BY J. FABIAN ARELLANO MERINO
The rain had stopped, the clock struck 10:15, and fatigue was beginning to show on the faces of some of the faithful salsa fans who had been assembled at the Zocalo since the early hours of the evening and displayed their best dance steps on the periphery of the capital city's main square.
Following Van Van and Gilberto Santa Rosa's performances, Willie Colón took the stage in the heart of Mexico City—it was worth the wait.
The U.S. singer opened his performance with “Barruco” and “Te conozco Bacalao” (You Can't Fool Me), which were the grand finale of "A High Quality Tropical Evening" organized by the Mexico City government and “La Sabrosita 100.9 FM."
“Thank you very much, good evening. I have come from New York. I see a lot of people gathered together here. I can assure Andres Manuel that he can count on the votes of the 120 thousand salsa lovers here tonight,” said the singer-composer who lived in Mexico for four years.
What followed had never before been seen in the entire history of salsa music in Mexico and the rest of the world. “This will be the first time for me to sing this piece, so you will be the judges.”
Willie Colón sang “Juanito Alimana” (Johnny Bugs), one of the biggest hits of Héctor Lavoe, “The Voice,” who “The Magician” remembered as the lead vocalist in his first group, and to whom he paid homage with a medley of his greatest songs. “Periódico de ayer” (Yesterday's Newspaper), “El todopoderoso” (The All-Mighty), and “El cantante” (The Singer) were part of the tropical banquet of memories in honor of the man originally named Héctor Manuel Pérez Martínez, who was also the lead vocalist for the Fania All-Stars.
The crowd of 120 thousand fell under the spell of the "Magician from the Bronx," who lived up to his fans' expectations. They left the Plaza of the Constitution dancing the rumba, with the moral from the lyrics of “El Gran Barón” (The Great Man) on their lips: “If life gives you lemons, learn to make lemonade."
Making the Zocalo Sparkle
Saturday night, thousands of people danced and sang under the rain to the rhythms of Willie Colón, Gilberto Santa Rosa, and Van Van
Carlos Carrasco Araizaga
"I want to dedicate this concert to all those who will vote this year, whether in the United States or in Mexico. There are 120 thousand of you here, so (Andrés Manuel) López Obrador must have at least 120 thousand people on his side. Right? I bring greetings from Mayor Bloomberg and New York's entire Latin community." So began the performance of Willie Colón, who said that he almost jumped out of his plane to be there Saturday night in front of approximately 120 thousand spectators gathered in the Mexico City Zocalo, according to the organizers.
With the song "Juanito alimaña" (Johnny Bugs), Colón reaffirmed his role as a public-opinion leader. Besides encouraging the audience to vote, he recounted the features of some of the "vermin" who come into power and who are "friends" of Rubén Blades' "Pedro Navajas," the pimp who abused prostitutes and charged them for protection.
The audience at the Zocalo requested more of the songs Colón composed with the former singer from his band that broke up at the beginning of the 70s. Hector Lavoe and Willie Colón composed many songs together, which are still remembered by their fans and were heard once again Saturday night. "El Todopoderoso" (The All-Mighty) inspired the most singing and dancing. Some even shed a few tears, which blended in with the light rain that bathed and refreshed the Plaza of the Constitution for more than two hours. The aroma lingering after the rain mingled with the smell of cigars smoked by the fans who spoke with a Caribbean accent. Many boasted of their Cuban and Dominican ancestry.
At that moment, numerous couples started to dance, stripping off the jackets or raincoats they had brought with them to avoid getting wet. Little by little, the area set aside for the concert's press coverage cleared, opening up a dance floor opposite the other end of the stage, where the disabled and elderly had their own space. Those in wheelchairs kept an eye on the crutches and white canes entrusted to them.
But it was not just a night of nostalgia in the Zocalo. Colón also performed his most recent hits. In fact, the trumpeter, born in the Bronx but raised according to his parents' Puerto Rican customs, delighted the audience with a selection of songs that would rarely be heard, even at a private party.
"Talento de televisión" (Television Talent), "Idilio" (Idyll), "Asia," and "Gitana" (Gypsy) were performed in one stretch, and more than three couples caught the beat and sang at the top of their lungs while moving to the salsa rhythm.
"El gran varón" (The Big Man) was one of the songs that concluded the concert organized by the Mexico City government. The line-up also included Van Van and Gilberto Santa Rosa, who inspired the fans to non-stop dancing to the Caribbean rhythms of the three bands.
Santa Rosa, who also appeared in Salón 21 the same night, played for more than an hour, during which he sang both old and new songs. "Que alguien me diga" (Somebody Tell Me), "Sombra loca" (Crazy Shadow), and "Qué manera de quererte" (What a Way to Love You) were performed to much emotion, both because the fans were so pleased to hear them, and because they had the opportunity to see their idol up close and feel that "he is singing just for your ears," as one over-50 female fan commented after bursting into tears when hearing "Mentira" (Lie), the theme song for the TV soap opera "Mirada de mujer. El regreso" ( Woman's Glance. The Return).
