Mariachi Music to My Ears

I recently wrote this article for our company newsletter:

I’m already late on the way to my first Luis Miguel concert. In the Latino world, he’s bigger and more classic than Ricky Martin, believe it or not. As a non-Latino unfamiliar with his music, I’m not quite sure how I’ll react. Will I appreciate it at all?

I finally arrive and stop off at concessions to grab a beer, thinking I might need a slight buzz for this one. By the time I find my group, I see that I’ll have to sit at the end of the row…with the rest of the white people. I expect an ambush of cheesy Mariachi music or roses tossed in great red clouds. But instead, my ears are gently greeted with the sounds of jazzy, romantic strings and horns. I’m immediately enchanted and intrigued.

As I settle back into the seat, I check out the people around me. Here is a couple cuddling close as if they were in front of an evening fire. And over there is a raving group of Latinas, their hands grasping the air in total infatuation. Suddenly, Luis comes out from a costume change. Why this was no mere Mariachi singer. This was Frank Sinatra! He is an imposing figure for such a vast stage, at once raw and sophisticated. He stalks about like a lion, with such power and command. And with his arresting eyes and decisive movements he seems to be conducting the very crowd!

And then come the Mariachis. Only by this time I am overcome with emotion. I am lost to the music. I have surrendered. The rhythm no longer sounds cheesy to my ears. It is festive and infectious. But the lyrics are the real treasure: “Mexico!” resounding in every chorus. I try to recall any songs in modern music that give America such praise, and I come up empty-eared.

As the concert is nearing its end, the crowd cries out desperately, “Otra! Otra!” And all this white boy can think is, “Si! Más, más!”