Shakira’s first album of this decade, Las Mujeres Ya No Lloran, is something of a yin to the yang of El Dorado (the record she released seven years ago, and her last one of the 2010s). Where the latter commences with the upbeat, jubilant “Me Enamoré,” Las Mujeres Ya No Lloran, begins with “Puntería”—which, yes, is also upbeat and jubilant, but not in the “I’m so in love” way. More like in the “I’m more resistant to love than ever” way (when the video is also factored in, it becomes the “I’m going to shoot any [half-]man who trifles with me via an arrow” way). Indeed, when comparing the opening lines of “Me Enamoré” in English (which, true, never sound as good as they do in Spanish), the contrast is stark: “Life began to change me/The night I met you I had little to lose/And things continued like this/Me with my striped bra/And my hair half-done I thought: ‘This is still a child/But what am I going to do?’/It’s what I was looking for/The doctor recommending/I thought he was dreaming, oh-oh, oh-oh/I fell in love, I fell in love.”
Clearly, this was still a period when Shakira had romantic feelings for Gerard Piqué, who she would end up separating from after eleven years together (though the two never married). Not long after their separation in June of 2022, Piqué was seen at a concert with Clara Martí, a woman ten years his junior (where once he favored a woman ten years his senior in Shakira). At the time, it seemed unclear just how long the two were really together, with suspicions swirling over whether Piqué had her waiting in the wings before breaking it off with Shakira or if he was already cheating on her before the breakup. If it was the former, his effrontery remained regardless for, as Olivia Rodrigo put it on “traitor,” “You’d talk to her/When we were together/Loved you at your worst/But that didn’t matter/It took you two weeks /To go off and date her/Guess you didn’t cheat/But you’re still a traitor.”
Shakira appears to be done with such “creatures.” And yes, it’s no coincidence that she renders the men in the video for “Puntería” as just that: creatures. Specifically, centaurs. Such a conceit for the video premise seems to mirror the fact that Shakira views men, at this moment in time, as little beasts. Albeit ones she can still control—though the lyrics to the song belie the presentation of that in the video. For Shakira still can’t help but expressing some semblance of vulnerability, despite all she’s been through, with the lyrics, “You have good aim/You know where to give me, so that I am surrendered/It attacks me where it hurts the most, you don’t suit me/But in your bed or mine, I forget all that.” Except that, in the video, she’s the one acting in the role of “aimer,” aggressor. Flipping the script on the traditional expectation that a man is the pursuer in a romantic dynamic. Perhaps what Shakira is trying to tell us is that, from now on, she’ll never play the vulnerable role again. Or, as she phrased it to Jimmy Fallon while promoting the album on The Tonight Show, “Women no longer cry… Because it’s men’s turn now.”
So it is that she gives insight into why she named her record Las Mujeres Ya No Lloran (that’s right, Women No Longer Cry—for Argentina or any man). She also commented on the long wait fans endured for a new album, finding a chance to shade Piqué again with the dig, “I’ve been putting out music here and there, but it was really hard for me to put together a body of work—I didn’t have time. It was the husband factor. Now I’m husbandless…yeah, the husband was dragging me down. Now I’m free. Now I can actually work.” Even though Piqué was never really her husband (so much as her “domestic partner”), there’s no denying the sting of her words. The idea she wants to get across that to have a boyfriend or husband is a major time suck for women. Time she patently wishes she hadn’t sacrificed in exchange for compromising her musical output. Another pop star of late (one whose musical output, granted, hasn’t been sacrificed at all) that’s enraged about doling out too much of her time to a man who wasn’t worth it is Taylor Swift. Namely on “So Long, London” from The Tortured Poets Department. It is during this song that she laments, “And I’m pissed off you let me give you all that youth for free.”
There’s no denying some part of Shakira must feel that way about Piqué, and she’s not even as young as Swift (even though she certainly looks as young…and sometimes younger). But that’s not going to stop her from alchemizing her pain…the same way Swift and so many female musicians do in the emotional aftermath of a breakup (shit, Swift even has a song called “The Alchemy” on TTPD).
