Urban Contemporary, 2001
In J.Lo, Jennifer Lopez’s production team drowns her paper-thin voice with more talented background singers. How these background singers must hate Ms Lopez – she gets all the limelight because she has a great body and big butt. Life is so unfair. Speaking of butts, if you say J. Lo fast, you’ll be saying in Malay a very rude slang word whose PG-13 equivalent will be “poke”. Hmmm.
Here, Ms Lopez doesn’t even take risks, rehashing the same old radio-friendly R&B-lite stuff she did for her debut album. Good tunes? Floor stomper Play grooves, although it is nothing more than a carbon copy of Madonna’s Music. I love that line that goes “Hey DJ, play my motherfucking song!” I’m Real is not bad too. And that’s it. Everything else is safe, dull paint-by-numbers music that get more and more irritating with each replay, especially that first single Love Don’t Cost a Thing, that tragic La Isla Bonita-wannabe Ain’t It Funny, and the boring ballads.
And it’s tragic too that the hooks – choruses and all – are carried by background singers with more vocal virtuoso than our diva has in her thumb. Poor sad background singers, really. They screech and wail their way through the chorus while Ms Lopez here just warbles shakily on the verses and ad-libs in the choruses. Life sure is unfair, huh.