Welcome back to the Deep Dive. Today we're opening
up a file that honestly, it feels like a bit
of a glitch in the pop culture matrix. It really
does. It's one of those historical moments where
you look back and think, wait, that actually
happened. Right. In 2005. Yeah, exactly. Because
when you think of Shakira in the mid 2000s, your
mental image is probably very specific. You're
thinking about hips don't lie. Oh, absolutely.
White clip sheen, global dance floors, reggaeton
beats. Right. A very polished, universally beloved
brand of Latin pop. You generally are not thinking
of a woman standing in front of a wall of amplifiers
just screaming theological questions at the creator
of the universe. No. But that is exactly what
we are unpacking today. We're doing a deep dive
into the opening track of her 2005 album Oral
Fixation Volume 2. The song is called How Do
You Do. And for you listening, this isn't just
some obscure deep cut to overanalyze. This track
sparked a literal geopolitical incident. It really
did. It's a fascinating case study. It's what
happens when globalized pop music just collides
head on with religious censorship. We've got
a great stack of sources today to look at. Wikipedia
archives covering the composition, the release
history, and of course, the massive controversy
it sparked. Right. Our mission here is to unpack
how a global superstar used a rock anthem to
question faith. We'll look at the specific musical
choices she made to try and bridge three major
religions and the incredibly heavy -handed censorship
response that tried. It failed. Exactly. Tried
and failed to silence the track. And we really
have to talk about the sound first because the
production credits here, they're just baffling
in the best way. Let's jump right into that.
Put yourself back in 2005. You just bought this
CD. maybe at a Virgin Megastore, and you pop
it in expecting, I don't know, La Tortura Part
II, what happens? You are immediately confused.
Right, because it doesn't start with a pop beat.
No, it starts with Gregorian chants. Solemn,
heavy, monastic Gregorian chants. Followed right
away by a spoken recitation of the Lord's Prayer,
you know, Our Father Who Art in Heaven, the whole
thing. It's such a bold choice. It immediately
sets a tone for the whole album that says, We
are not at the club anymore. Right. But then,
and this is where the production notes get wild,
the prayer ends and it doesn't turn into a ballad.
It turns into a rock song. A heavy rock song.
The sources describe it having modern pop rock
structures, massive riffs, and a really specific
staccato guitar solo. It's aggressive. And to
understand why it sounds like that, you have
to look at who is in the booth. Yeah, it wasn't
her usual Latin pop hitmakers. It was co -written
and produced. by The Matrix. Okay, we need to
unpack The Matrix for a second, because if you
weren't reading liner notes back then, that just
sounds like the Keanu Reeves movie. Right, so
The Matrix is a famous production trio. Lauren
Christie, Scott Spock, and Graham Edwards. And
they are the architects of a very specific era
of sound. Exactly. Think Avril Lavigne's debut
album, Complicated. Skater boy. That crunchy,
radio -friendly pop rock sound. That is the Matrix.
That is just wild to me. Shakira coming off these
massive Latin dance successes explicitly hires
the team behind Avril Lavigne. She clearly wanted
that angst, that specific texture of early 2000s
American rock. But it gets better. Because she
pairs them with Rick Rubin. The absolute legend.
Executive producer Rick Rubin. Famous for stripping
things down, working with Johnny Cash, finding
the raw truth in a recording. And Lester Mendez
co -produced as well. Right. And then, just to
make this supergroup even more insane, you have
Gustavo Cerati credited as an additional producer.
Who is basically royalty in rock in Espanol?
The front man of Soda Stereo. So you have this
massive collision of talent, the commercial pop
punk gloss of The Matrix, the raw authenticity
of Rick Rubin, and the Latin rock credibility
of Sorati. Critics totally recognized it too.
Songwriter Universe called it a bold opening
track. And The Guardian compared the chorus to
the grandeur of arena rock. It was designed to
sound massive, but that brings us to the core
issue. You build this giant sonic arena rock
track, and then you use it to just... Interrogation
is the perfect word for it. This is not a praise
song. It is a confrontation. The lyrics are startling.
She addresses the deity directly, which is already
a huge risk. It's a massive risk. I want to quote
this specific part from the verse because it's
the core of the song. She sings, Hey, does that
make you proud or does it bring you shame? Or
does it bring you shame? That line alone is so
heavy. It's theodicy. Yes. the attempt to justify
God's actions, specifically how you explain human
suffering and evil if God is supposedly all -powerful
and all -good. the oldest question in philosophy
and she's belting it out over a distorted guitar
riff she gets really specific about her grimaces
in the lyrics the sources point out themes of
frustration with wars historical crimes committed
in the name of faith but she also brings it down
to a really personal level right she mentions
siblings driven apart by religious differences
which is where it really resonates it's not just
abstract historical war it's the pain of seeing
religion used as a wedge between families so
she's essentially saying Look at all this conflict
over what to call you. And that frustration leads
right into the bridge. The bridge is crucial.
Billboard reviewed the song and specifically
called it a blistering bridge. Because she isn't
just singing anymore. She starts chanting. And
she incorporates chants in three different languages.
Arabic, Hebrew, and Latin. Representing Islam.