As for being one of Billie Eilish’s worst nightmares by releasing different vinyl variants of the record, Shakira said of naming her various editions after gems (i.e., Diamond, Ruby, Emerald and Sapphire), “It felt like an alchemical [there’s that word] process where I was transforming pain and anger and frustration into creativity and productivity and strength and resilience… That’s why I picked the metaphor of the precious stones, because of the resilience that us women have today, um, when we have to face adversity.” And, as far as Shakira is concerned, just because a girl is facing some adversity doesn’t mean she can’t dance through la tortura (si, a nod to her 2005 single). Just as she does on the appropriately titled “La Fuerte” (“The Strong”) featuring Bizarrap (who also produces). Its late 90s/early 00s dance vibe betrays the sadness Shakira expresses when she bemoans, “De haber sabido que iba a ser la última vez/Te hubiera gozado más, pero no te aproveché/Y por creer que no tenías caducidad/Guardé besos pa’ despué’, con las ganas me quedé/Te mentiría si digo que ver mis fotos contigo no me hacen daño/Porque hacen daño.” Meaning: “If I had known it would be the last time/I would have enjoyed you more, but I didn’t take advantage of you/And for believing that you had no expiration date/I saved kisses for later, I was left with the desire/I would be lying to you if I said that seeing my photos with you doesn’t hurt me/Because they hurt.”
Shakira admitting Piqué was as much the inspiration for a woeful track like this as he is a vengeful one like “Shakira: Bzrp Music Sessions, Vol. 53” is unlikely. But who else could incite her to sing a line such as, “I deleted your number, and for what?/Yes I already know/I don’t forget you/No matter how apparent.” What’s apparent as well is her increasing affinity for wolves (as a woman who runs with them), making sure to make the usual comparison between herself and a “loba” (“Olvidarte yo trato, pero a esta loba le da el arrebato”). She even adds in another animal metaphor with, “Me siento como leona enjaula’.” Because, sometimes, a recently jilted woman feels the ferocity of several formerly caged animals.
And yet, for as angry as a “loba” can get, that doesn’t mean said anger isn’t rooted in a certain wistfulness and yearning, as a title like “Tiempo Sin Verte” (“Time Without Seeing You”) indicates. Another uptempo track that betrays the melancholic lyrics themselves, Shakira dives right into her lament with the pronouncement, “I haven’t seen you in a while and I’m still here/And not a day goes by that I don’t think of you/I haven’t seen you for a while and tell me if/You still love me and remember me/And what has become of you?/You left a while ago/Did you forget to call me or was it just a mistake?/Did you also forget those moments or miss them?/When we laughed together on the waves/I have always believed you my friend/Now I don’t know, I feel like you never were/With your absence you have left a void in me” (a.k.a.: “Llevo tiempo sin verte y sigo aquí/Y no pasa un día que no piense en ti/Llevo tiempo sin verte/Y dime si Aún me quieres y te acuerdas de mí/¿Y qué ha sido de ti?/Hace rato te fuiste/¿Olvidaste llamarme o fue solo un despiste?/Olvidaste también esos momentos o añoras/Cuando reíamos juntos sobre las olas/Yo que siempre te he creído mi amigo/Ahora no sé, siento que nunca lo has sido/Has dejado con tu ausencia un vacío en mí”).
The upbeat whimsy of the music itself on Las Mujeres Ya No Lloran continues with “Cohete” featuring Rauw Alejandro (marking the first of two appearances he has on the record), but, this time, the lyrical content is just as buoyant, too. With a title like “Cohete” (“Rocket”), it’s only to be expected that Shakira and Alejandro should make some interplanetary (and sexual) references. This includes, “I don’t want the moon or go to Mars, no I just want to make you come for me/Take off and come, I want to see you/I’ll make you fly like a rocket.” Yes, it’s very sensual (especially in Spanish—and, again, such phrases are carried off with more efficacy in that language), but it’s also some pretty big talk. Hopefully, Alejandro and those like him can back it up. Otherwise, Shakira will have his head…and not in the sexual way so much as the decapitating one.
Alas, Shakira can’t help but return to her more baleful motif on “Entre (Parentésis)” featuring Grupo Frontera. Although “El Jefe” was the first single from the album to establish Shakira’s talent for dabbling in the regional Mexican genre, this is the song that comes before it. Its mid-tempo pace complements lead singer Adelaido “Payo” Solís III’s rueful opening, “Tell me what happened to you, why do I feel cold?/Your kisses no longer taste like they used to/You still sleep in my bed/But I feel empty.” Shakira then dives in with her own grievances, adding, “Tell me what happened to you, you are no longer the same as before/It seems that this is not important to you/There are things in life so obvious that it is not even necessary to say.” And the two keep going back and forth like that for the duration of the song. Thus, it has the feel of a “he said, she said” track in the vein of The Postal Service’s “Nothing Better” and Gotye featuring Kimbra’s “Somebody That I Used To Know.”
