As always when sauce is involved, The Pearl it is the candidate par excellence to become the most discussed, hummed and played song Lux, that fourth Rosalía album that humanity has decided to scrutinize line by line and on which even the last earthling with a Wi-Fi connection will end up having their own opinion. Berghain For now it remains comfortably in first place in terms of listening on digital platforms, as it served as a preview two weeks before the full album’s release (sorry for the redundancy). But the diatribe against this “emotional terrorist” who deserves the “Olympic gold medal for the most bastard” has aroused smiles, sympathy, sisterhood and, obviously, speculation on the final recipient of the diatribe. The Catalan artist herself, passing through, did it on Monday The revolt (TVE), because the songs always have “part of reality and fiction” since there are “many, many pearls” that would have contributed with their grains of sand to forge that presumptuous, egocentric and detestable character that emerges in the seventh version of the album.
Of course, Rauw Alejandro has every chance of being mentioned, and even more so if we add the little detail that La Perla is the name of his home neighborhood in Puerto Rico. Do any brushstrokes or personality traits of the artist C. Tangana or the actor Jeremy Allen White creep in, to talk about other illustrious ex-couples? It could be, judging by the conditions of the pearl as one and trill. But it seems more likely that the song that monopolizes all the gossip is revenge on a cold plate in front Hayami Hana, that self-discussion manifesto with which the one from San Juan tried to formalize the agreement with elegance: “I will be many things, but never unfaithful. She has always had the key to my cell phone”.
AND The Pearl a “Mexican style” adaptation of Shakira’s famous attack on Piqué in the Bizarrap studio, that of “women don’t cry anymore, women do the math”? This is the most explicit, recent and vitriolic antecedent of this subgenre of female songs of spite against solemnly bad ex-boyfriends, and it seems likely that Rosalía Vila had it in mind as she sharpened her pencil and shot that “collector of bras” (another obvious evil, it seems, against Alejandro) that merits consideration as “the world’s greatest disaster.” Now, what other musical monuments to pain come together in these 3 minutes and 13 seconds that occupy all after-dinner conversations?
It seems obvious that sources of inspiration should under no circumstances include them 50 ways to leave your lover (Fifty Ways to Ditch Your Lover), that humorous and poisonous song by Paul Simon which is now exactly half a century old. One of the more unusual details in Broncano’s interview on Monday was the claim that the author of Motomami I didn’t have the slightest idea Graceland (1986), the New York singer-songwriter’s South African album and one of the most influential albums of the last half century (this also didn’t sound familiar). MaieuticsRobe Iniesta’s 2021 album, in case you want to make your case for the music-loving wonder). But if we imagine other more plausible influences, these emerge:
That man, by Rocio Jurado (1979)
Those reviled today boomers (as if one were to blame the year of birth) they grew up with this verbose diatribe of the Chipionera against that “vain, reckless and presumptuous clown. / False, dwarf, spiteful, who has no heart”. It seems difficult to match such a series of grievances, but the most fascinating thing about such a memorable outburst is that the perpetrator’s pen was in the hands of a man: Don Manuel Alejandro, evidently. It doesn’t matter what citizen Alejandro (Manuel Álvarez-Beigbeder Pérez), awarded at the age of 92 less than two weeks ago at the BIME fair in Bilbao, thinks in his private life: when he wrote for the Jury, it was the Jury.
two-legged rat, by Paquita la del Barrio (2004)
No possible influence has been cited in Rosalía’s ideology as much as this monument to the fury against the undocumented machorro that ranchera artist Francisca Viveros Barranda invented 20 years ago, just when our fellow Generation Xers were in their prime. Its author, Manuel Eduardo Toscano, had so sublimated the anger expressed by Rocío Jurado a quarter of a century earlier that, by way of comparison, that man It seems like a tender and conciliatory ballad. If you want a real, unadulterated rush of bile, think of phrases like “Spectre from Hell,” “Damn parasites,” “Snake snake,” or “Scum of life, ill-made eyesore.” We tried to overcome the bar, but we confess, humble and tormented, our inability.
I forgot you existedby Taylor Swift (2019)
The greatest female icon of the 21st century (until our friend from Sant Esteve Sesrovires ends up ousting her) had the ability and ability to bear witness to her love adventures album after album, so she could see firsthand how love things went for her. More: if they have someone good fast In your contact list, ask them what their romantic future looks like based on which Taylor song their boyfriend or girlfriend sings the most in the shower (and stick to the consequences). The song that opened the album in 2019 loversthe megastar’s seventh work, it is far from being among the best known in his catalogue; In fact, she only performed it live a couple of times during the mammoth The Eras Tour, the one that took her to the Santiago Bernabéu in May 2024. It doesn’t matter: the Olympian contempt conveyed by that “I forgot you existed. / It’s neither love nor hate, but just indifference” is the best musical synthesis that millennials have come up with to slam the door loudly. Skilled as always, the one from Pennsylvania called as co-authors Louis Bell and Frank Dukes, the coveted signatories of Havana (Camila Cabello) or that Sucker which marked the rebirth of the Jonas Brothers.
I haven’t changed my number, by Billie Eilish (2021)
The now ubiquitous members of the Gene Z (the children of the new century: envy them) have found in this Californian from 2001 the lighthouse and the most unequivocal reference for their pride and their frustrations, which is why we entrust to her the great hymn in the face of all the prevailing criticism. And the answer is as cryptic as it is brilliant: instead of letting out toads and snakes, Eilish simply notes to keep the same phone number intact as always, to make her ex understand that she doesn’t answer his calls because she really doesn’t feel like it. No foaming at the mouth: contempt and lack of appreciation had never gone this far. The verisimilitude is so clear that the text warns: “Laura said he should be nicer…, but not to you.” The person questioned is not a fictional character, but Laura Ramsay, the singer’s personal assistant since 2019.
