Mala Rodriguez “Malamarismo”

It's one of the ironies of history that Spain, which gave the world the Spanish language, to say the least, has yet to produce a Spanish-language rapper or reggaetónero on par with Daddy Yankee, Don Omar, Calle 13, Tego Calderón or, for that matter, Ivy Queen.

Maybe it's the funny way the Spanish spit their "jotas" or the sometimes vast cultural distance between Europe and the New World. Or, just maybe, without access to the long, violent history of Spain's outcasts, its gitanos and moros, its economic refugees and political prisons, Americans wouldn't recognize an authentic Spanish voice if they heard it.

Emphasis on "if." Malamarismo is Mala Rodríguez' third album, but since it's nearly impossible to hear her first, the raw and sometimes dazzling Lujo Ibérico (2000) and much of her second record, Alevosía (2003), never made it on the Interwebs, you could say this is her American debut.

It certainly sounds like one. Less present are the minimal, old school beats and monophonic synthesizer basslines, the chiki-wah-wah guitar hooks and mind-numbingly insistent piano lines. In their place are, well, lotsa shiny new things: from the rubbery rhythm of "Caida Libre" to the layered staccato samples in "Memos Tu," from the crystalline, spiraling beats in "Toca Toca" to the stuttering, twisted orchestra on "Enfermo". Even the record's first single, the club banger "Nanai," sprinkles syncopated sticks, bells and metals over the length of the entire song.

While positively future-forward, these accents can get in the way of a good line, as on "Memorias del Futuro," where a strapped up 1-2-3 beat and nasal synth line cut through the vocals like a headache on a sunny day. It's a weird, dizzying effect: unlike other summer blockbusters where the special effects are designed to shine, what makes La Mala Rodríguez a natural star is her voice. She's the reason you buy tickets to the show.

Fortunately for her current and future fans, there's still plenty of La Mala on Malamarismo, even if it's squeezed into fleeting moments. On the standout Toca Toca, her aggressive diction, potent rhymes and sultry southern pronunciation (she drops consonants like strippers drop panties) blend perfectly with the musical base leaving the listener hungry for seconds. The album's closing track, "Déjame Entrá," may start with a drunken sample but it snaps to attention with the Sevillana singsong that makes La Mala as charmed as the words she dedicates to a lover on this shuffling chill-out jam.

Where her previous records were sometimes marred by out-of-wack collaborations with lesser talents, there are two pairings on this collection worthy of the occasion. A minute into the sweet "Tiempo Pa Pensa," Mala deftly drops into an understated flamenco flourish only to suddenly bump into – and yield much of the rest of the song to – Julieta Venegas. On Enfermo, the flow is smoother, as Tego Calderón gracefully shares and even propels the track, trading both verse and chorus duties with a poised Mala.

Our review copy also included a bonus video of Por La Noche off her previous album, a terrific "classic" Mala track that will hopefully point millions towards her back catalog of hits and, perhaps, guarantee their release in the U.S. where their black magic can only do her career good. In the meantime, interested parties would do well to track down and order jaw-droppers like "La Cocinera", "La Niña", "Tengo Un Trato" and "Con Los Ojos De Engaña," which has the added distinction of lyrically foreshadowing her first strike this time around:

Si vas a engañar
mírame con los ojos de engañar
Si vas a matar
mírame con los ojos de matar...
Pa tí na es to, para mí to es na

If you're going to lie,
Look at me with lying eyes
If you're going to kill
Look at me with killer eyes...
For you, nothing is everything, for me everything ain't a thing