I almost began writing "an unexpected reward of this undertaking is," but that's sloppy, thoughtless copymaking. The truth is it was entirely expected — in fact it was half the reason I began it in the first place. So:
A long-foreseen reward of this undertaking is the chance to familiarize myself with acts I never would have come across in the ordinary run of things. Even if I'd wanted to educate myself on the history of Latin Pop, Myriam Hernández is not one of the names that stands out in bold relief; apart from her brief early-90s moment in the wider Latin Pop spotlight, her success (though steady) has been mostly confined to South America*.
But though I inwardly groaned at the telltale keys of yet another ballad (even the flickers of guitar in the intro betrayed me), her voice made me sit up and take notice; I played it again, almost instinctively. It's not the kind of voice that would stop traffic, necessarily; and maybe only someone with my peculiar set of tastes could find it fascinating, but while she has the requisite operettic lungpower for a Latin Pop diva, and goes full-throttle on the chorus, her approach to the verses is more delicate and even kind of unusual. The texture of her voice in the quieter moments reminds me more of jazz or folk singers (the liquid clarity of Joan Baez, perhaps?) than of the strong-lunged diva who belts out her litany of amors.
And then I got home and looked up the record cover in order to create this post, and phew! It's a good thing I'm past the age of falling in love with a song and a photograph. Ahem.
*At least, that's the impression I get from her Wikipedia pages. As always, please correct me in the comments.