Of course, to reduce Maluma merely to a twenty-first century progression of Ricky Martin might be marked under the offensive category of somehow “confusing” the two or conflating them solely because both create Latin music (this would never have been an accusation in the the twentieth century, mind you). But, to be sure, there are certain parallels between the erstwhile “King of Latin Pop” and this Colombian quickly ascending the ranks. Already on his fourth album at age twenty-five, 11:11 shows Maluma further flexing his clout with another collaboration with Madonna post-“Medellín” called “Soltera,” as well as one with Ty Dolla $ign called “Tu Vecina.” Then again, collaborations have long been his arroz con pollo (an attempt at repurposing bread and butter). Most especially on last year’s F.A.M.E., which featured more American-oriented artists like Timbaland and Marc Anthony (another Latin artist dusted off from the Ricky Martin era).
With 11:11, it’s apparent Maluma is aware of the power that comes with both commercial success and artistic freedom, opening the record with the sultry allure of “11 PM.” Insisting, “Cómo hacerte entender/Que conmigo tú te ves mejor/Que en mi carro tú te ves mejor/El cuarto huele a Christian Dior/Eres muy bonita pa’ llorar por él/No merece que seas fiel/Ni tampoco tu piel, bebé,” it all sounds much cheesier in English (as usual). For, basically, Maluma is telling some broad she’ll look better at his side, she’s too pretty to cry and, oh yeah, the room smells like Christian Dior. Nice “subtle” product placement. Ricky Martin, too, suffered the same ills with his own Spanish lyrics, even on 1995’s “María,” in which he discusses a mercurial woman he falls in love with therefore becomes imprisoned by (the lyrics are very much the blueprint for 1999’s unavoidable “Livin’ La Vida Loca”).
The problem, of course, was that he never rebranded once he transitioned into singing solely in English, sustaining lyrics with a persistent amount of schmaltz that included simply, um, “shake your bon-bon.” Maluma has yet to “transition,” as it were, and maybe it’s better if he doesn’t, thereby making the same inevitable mistake as Ricky Martin in losing his mystique. What’s more, because so much has changed it terms of how unacceptable it is to be perceived as prejudiced in any way, there isn’t really a need for Maluma to bow to the former pressures of speaking in English to appeal to a mass audience. In fact, his “Spanishness” is part of what has lent him so much cachet on a global scale. For now, it is global–not U.S.-based–success that matters more than anything.
On “HP,” another song about a woman done wrong in a relationship that Maluma seems to be creepily spying on from afar, he is permitted the luxury of getting raunchier than Martin was ever able to as he makes note of her not looking for a boyfriend but simply wanting “to fuck” (“joder”). Naturally, everything comes together on track three when Martin joins Maluma for “No Se Me Quita,” another track that feels more twentieth century than twenty-first (for the Latinos are still deemed romantic instead of rapey somehow), as the duo jointly espouses how there is no “vaccine” to cure them of their obsession with a woman (or, in Martin’s case, a man–and maybe Maluma’s case for all we know, for being gay and Latin still isn’t “done” right at the outset of a career). The beat itself smacks of a late 90s/early 00s ripoff, repurposed here for the benefit of paying respect to Martin.
On “Dispuesto” featuring Ozuna, Maluma continues to make analogies to being ill in the absence of a specific female body, with “I get sick when you leave” as an explanation for always being so “ready” (what “dispuesto” means) to receive her, if you will. Yes, it’s all very sexual once again, with talk of black tights that feature some kind of jellyfish design (Maluma should think about marketing an exclusive line of them) further reeling him in–a classic “asking for it” allusion.
The sex-crazed motif that Ricky Martin could never quite get away with (forced into a more romance-oriented box, which was probably best in the end for the sake of authenticity as he never had interest in railing a woman) doesn’t stop on the Nicky Jam-featuring “No Puedo Olvidarte.” Discussing how he’s lying in bed thinking about all the things he would do to a certain girl if she was there, claiming to be unable to forget her or, more accurately, the “taste of her mouth.”
