Fake French Britney-pop for all the dads he loved before


According to a dryly worded report in Billboard last December, Britney Spears was to have collaborated with Daft Punk on a cut for what has since become the dryly moaned In the Zone. Along with the alleged sessions Spears is said to have completed with local dance-rock impresarios the DFA (the existence of which I’m unwilling to accept until someone not from the Internet confirms them), the Daft Punk track is something I’d gladly shed my tube top to hear.

Luckily, I’ve managed to locate it on Enrique Iglesias’s new album—where it shows up as “Be Yourself,” a phantom-powered exertion of ego disguised as a fuck-you (or the other way around) to apparent ambition-squashers like Julio: cream-cheese house thump, toy-guitar filigree, space-suit keyboard lather, an impassioned vocal that rides the beat like a bullet train to Vegas. Then a tap-dancing robot slam-dunks Enrique’s grief and faxes a chorus of desiccated doo-doo-doos out of its butt!

The remainder of Seven comprises bouncily anonymous dance-pop interspersed with gloopily anonymous love balladry. This is an apt reflection of Iglesias’s physical appearance, recently relieved of its uniquity via the surgical removal of a mole above his upper lip.