Jose Feliciano has a peculiar cultural conflict. On one hand, his big 1968 hit, “Light My Fire,” was a certifiable American crossover smash. It Latinized a rock classic and allowed Feliciano to show off some serious chops. “Light My Fire”–however unique a moment in Feliciano’s career–was no novelty hit.
On the other hand, while trying to replicate that early success on the U.S. charts, Feliciano has had to rely on Latino audiences for his bread and butter during the last 30 years. You can tell he appreciates the support; you can see that he relishes the recognition of his many, many Spanish-language hits as the first chords fly out.
But you can also tell he would have liked another career, a more mainstream one, one that rocked more, one that was, perhaps, a little less “ethnic.”
This was all in evidence Saturday night, as he and his band played to a wildly enthusiastic crowd at the Congress Theater. It was, if one were to judge by the Spanish spoken in the audience and the responses to songs in Spanish, an overwhelmingly Latino crowd. And probably a majority Puerto Rican audience, if the roar that followed Feliciano’s every mention of his being Puerto Rican is any measure.
Feliciano did well in feeding their hunger for the home stuff. He played plenty of boleros. His arrangements all had a little dash of Latin percussion, a little conga and maraca spiced on top. He switched back and forth between English and Spanish, not quite translating but making it all work in context. He played guitar, both acoustic and electric, with the kind of flourishes and intricacies more associated with classical or flamenco music, showing off a virtuosity that still dazzles.
And though there were a couple of terrifically odd choices, such as a sizzling, hard-rocking version of Jimi Hendrix’s “Purple Haze,” he stuck mostly to his Spanish-language song book.
That, however, only served to underscore his conflict. Because while Feliciano is sustained by a Latino audience, his vocal style actually is much more soulfully American. Feliciano, with that grit in his throat, could more easily sing R&B than, say, salsa.
What he’s missing, even while knee-deep in his Spanish-language song book, is the vulnerability that the best of the Latino singers, especially the boleristas, bring to their work. Feliciano may be too emotional sometimes for American audiences, but he’s lacking the exquisite, knee-trembling yearning that singers such as Juan Gabriel, Armando Garzon or even Julio Iglesias know how to work.
Saturday night, Feliciano seemed happiest when he was not singing at all, when his fingers were dancing on the frets–the music dense and fast–and he was plucking and hitting the guitar.
At night’s end, he surprised with two gestures. The first was saving the band’s introduction for last, revealing that every single member was a non-Hispanic.
The second was much more dramatic and followed a full-house standing ovation. Without mention of the congressional vote last week that will allow Puerto Ricans to hold a referendum to decide their future, he introduced his final song by asking, “Do you love the U.S.A.? Even though the prejudices–it made you stronger, didn’t it?”
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And then he sang: “And I’m proud to be an American . . . / At least I know I’m free/ I have no doubt I love this land/ God bless the U.S.A.!”
People shot up out of their seats, clapping and screaming. But about half the house stayed down, in their seats, without moving or saying a word.