Signs of Political and Artistic Emergence

Los Tigres del Norte, the world’s premier norteno band, made an entrance worthy of rock stars on Saturday at the Los Angeles Sports Arena. One by one, the five Mexican musicians magically appeared through the floor of a raised and terraced stage lined with bright lights, apparently lifted by invisible elevators.

Such flashy effects may be common in today’s pop scene. But it had a special, symbolic meaning for the many immigrants from Mexico and Central America in the audience of nearly 12,000.

It’s as if the band members, immigrants themselves who came to California illegally more than 30 years ago, had ascended from a dark, unseen underworld into the glorious light.

If it were up to the Tigres, now legal residents, a new generation of undocumented workers would follow them out of the shadows into the light of legal residence. Their concert, sponsored by labor and community groups, was part of a drive for a new immigration amnesty.

And if good behavior at long concerts counted as part of the INS test, these fans should have been handed green cards on the way out.

Thousands stood stoically for hours on the arena’s concrete floor, through three other acts and a few stiff, videotaped statements from foreign dignitaries.

Ironically, the taped greetings included one from Mexico’s president, Vicente Fox, the target of a biting Tigres critique, “Cronica de un Cambio” (A Chronicle of Change), for allegedly unfulfilled promises of reform.

Diplomatically, the song was not included in the band’s briskly paced set, which didn’t start until almost half past midnight. Their sturdiest fans were still standing during a generous encore two hours later, with some couples still dancing shuffle-footed polkas, cheek to cheek for La Causa to the very end.

Artistically, Los Tigres are a first-class act.

Dressed in elegantly tailored western suits, the four brothers (with a cousin on drums) constantly circle each other with stealthy steps in a catlike choreography, occasionally switching accordions, guitars and a sax. Their keenly harmonized vocals sounded especially powerful and pristine.

The headliners’ dignified demeanor contrasted sharply with preceding acts: the brassy Banda Machos, who hopped around haphazardly in outlandish cowboy-cum-space-cadet costumes, and curvaceous pop singer Ana Barbara, who made the evening’s most suggestive political pitch with a sassy hand on the hip, a pelvic thrust and a “long live Latin American power.”

In politics, as in pop music, you use every asset you’ve got.