He doesn't exist of course. Just think about it. When was the last time time you saw Ricky Martin breathing real everyday air and not in some impossibly glossy video on MTV or lip-synching on some kiddies pop programme while a dozen dusky lovelies grind behind?
No paparazzi snaps of him stumbling out of the Met Bar or The Viper Room at 4 in the morning for this hunk, no sashaying up the red carpet on his way in to the Charlie's Angels premier. In fact all that we get in the face of such scant personal minutae is the usual seedy slew of cheap innuendo and rumour. Which is so much missing the point. He ain't f**king real!! We might as well start whisper campaigns about all those cute Tracey brothers on Thunderbirds.
The first jalapeno-juiced pop star to truly gatecrash this gringo pop party thing will without doubt clean up like no-one has before. Gloria Estefan stuck around for a while but was just a little bit too mumsy to really get down and shake her ass... breaking her back didn't help matters either. Julio Iglesias looks too much like Terry Wogan and anyway he makes more than enough peso's already just playing to the Spanish market to bother getting his mouth around lyrics Americano.
Which leaves this thing called Ricky to consider. Last year's might 'Livin' La Vida Loca' should have been the one to kick down the doors for him but it all kind of fizzled out. You can't help thinking that as a cartoon-like construct his lack of a genuine personality held him back. Deep down, like Esperanto, he might simply be too ersatz to catch on.
'Sound Loaded' is pretty much his make or break album then when it comes to the big bi-cultural cross-over so how far does it go in cutting the extra-strength mustard? Well if you skip over the glutinously gloopy ballads and stick with the dynamite-trousered like of 'Loaded' and first single 'She Bangs' then you might end up believing that Rrrrricky boy could still end up king of the whole wide world.
Best by far is the sizzle and sauce of 'If You Ever Saw Her' which manages to namecheck both Marilyn and Madonna but is a whole lot more invigorating than that suggests. The rest is by and large cliched drivel which no amount of flamenco arpeggios can redeem, the lyrics so moon-in-june meaningless that in comparison the new Radiohead stuff seems crisp and precise.
The album charts will see many wild and wonderful creatures vying for the top spot this Christmas and Ricky Martin is as fantastical as any of them. No more real than a Womble and less of a man than Bob the Builder any day, what he does have going for him with 'Sound Loaded' is some insane trumpet and squawking horns and three blinding flashes of musical brilliance that could even put some oomph into your granny's funeral.
Worth getting yourself a sh*t temping job just so you can hit that office party with a bottle of extra-strength cider and a copy of this tucked under your arm and ready to wreak all manner of havoc. Shake that flabby tush Maureen, all your Christmases have suddenly come at once...
