When Shakira played Miami nearly four years ago, this critic wrote that she'd never be a rock star unless she stopped trying so hard to act like one. Friday night at Miami's AmericanAirlines Arena, she proved she doesn't have to try anymore.

From the minute she strode into the sold-out Arena, singing Estoy Aquí (I'm Here), Shakira seemed to completely enjoy herself. Her hips don't lie -- how could they? They were almost as much an instrument as her voice.

Barefoot, wearing a shimmery, semi-transparent top and loose black pants hanging from barely above her pubic bone, Shakira exuded personality and body language onstage. The girl can really belly dance, and she seemed to love the way she could shimmy and slam her body, going from exotic to ironic with one flip of her pelvis, in a style all her own.

Who'd think a pop star would show a film of herself and another dancer doing an experimental modern dance duet set to a piece by French composer Erik Satie?

Backed by a tight, expert and energized band (composed mostly of Miami musicians, including Willy Chirino's daughter Olgui on guitar and vocals) that seemed to be having almost as good a time as she was, Shakira sounded expressive, powerful and in control of her voice.

She moved easily from explosive rocker Pies Descalzos (Bare Feet) to a heartbroken whisper on No. On Obtener Un Sí (To Get a Yes), an electro-orchestral bossa nova, she sounded like an old-school big band torch singer.

Her music sounds more Middle Eastern than ever -- in the harmonies, the rippling rhythms, the husky, throaty voice. But it merges well with rock beats, and with the infectious Caribbean-inflected rhythms in songs like Ciega, Sordomuda. It's idiosyncratic and it works, much like Shakira herself.

Shakira celebrates her sexuality without forcing it, enjoying her body as part of her power. Singing with Alejandro Sanz, who made a surprise appearance (to mass hysteria) to sing La Tortura, her monster hit from Oral Fijacion Vol. 1, Shakira was playful, flirtatious, his equal and his seductress in a way both seemed to thoroughly enjoy.

Shakira wasn't afraid to take chances with simple but wonderful theatrical stuff. She sang No, a beautiful song of love gone poisonously painful, in a flowing red gown, then used long sticks to swirl enormous red fabric wings into the air like a giant, diaphanous butterfly, as if the emotion in the song was spiraling out of her heart and into the air.

For Whenever, Wherever, she skipped into the crowd and spent a long time chanting, clapping, hugging and urging people around her to sing and clap with her, startling in a show like this and for a star of her stature.

The finale, her hit Hips Don't Lie, was a great big party, Shakira laughing and shimmying every inch of her body, a phalanx of orange-clad dancers swirling and shaking behind her, Wyclef Jean getting down and appreciating her every move and the rest of the Arena jumping up and down in celebration.

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