Judaism and Christianity. Right. Three major
religions that historically and obviously currently
have deep conflicts. But she forces them together
in the song. And the sources emphasize that despite
the different languages, each chant is a plea
for forgiveness. That's the unifying message.
She's musically blurring the lines between these
faiths to show a common thread. It's a really
powerful artistic statement. Shakira actually
defended this specific choice later on. She did.
She argued it was a hymn for peace and equality.
She said, God is the same no matter what they
call him, whether Jehovah or Yahweh. She insisted
her entire goal was reflection and dialogue,
not offense. A hymn for peace, which is a beautiful
sentiment. But obviously intention and reception
are two very different things. Very different.
You can call it a hymn for peace all day long.
But if the lyrics sound blasphemous to the listener,
you have a massive problem on your hands. Which
pivots us perfectly into the censorship scandal.
Because this album hits the Middle East in December
2005. And it immediately hits a brick wall. Normally
when we look at censorship in these deep dives,
we're talking about a government ministry handing
down a ban. Right. some state censorship board.
But here, the initial ban was actually driven
by the private sector. The source is specifically
named Mohamed Abdel Halim. Yes. He was the owner
of Sony Music International's distributor in
Cairo. He's the guy in charge of putting the
CDs on the shelves and generating revenue. Exactly.
And he personally ordered the censorship. His
quote from the archives is fascinating because
it goes against every rule of the music business.
He said, Even though I am aware that it could
become a bestseller, he knows he is leaving massive
profits on the table. Shakira was one of the
biggest stars on the planet. This album was guaranteed
money. But the lyrics were just deemed entirely
blasphemous. Disrespectful to religious figures
and beliefs. The decision was attributed to a
very limited openness toward religious discussion,
especially this kind of aggressive interrogation
in regions like Egypt at the time. So what was
the actual outcome for the fans there? Well,
the entire album, Oral Fixation Volume 2, was
just not distributed at all in many Middle Eastern
countries. Completely banned. Completely. But
in the GCC countries, the Gulf Cooperation Council,
and in Lebanon... They found a compromise. If
you can call it that. Right. The album was released,
but How Do You Do was completely removed from
the track list. Just erased from the album. But
they tried to get Shakira to approve that, right?
The company did try to get her to scrap the song
entirely to save the album's distribution across
the whole region. To just take the business win.
But she refused. She absolutely refused to do
it. That tension between artistic integrity and
cultural sensitivity is so stark here. She wouldn't
compromise the piece. But the censorship didn't
stop at the audio. We have to talk about the
visuals. Right. Because the album cover art caused
its own massive controversy. If the lyrics were
gasoline, the album cover was the match. For
you listening who haven't seen the cover of Oral
Fixation Volume 2, let's describe it. It features
Shakira posing as Eve. Biblical Eve. Yes. She
is semi -nude, standing beside the Tree of Knowledge.
She's holding the forbidden fruit. An amble.
And there's a baby reaching up for it. Embodying
the concept of original sin. So if you are the
distributor in Cairo, already offended by the
lyrics. And then you see a semi -nude pop star
posing as a sacred figure holding the forbidden
fruit. It just compounds the issue completely.
So in those GCC countries where the album was
released without the song, what did they do about
the physical CD cover? They altered it. They
literally added leaves to cover her body. Just
photoshopped foliage over Shakira. Exactly. visual
censorship to match the audio censorship. It's
just wild to think about. But to put this all
in context, this track wasn't just Shakira trying
to be edgy for one album cycle. No, not at all.
The archives show this is a recurring theme in
her career. She has a history of exploring her
beliefs and questioning authority in her music.
If you look at her earlier work, songs like Octavo
Díaz from 1998 or Tena Sesedo from 1995, she's
been writing about God and power for a long time.
How Do You Do was just the loudest, most globally
visible version of that exploration. And despite
the bans. The song still reached a massive audience.
Oh, absolutely. She performed it live at Rock
in Rio Lisboa II in 2006. For an audience of
90 ,000 people? 90 ,000 people. So you have store
shelves in one part of the world refusing to
stock it and 90 ,000 people screaming it in a
field in Portugal. It perfectly illustrates how
you can try to ban a track, but a global pop
star is still going to find a way to perform
it. It's a huge testament to her scale as an
artist. When we look at this whole story. From
the studio to the censorship. We see this incredible
journey, a collaborative writing session with
The Matrix and Rick Rubin, turns into a multilingual
plea for forgiveness. Which then results in an
international distribution ban. It highlights
such a fascinating tension. On one side, Shakira
refusing to cut the song to protect her artistic
integrity. And on the other, the distributor
refusing to sell it. due to deep -seated cultural
and religious sensitivity. So we want to leave
you with something to think about. We're looking
at a world that is still very much fractured
by religious conflict. Perhaps even more so today.
Right. So was the song's attempt to blend Arabic,
Hebrew, and Latin chants into a pop rock track
fundamentally naive? Or was it exactly the kind
of bold hymn for peace that she claimed it was?
And if she released it today, how would the world
react now? Something for you to explore on your
own. That's a great question. Thanks for joining
us on this deep dive. See you next time.