And although no one had heard of them to start with, the Cuban group Van Van succeeded in captivating the Zocalo audience, which by 8:00 numbered around 70 thousand, and at its peak, reached 120 thousand, a record turnout.
The concert, which started at 6:00 p.m., did not end until five hours later when, at the stroke of midnight, Colón thanked the fans for their attendance.
ARTURO CRUZ BARCENAS
""Congratulations to (the newspaper) La Jornada, which tomorrow—yesterday, Sunday— will celebrate it's 20 anniversary!," the Puerto Rican shouted, Willie Colon as he arrived at Mexico's grandest afternoon-evening music fest, where the composer of Gitana (Gypsy) shared the stage with Gilberto Santa Rosa and Juan Formell and Los Van Van.
"There are 120 thousand of you, so (Andrés Manuel) López Obrador must have at least 120 thousand people on his side. right?," he continued to shout. The response to Willie's words was applause, exclamations of support, some, a few, of indifference, although others typically rude, like "Hey, Willie, don't be a politician!"
He added: "I bring you greetings from the Mayor of New York, Michael Bloomerberg, where I am from, the Bronx. I want to tell you that for the first time in history, the Empire State was dressed in green, white, and red, the colors of your flag—last September 15." The shouts of "bravo!" were a logical extension of the patriotic feeling expressed this month by nationals residing at different latitudes.
Colón brought many good tidings. Most of the people in the front rows had arrived seven hours earlier to reserve their seats (some much earlier). It was 10:15 at night. He opened with La ruta de mi corazón (The Way to my Heart), Te Conozco, Bacalao (You Can't Fool Me), and No trates de persuadirme (Don't Try to Persuade Me). He said that much of what they would hear originated in 1966, when he knew Hector Juan Perez Martinez, better known as Hector Lavoe, his friend, his brother, whom he recognized for his musical talent and guidance in creating salsa. "Clearly, in 1966, many of you were in two places at the same time."
When he appeared before the record crowd gathered at El Zocalo, Mexico City's grabdest plaza, dozens of people shouted the songs they wanted to hear. "I bring you greetings from the Latin Community of New York, where we we have the most diverse Latino Community in the world!" He continued with Juanito Alimaña (Juanito the Bug), which he played for the first time live, assisted by the written lyrics.
Then he played and sang one of his most popular pieces: Talento de televisión (Television Talent), in which he performed one of the most characteristic sounds in the history of salsa. (Although it is not well known, Willie wrote this hit inspired by Thalia, who is now the wife of Tommy Mottola, the Sony Music magnate. "She doesn't have any talent, but she's a good maid." So it goes.)
He pleased the audience with Idilio (My ideal) and Asia. He dedicated a medley to Hector Lavoe: Llegó la banda (The Band Arrived), Periódico De Ayer (Yesterday's Newspaper), Todopoderoso (All-Mighty), and El Cantante (The Singer). So much music in such a short time. "Singing for you is an honor and a privilege for me." In front of the National Palace, they danced on the sidewalk, hugging, intimately, without time or space. The patrols passes and the agents left. It was better not to bother them. Everything can just stay the way it is.
The couples multiplied and the night seemed to have no end. Nobody wanted to leave. While the crowd, primarily teenagers, demonstrated that Willie is more popular than ever, several older couples danced like they used to, with respect close to adoration. They danced in slow motion, at a slow pace, but danced to the beat. The salsa, which had been played hours earlier by Gilberto Santa Rosa, is lively, but cool but not crazy. You drag the tip of your shoe, smoothly, making a figure. With Willie, who was born in the Bronx, of Puerto Rican descent, you can do it too.
The clock approached midnight. It was almost Sunday, and Willie said good-bye. A few classics were missing. The shouts were getting louder. He returned to remember La Jornada's anniversary, its first 20 years of life. He wished the Mexican Olympic athletes good luck in Greece. He covered everything.
Again it was like it was all over, but then the great baron returned, full of wisdom, focused on humanity and its limitations. "Nature cannot be corrected; the tree that's born crooked, can never be straighten." This isn't fatalism, but common sense. The audience danced together and the Zocalo was a large Tíbiri, a macro-plaza in Monterrey, an Oceanía Sports Center, a Neza for the Sonideros.
Willie left. He returned. What would come next? He had already played them all. One was left: La Murga de Panamá (The Panamanian Carnaval Song), a long composition, with give-and-take in the melody. Many left. As they drove away down 5 de Mayo, Tacuba, 20 de Noviembre, and other streets that flowed from the Zocalo, they could hear the last cords of La murga..., echoing thru the streets until it was scarcely discernible.