el crispito

It was the first time we've ever been to the Teatro Degollado, and that alone was fantastic. It was first opened in 1866, and is in great shape having been well-maintained and regularly renovated. The entryway to the theater has a beautiful chandelier, and for these events, atendees are greeted by an stunning array of lovely young ladies in very formal evening gowns who have been selected as queens of the festival or representatives of the corporate sponsors. For example, Miss Zeta Gas was in attendance, handing out little pocket shoe polishers.

We took our seats and marveled for a while at the artwork on the ceiling and what was surely hundreds of dollars worth of flowers ringing the stage before the show started, but it didn't take long before the emcee took the stage and brought on the orchestra, which played one song solo before being joined by each mariachi group in turn. Those combinations played for about an hour and a half. There was an intermission, then León sang with Mariachi los Camperos. She sang nine songs, and then was presented with a plaque (by the aforementioned festival queens). She left and each mariachi group played solo for a while, then they all got together and played a couple of songs. It was kind of like what I would imagine a show called Monsters of Mariachi to be like.

The atmosphere was of Mexican high-class to the hilt. While some people came in relatively casual dress, many were decked out in incredibly sharp suits and gowns. Yet demonstrating the relationship Mexicans have with mariachi music and musicians, people would call out to the performers on stage with comments, despite the high tone of the event. Mariachi is an integral part of la vida mexicana, perhaps not obviously on a daily basis for some, but every Mexican has grown up with it. Even if one thinks it is corny or old-fashioned, he still inevitably knows all the words to certain songs. Most people know many mariachi standards by heart.

Such was the case with Amor eterno, a sweet slow number which stood out as my favorite part of the performance at the gala. It was the most popular hit by a Spanish singer named Rocío Dúrcal, often called "the most Mexican of Spaniards" by Mexicans because she recorded a lot of Mexican standards throughout her career. Earlier this year, Dúral finally lost a long battle with various forms of cancer, and while this year's festival is dedicated to women, it is especially dedicated in memory of her.

At the gala, during the part of the program where Mariachi de América played with the orchestra, one of their members came out from backstage into the audience and sang the song under a follow spot. Then, after the chorus, he pointed the microphone at the audience and stopped singing. The musicians played along but only the audience in the theater sang, until at last the singer came back in for a last go at the chorus before turning the singing back over to the crowd for the "la la" part that ends the song, which they all knew to fade out slowly, as is done in the popular Juan Gabriel version of the song. It was breathtaking.

I was so unhinged by it that I cried, and I wasn't even drunk. That would be perhaps my biggest criticism of the gala, which I can't make with much seriousness: you can't sit around drinking tequila while they play. Usually, in the events where you have mariachi, you also have considerable drinking going on. It seems odd without it. Joseph suggested that next year I take a hidden flask of something so I can sip on it throughout the show, but I think I'll just have to get it out of my system before the week of the festival next year by going out to places that have the two together. It will be like a warm up to the big event.