POP MUSIC REVIEW : Mexican Songs Set Fire Under Linda Ronstadt

When she sings rock ‘n’ roll, Linda Ronstadt can be like a bull in a china shop, her big voice charging headlong over phrases instead of taking the deft sidesteps that let a song swing. But venturing into the traditional Mexican folk music that she was brought up with in Arizona, the 41-year-old Ronstadt finds herself in a bullring tailored to her style.

The songs she sang at Irvine Meadows Amphitheatre on Sunday night convey simple feelings--deep lamentations, or broad jests--in settings that lend themselves to performance on a grand scale. In “Canciones de mi Padre (Songs of my Father),” her theatrically mounted, all-Spanish revue, Ronstadt’s singing was nothing if not grand. Her sustained high notes and surging vibrato drew ovation upon ovation, like so many oles lavished on a toreador who takes the bull’s passes with a special, acrobatic flair.

Still, the first part of Ronstadt’s two-act show was frequently awkward and low on impact. The all-acoustic music of the 13-piece Mariachi Vargas de Tecalitlan sounded small and underamplified, and it seemed a mistake to have put “Canciones” in a large amphitheater rather than in a smaller setting (this was just the sort of prestigious popular music program that the Orange County Performing Arts Center should be pitching hard to present).

Much of the 40-minute opening segment was devoted to a silly scene in which Ronstadt, clad in peasant dress and bandoleers, stood atop the cattle catcher of a life-size steam locomotive prop and serenaded a gathering of dancers posing as Mexican revolutionaries fighting under Pancho Villa. The festive “fighters” repeatedly punctuated verses by firing rifles and pistols in the air, discharging enough ammunition to rearm a platoon of Contras.

The segment’s most engaging moment was the result of a flub. As Ronstadt began to sing a plaintive song, “El Adios del Soldado (The Soldier’s Farewell),” an overabundance of theatrical smoke wafted over the stage, obscuring everything. Ronstadt doubled over with laughter, tried to regain her composure, then cracked up again. But the mariachis strummed on, and Ronstadt followed their lead with some of her finest, most intimate singing. The segment’s finale, “El Sol Que Tu Eres (The Sun That You Are),” offered sweet, unadorned harmonizing between Ronstadt and her chief vocal partner, Danny Valdez, promising better things for the second half.

Ronstadt and her 20 singers, players and dancers delivered in full with a 55-minute second act, a beautifully mounted, vibrantly performed cavalcade of folk culture. The opening overture by the Mariachi Vargas had the lively, dynamic sweep of a concerto allegro. It dispelled the notion that “Canciones” couldn’t work in a large venue; the feeling that the music was being engulfed in the amphitheater’s expanse vanished for good. The succession of songs (including the folk version of “La Bamba”), instrumentals, dances and costuming that followed was flawless, except for a couple of microphone feedback problems.

Ronstadt was at her best in a sequence of sad, lovely ballads. One of them, “Dos Arbolitos (Two Little Trees),” was accompanied by a gracefully erotic dance duet that evoked the lyric’s twining trees, symbolic of a steadfast and enduring love. Next, a boat floated across a sea of (properly deployed) stage smoke as Ronstadt sang a heartbreakingly gorgeous song of parting.

Ronstadt switched to playful innocence for “La Calandria (The Lark),” mirthfully rolling her dark eyes--big as a couple of prize marbles--when some bawdy verses came up. The show ended with songs of fondness and longing for Mexico that provided an emotional moment for many of the Latinos who made up a substantial part of the audience.

The only serious flaw in the show was Ronstadt’s decision to exclude all English from the program. The performance of “Canciones” needed no translation to be enjoyable, but by not interspersing the show with judiciously placed song introductions Ronstadt missed a chance to educate her audience and to draw them further into the cultural world she was exploring. Only those willing to shell out $8 for a souvenir program got the needed background on the music’s history and the songs’ meanings.

It is a pity Ronstadt didn’t follow the lead of Paul Simon in his Graceland Tour and serve as the host for her evening of cultural exploration, as well as its central performer. One also has to wonder why Ronstadt couldn’t have sacrificed some profits, printed up a basic, informational concert program and distributed it free.