Last night, I got invited by a journalist to an SBS radio live recording of a Ricky Martin concert …¿Esta vivo? Bueno, la verdad es que nunca he visto su bom bom en concierto, so I go. I love Roseland anyway, it reminds me of shows like The Orb and US3 in the early 90’s when people used to dress all funky and really dance. ¿Que pasó con eso? Now it’s all about table service and watching out for those killer stiletto heels. We need people to stop walking around so much and to dance more!
¿Qué te puedo decir about the concert? If Ricky can still move like that everybody should be watching. It’s how most people think they are dancing to drums after five Cuba Libres on the malecón or at the beach and they’re about to run off under a palm tree with a girl, trying to hide an erection. Ricky’s moves are the horny mating call to the Gods, pero con elegancia. How does he do it? First of all, he is one fine specimen of a homo sapien, secondly, he is from Puerto Rico, where they have taken the hip shaking thing to the level of art. (Remember Iris Chacón? Too bad Almodovar was still in Spain making films about drug addicted nuns back then.) All I can say is no wonder he is a star. Que cárisma. I love you Ricky. (And I don’t care if people think you’re gay, I know you’re not! I just know it. Y punto.)
After Ricky, I went to see Bacilos at BB Kings. Are all the young bankers up here from Miami for a convention or something? Or maybe they’ve all finally made the decision to move to New York. But you know what they say “You can take the boys-and-girls out of Miami but you can’t take Miami out of the boys-and-girls.” Lot’s of Timberland loafers and really hot Colombian chicks looking for a boyfriend in New York who has a car. Who can blame them?
Oh and the band…How cute are they? But by then I was too drunk to push my way up the super crowded dance floor to see them.