August 22, 2008
― Had the
concert at
Madison Square
Garden on
Thursday night
been an Olympic
event, the medal
stand would have
looked something
like this: Marc
Anthony, Puerto
Rico, gold;
Alejandro
Fernández,
Mexico, silver;
Aventura,
Dominican
Republic,
bronze.
At
the
show,
fans
captured
a
moment.
Strictly
speaking, there
were no losers
at this superb,
ambitious show,
which united
several strains
of Latin music,
including salsa,
ranchera and
bachata.
But with
transfixing
vocals and
feline agility,
it was Mr.
Anthony, the
headliner, who
owned this
night. During
his masterly
hour set, he
never lost
control —
musical,
physical or
emotional. An
utterly mature
and comfortable
performer, he
was expressive
not only with
his voice,
holding muscular
notes for
improbably long
spells, but also
with every inch
of his body;
time and again
overhead screens
flashed images
of his hands,
which seemed to
be engaged in
their own
complex
conversation.
Mr. Anthony has
recorded hits in
English, but his
real legacy will
be as a salsa
singer, which he
made clear on a
formidable
version of the
Héctor Lavoe
classic “Mi
Gente.” On
several songs he
held the
microphone in
one hand, while
cradling one of
the many
bouquets of
flowers given to
him by fans in
the other.
“It’s great to
be home,” he
told the crowd —
born in New York
to Puerto Rican
parents, Mr.
Anthony now
lives on Long
Island with his
wife, Jennifer
Lopez — and,
with this
remarkable
performance, he
could be
forgiven for
basking a little
bit.
In fairness, the
ecstatic
response to Mr.
Anthony could
have had at
least a little
bit to do with
demographics.
According to a
study released
last year by the
Center for Latin
American,
Caribbean and
Latino Studies
at the City
University of
New York, as of
2006 Puerto
Ricans made up
approximately
33.8 percent of
New York’s
Hispanic
population;
Dominicans, 26.7
percent; and
Mexicans, the
fastest-growing
group, 11.6
percent.
Put another way,
Mr. Fernández,
the austere
Mexican pop
star, his black
hair melting
into silver,
began the night
at a
disadvantage.
The second to
perform, he
appeared to be
digging himself
another hole in
the first half
of his set,
which focused on
broad, cheesy
ballads, a style
he turned to
after an early
career recording
the traditional
ranchera music
played so well
by his father,
the pioneer
Vicente
Fernández.
But midset he
disappeared,
then returned,
having traded
his pinstriped
suit for the
traditional
traje de charro
of the mariachi
(with gold trim,
as opposed to
his band’s
silver). Newly
outfitted, Mr.
Fernández came
alive,
especially on “Matalas.”
Later, he
appeared onstage
during Mr.
Anthony’s set,
mariachi in tow,
for a duet on
one of his
father’s songs,
“Volver Volver.”
The two sang
with bruising
intensity, Mr.
Fernández’s rich
operatic throbs
more than
holding up
against Mr.
Anthony’s agile,
sharp rasp.
For the
Bronx-bred
bachata
sensualists of
Aventura, who
opened the show
and have sold
out the Garden
before on their
own, there was
absolutely no
shame in coming
in third, or
playing first.
If Mr. Anthony
was performing
flamboyant
improvised
dance, and Mr. Fernández was
staging grand
theater,
Aventura, with
the pressure
off, delivered
the equivalent
of a campfire
singalong,
casual and
intimate.
The group’s lead
singer, Anthony
Santos — better
known as Romeo —
is one of the
great frontmen
in any genre,
with sublime,
airy vocals and
completely
unforced
swagger.
Here he
sauntered across
the stage with
the confidence
of someone who
knew that
autopilot was
more then
enough,
especially, as
seen on hits
like “Enseñame a
Olvidar,” with
autopilot this
good. Before “Un
Beso,” Romeo
took a moment to
express, with
words and
gestures, his
appreciation for
curvy women, and
asked that one
be brought
onstage for him
to serenade.
He sang a bit of
the song. His
new co-star sang
along. And then,
before turning
to plant one on
her lips, he
faced the
audience and
said, with no
small amount of
regret, “I can’t
kiss you all.”