And yet, it seems, more often than not (based on the consistently nostalgic lyrics of the record), that Shakira wouldn’t trade any of the good times she had with her erstwhile lover for the inevitable ultimate “bad” one: the relationship rupture. So it is that the fundamental “thesis” of “Cómo Dónde y Cuándo” (“How, Where and When”) is its chorus: “No matter how, where and when/What matters is with whom/Time flies/When things are going well, eh, eh.” And when they’re not, it soon becomes as though it’s all over before it could begin. Shakira could have easily felt that way, even after eleven years with Piqué that suddenly seemed rather short once the love was ripped away from her.
At another point in the song, Shakira gets unexpectedly “political” in terms of her critique of humanity, declaring, “There are so many lies in the cities/How is there so much garbage in the seas?/There is no one honest left/Only drunks in bars.” That last part being a non sequitur backhanded compliment toward people who still like to drink in that antiquated milieu called a bar, but, hey, at least she’s taking an environmental stand (even while antithetically releasing many vinyl variants of her album). The alt-rockish feel of the track is also something of a callback to her Dónde Están los Ladrones? days, which perhaps means she’s interested in getting reacquainted with that version of herself, as it’s from a time long before Piqué came along to further taint her faith in (male) humanity.
The softer sound and more dulcet tones of “Nassau” find Shakira returning to a state of emotional openness to a potential “new person” (read: new dick) in her life. To Long Islanders’ dismay, the Nassau Shakira refers to here isn’t the county in New York, but, obviously, the picturesque capital of the Bahamas. A place that fits the bill for Shakira’s request, “Take me to a place with no signal/And I get lost with you.” Even though, sure, Shakira has the money to find wi-fi wherever she goes, it’s “romantic” for her to think she can go “off the grid” somehow. Plus, without the internet as a distraction, it leaves more time for vacation sex. Thus her description, “After doing it without stopping/We repeat it.” Nonetheless, “la loba” can’t avoid admitting she’s still afraid to open her heart (though not her vag) to someone ever again after what happened. As she puts it, “I who had promised that I would never love again/You showed up, heal the wounds left by that one.” And we all know “that one” is Piqué. A man who did such a number on her trust abilities that she also warns her potential new “steady,” “I’m afraid of another disappointment/I don’t want to get hurt.” Alas, if Swift can keep dating, so can Shakira. If for no other reason than the creative inspiration.
Surprisingly not positioned as the final song on Las Mujeres Ya No Lloran, “Última” certainly has the dramatic ballad vibe of an album coda. Overtly calling out Piqué for breaking her heart, Shakira insists that, somewhere down the line, he’ll rue the day he decided to abandon her. Per her crestfallen assurances, “Surely in time you will regret it/And someday you’ll want to knock on my door again/But now I have decided to be alone/I lost my love halfway/How come you got tired of something so genuine?” Perhaps because most cliche men get tired of the women they’re with, no matter how “hot” or “fit” or rich or famous. And, more often than not, it is precisely because of those two latter qualities that most insecure men are driven away (regardless of whether they themselves are rich and famous, too).
The “you’ll be sorry” motifs present on “Última” are ramped up tenfold on the sassier, far more uptempo “Te Felicito” featuring Rauw Alejandro. This was the first taste of Las Mujeres Ya No Lloran that listeners got back in April of 2022, and one might have believed it would set the tone for the entire record. But, by and large, this sort of “fuck you” defiance is present only in brief bursts throughout the record, namely on here, on “Shakira: Bzrp Music Sessions, Vol. 53” and “TQG” featuring Karol G.
Shakira quickly goes back to being reflectively doleful on “Monotonía” featuring Ozuna. As the song title suggests, it’s an exploration of monotony…of the kind unique to, well, monogamy (there’s a reason Richard Wright [James Remar] says, “We’re not the monotonous—I mean monogamous type” to Samantha Jones [Kim Cattrall]). As such, Shakira tells her now ex-lover, “It wasn’t your fault, nor was it mine/It was the monotony’s fault/I never said anything, but it hurt me/I knew this would happen.” As though to drive home the point of monotony, Shakira sets the music video for this second single in a grocery store, looking “disheveled” (for Shakira) and absent-mindedly wandering through an aisle while “Te Felicito” plays faintly (and diegetically) in the background before Shakira delves into her “Monotonía” lyrics, which, at first, insist, “It wasn’t your fault, nor was it mine/It was the monotony’s fault/I never said anything, but it hurt me/I knew this would happen.” Shakira changes tack quickly, however, soon enough not blaming “monotony” as much as her ex’s narcissism. In other words, “Suddenly you were no longer the same/You left me because of your narcissism/You forgot what we were one day.”
