Shakira, Shakira

I haven't posted in ages because I've done nothing since returning from Prague, owing to a very violent and angry illness, which my boss refers to as an Eastern European Lurgi.

Anyway, Emily, in her awesome ticket-getting goodness, managed to get a pair of freebie tickets to see Shakira last Sunday. I'm not really into pop divas, but damn, who would pass that up?

To sum up the show in three words: Bitch can dance. I mean, maybe that seems obvious, but really, it's phenomenal. She can even move her breasts around without moving the rest of her body -- a bit creepy, but she must have awesome pecs. Sadly, didn't get video of that. But really, her crazy hips make Britney's porn star act look school-girlish and Christina's platform-shoed prancing look silly.

Throw in the cat-like screeching and ESL lyrics, and it's all good. Add in the coked-up (maybe I stereotype?) Colombian girls falling down the stairs and nearly taking out the beer girl, and it's even better.

What I really liked about the concert was how laid-back and sweet Shakira seemed. The entire show she did barefoot, and while she did prance around in a sparkly bikini top for a large part of the show, she wore these baggy black trousers the entire time -- even under skirts. That's the sort of thing I'd do for a costume party when I was an insecure teenager.

For a few songs, her clothes were flashbacks to the early nineties: the aforementioned big, wide-legged trousers and a tiny baby-tee (also things I used to wear, way back when).



There were no red pleather body-suits a la Britney a few years back (when she was still hot). She did come on stage in a crazy-ass dress with massive flowing sleeves for one song, and dressed in Indian costume for another, but even with sparkle-encased boobs she never came off as slutty. Maybe I'm getting old, but I kind of like that. The not-sluttiness, not the sparkly boobs. Actually, hell, I'll admit to both.

Videos live here; crappy photos live here.