Things are a little bit “sweeter” a.k.a. more Ricky Martin on “Me Enamoré De Ti,” a song about being madly in love and willing to do anything to make the person in question feel the same. Ah, the South Americans with their ephemerally obsessive nature. But Maluma’s obsession (who knows if it’s for the same woman) doesn’t stop on “Extrañándote” (“Missing You”), a particularly reggaeton-laden ditty featuring Zion and Lennox, a tale that unfolds to lead into Maluma insisting, “Give me your skin.” It’s a bit weird. But maybe skin grafting is “hot” in South American relationships.
On “Shhh (Calla’), Maluma holds his own as he talks about an illicit tryst that apparently requires him to tell this woman to “shut up” and keep their stolen kisses a secret. Again, it gets very rapey as he repeats “shut up” over and over again toward the end. But hey, Latins, at the very least, can never be accused of not expressing themselves.
The dramatically melodied “Dinero Tiene Cualquiera” finds Maluma being all romantic yet again as he navigates his split personality, vacillating between modern playboy and Ricky Martin-era sweetheart. Declaring that money is cool, sure, but it means nothing if there is nobody to share one’s riches with. Whether or not he does so with his current girlfriend (a model, to be sure), Natalia Barulich, is something only she can attest to.
Re-teaming after their collaboration on “Medellín” (a duet that came long after Madonna jumped on vocals she co-wrote and produced with William Orbit to sing with Martin for “Be Careful [Cuidado Con Mi Corazón]” in 1999), “Soltera” finds Madonna and Maluma in a more playful mood, with Madonna going full-tilt “I’m Going Bananas” on her vocals. That “soltera” means single is fitting to Madonna’s insistence, “Please do not fall in love with me/I would rather be set free/Don’t you try to rescue me/I’m who I will always be/And I’d rather be alone/Than pretend to make a perfect home.” Maluma builds on the theme with the classic platitude (in Spanish), “It’s better to be alone than badly accompanied.” And Lord knows Madonna has had to learn that the hard way between Vanilla Ice and Dennis Rodman.
Segueing into “Te Quiero,” Maluma, at this point, has probably wielded his “signature” even more than DJ Khaled constantly shouting “DJ Khaled” by announcing, yet again, “Maluma baby.” The tango-infused rhythm finds Maluma acting the part of jilted lover by announcing in one moment how much better he’s doing without the object of his affection and in the next how he, nonetheless, loves her..from far away (again, with the creepy stalker vibes). Oh how the split personality theme endures.
Slowing down again for “Instinto Natural” featuring Sech, Maluma shows his Ricky Martinesque pussycat side once more as he rues not wanting to break the heart of the one he loves, but hey, it’s just natural instinct to “fall into other mouths.” Surely, you understand.
Toying lightly with singing in English on “Tu Vecina” (“Your Neighbor) featuring Ty Dolla $ign, things get scandalous again as the beat picks up to the narrative of “Tu vecina wonders why we been so quiet lately/Tu vecina wonders why you ain’t been screaming ‘baby’/I used to bang, bang, bang that on the daily.” Ah, there’s the raunchy side of Ricky Martin coming out à la “She Bangs.”
Getting back to more important explorations, namely female body analyses, on “La Flaca” featuring Chencho Corleone, Maluma paints the portrait of “the skinny girl.” The one who doesn’t have a boyfriend, so no one watches her at the club. The one who likely watches soap operas and therefore thinks amor should be equally as dramatic. Meanwhile, Maluma just wants to dance.
Though he doesn’t seem to want you to do the same on “Puesto Pa’ Ti” featuring Farina. Unless it’s a casual swaying you’re up for as he apologizes to the one he hurt for being such a puto. But he’s sorry now (sure) and just needs a little forgiveness.
And yes, he’ll get it, as he shifts gears once more toward the age-old story of the woman he’s watching from afar on “Déjale Saber,” in between having his usual affair with her–the woman who needs to let her cad of an ex know that she’s better off without him. Just as Maluma is better off without “the Ricky Martin model” in terms of throwing out the blueprint that might have required him to be even more lyrically maudlin in the twentieth century.
