JENNIFER LOPEZ — ‘Play’
When Madonna asks the DJ to put a record on (so she can dance with her bay-bay), it’s a congenial request from a music fan to get this party started right. No pressure, no stress — just a girl looking at a boy, waiting for a good song. When J. Lo ‘asks’ for a request, though, it’s after sitting around all freakin’ day, waiting, waiting, anticipay-ay-ting. You know, when someone’s really insistent on something — say, a friend, or (better yet) a co-worker that thinks they’re your friend? They start pestering you again & again & again, wanting you to do them a favor yesterday? You get annoyed, right? Like, for instance, if a friend (or that damn co-worker) at a party you’re throwing REALLY wants to hear ‘Unbroken Chain’ by the Grateful Dead, but you know better than to do that. Stupid Deadheads. Well, eventually, when you’re not looking, or you’re relaxing, or you’re out getting some Taco Bell, that friend is going to put on ‘Unbroken Chain’. And they’re going to turn it up. And they’re going to make Phil Lesh sound like Mariah Carey, the way they’re moaning & groaning & mewling. And you had better hope you’re not home when this happens, unless you like this sort of pain.
I mean, it’s bad enough that the song J. Lo wants on as she dryhumps the bass amp seems to be a bloop-happy ‘Music’ knock-off with the guitar lick from Prince’s ‘Kiss’ thrown in for bad measure. But when J. Lo starts cussing at the DJ to play her motherf***in’ song, just so she can get her schwerve on with some non-Puff diddy, I hold out hope that the bouncers will grab Ms. Lopez and deposit her slimmed derierre back on the street so she can learn a lesson. For instance — if you make movies with a crap director and a crap script, you’ll end up with crap. Oddly enough, you end up at the same stinkhole if you make crap songs with crap producers (nice, stylish videos notwithstanding). I’ll give her some kudos for redeeming the Mecha-Christina superfro. Otherwise, I can’t say I’m too happy. She hasn’t been the same since Out of Sight. Damn it. (Where’s Steven Soderbergh when you need him?)