Even though, per this poetic depiction of what happened to Shakira amid the emotional wreckage of her heartache, her ex didn’t forget what they were long enough to avoid literally blowing her heart out with a bazooka. As she crawls through the aisle to collect her now-disembodied heart, she manages to pick it up and eventually transport it (though not without some other obstacles along the way) safely to a deposit box in one of those fancy, high-security banks. Her intent? To lock it away “forever” so that no one else can ever try to harm it again. The pain Shakira feels from this relationship’s (to her) unexpected demise turns from sadness to vindictiveness (the natural progression) on “Shakira: Bzrp Music Sessions, Vol. 53.” As the song from which the album’s title is taken from (“Women no longer cry, women bill” [ask Mariah Carey]), “Shakira: Bzrp Music Sessions, Vol. 53” a.k.a. “Pa’ Tipos Como Tu” is especially significant not only because of this, but because it is the song that most represents what Shakira wanted this record to say overall.
As is “TQG,” a well-placed track to follow up the braggadocio of the previous one. The TQG acronym stands for Te Quedó Grande.” Which more or less translates to: “Too much for you to handle.” To be sure, a lot of women have become “too much” for men, which is why the snarky “then go find less” meme has flourished in recent years. Shakira and Karol G are essentially saying the same thing on this Ovy on the Drums-produced ditty. Opening with a quiet, “unimposing” musical background, the rhythm crescendos after the thirty-second mark, favoring the bass-heavy reggaeton Karol G is known for. And filled with the cheekily raging lyrics Shakira perfected on “Pa’ Tipos Como Tu.” Case in point, a chorus that goes: “Baby, what happened?/Thought you were very in love?/What are you doing looking for me, honey/If you know that I don’t repeat mistakes/Tell your new bae that I don’t compete for men.”
Of the two full-on ballads that appear on Las Mujeres Ya No Lloran, “Acróstico,” which gives listeners whiplash after a banger like “TQG,” is the least “affecting”—even though it’s supposed to be “endlessly moving” because her two sons, Milan and Sasha, contribute vocals to it. In fact, they’re already starting to demand of Mama Shakira when they’ll get their cut of the royalties. This because, as Shakira claims, she already told them she’s not going to buy them whatever they want (e.g., a car) just because she’s rich. They’ll have to “work” for what they want. Even though relishing the job opportunities provided by nepo baby status isn’t exactly doing that. But anyway, during this song, Shakira essentially places all of her faith in “true love” existing despite the heartache caused by Piqué because her sons have “taught [her] that love is not a scam and that when it’s real it doesn’t end.” Or, as Britney once told K-Fed amid their divorce (and one is paraphrasing here), “You’re the worst thing that ever happened to me, but you gave me my babies.” So at least Piqué did that.
As Shakira mentioned to Fallon, her release of songs “here and there” in the time since El Dorado has ultimately led to many of them being nothing new on Las Mujeres Ya No Lloran. Yet another already released song being “Copa Vacía” featuring Manuel Turizo. Another mid-tempo song that strikes a balance between being something you can either dance to or cry to (or both), Shakira grieves over the “empty cup” that is, well, her concha. For this song is about lack of sexual fulfillment as much as it is a lack of the emotional kind. And the image of Shakira as a mermaid in a dry, trash-filled landscape only serves to further emphasize the meaning behind the metaphor of her “empty cup.” Captured from her natural watery environment by Turizo, he keeps her caged in a sad little tank with his back turned to her—all sense of love and pleasure drained from Shakira’s life.
So no wonder she’s ready to be in charge again on the following song. Indeed, it’s only right that Shakira should conclude the record with “El Jefe” featuring Fuerza Regida (because we’re not counting a Tiësto remix of “Shakira: Bzrp Music Sessions, Vol. 53” and a “vinyl version” of “Puntería” as “real tracks”). Serving as something akin to her version of Beyoncé’s anti-work anthem, “Break My Soul” (meets Dolly Parton’s “9 to 5”), Shakira does a good impression of someone who has been working for little more than pesos her entire life as she rails against the Oppressor that is every employer. Granted, she’s trying to be a non-oppressive employer herself, hence mentioning her nanny, Lili Melgar, in the song, dedicating it to her in the end (probably because she tipped her off to Clara’s presence in her and Piqué’s home before a jam jar confirmed it for her—though Shakira later stated that rumor was “not true”).
Thus, Shakira concludes her album on an empowered note…even if a large bulk of it reeks of the kind of pain and vulnerability that doesn’t make one feel powerful at all. In this regard, what Shakira is leaving out as a disclaimer to her declaration that “women no longer cry” is that they don’t once they’ve run out of tears for a man who did them dirty.
Genna Rivieccio
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