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“As long as people keep clapping, Chente keeps singing.” That adage sounds mythical to the ears of the little ones or those unfamiliar with the live performances of the one who, indeed, is nicknamed Chente … rather, Chente. No way! Surely it is only good rhetoric from a singer with all the tables, with such a prodigious voice that he is surely forgiven, indeed, he is thanked for saying goodbye to the stage after two hours of the show, he does not make people continue clapping.
It is the early morning of Saturday, April 19, 2008. The entire town of San Cristóbal, in the center of Ecatepec de Morelos, has been collapsed since mid-afternoon. There was no room for another car in the parking lots of the shopping centers, much less on the streets of this not a small town. “We had to leave the car practically to the Vía Morelos”, “we have been walking from Coacalco”, are two of the voices that still at this time of the morning are released from the rivers of people who, with michelada in hand, boots , booties and predisposed wakefulness, are swallowed by the jaws of the Esplanade of the 30-30.
This huge wasteland in the metropolitan area of Mexico City is an old acquaintance. Here the best grouperos and vernacular singers of their time have been presented, whichever you want: Los Tigres del Norte repeatedly, Ramón Ayala y sus Bravos del Norte, Bronco as Bronco and also as El Gigante de América, Banda El Recodo with Pancho Barraza at the microphone, those young men from Intocable, a certain Lupillo Rivera… but we needed this one, the one with the applause, let’s see if it’s true, the Chente who at least has already collapsed the avenues. Everything here is sold out, they call it. Yesterday morning the stubborn ones, like greyhounds, still chased the La Zeta or Ke Buena trucks for some tickets.
They are at least five blocks away from the esplanade of Avenida 30-30. From here you can already see the dust raised by the bailongo that Julio Preciado, Jesús Ledezma “El Coyote” and Pequeños Musical open tonight, to finally give way to the Charro de Huentitán, the man in his sixties who is unveiling tonight with us as we have stayed awake with him hidden in the cassette.
Chente is heard there, prodigious. He just won quadruple platinum for the high sales of his 79th album, Forever.
It’s one in the morning. And Vicente Fernández returns two, three, four times, with the clearest sound that has ever been heard from the 30-30 Esplanade, because the audience does not stop clapping until after six in the morning, because only the blue from heaven scares the singer and his tertualianos.
ricardo.quiroga@eleconomista.mx
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