads. They’re supposed to tug at your heartstrings, but Mr Iglesias’s robotic delivery makes it feel like your heartstrings are being tugged by a malfunctioning vending machine.

In the end, this album is as memorable as a beige wall in a beige room. Except for La Botella, most of the tracks evaporate from your mind faster than spilled tequila on a hot dance floor.

So, is this truly Enrique Iglesias’s final curtain call? If so, Final (Vol. 2) is like a lukewarm goodbye hug from a distant relative. You appreciate the gesture, but you’re not quite sure what to do with it. Here’s hoping he finds his misplaced mojo in time for Final (Vol. 3): This Time We Mean It.