The GQ mariachi

Like the offspring of other famous fathers with names such as Dylan and Lennon, Mexican singer Alejandro Fernandez can’t escape the long shadow of his overpowering padre, Vicente Fernandez, the world’s greatest living mariachi singer. When the pair appeared together in concert at the Universal Amphitheatre three years ago, the son’s talents were dwarfed by the father’s towering charisma and extraordinary voice.

The younger Fernandez returned to the same stage Friday night, alone this time, the star of his own show. It was a chance for the handsome heartthrob, cursed with the nickname “El Potrillo” (The Young Buck), to re-assert his own identity and show that he stands on his own as an artist with 12 million albums sold in his 12-year career.

Yet junior continued to beg comparisons by doing a medley of his father’s hits, complete with a backdrop of childhood snapshots with papa. Enormous images on three video screens made his charismatic father loom even larger than he already does.

Of course, the delirious capacity audience loved the family connection and the walks down memory lane with favorite old songs. The segment, however, just proved that nobody lives up to a legend. Although their voices have somewhat similar tones and shadings, the younger Fernandez visibly strains at times while Dad never breaks a sweat.

Still, Alejandro has a velvety voice that is warm, engaging and getting stronger -- virtues best revealed when he doesn’t have to force it. His trembling, breathy delivery is tailor-made for the tunes that made him a star in his own right, 1995’s aching “Como Quien Pierde una Estrella” and 2001’s flamenco-tinged “Tantita Pena.” With those hits, he stopped using cows and horses on his CD covers and made mariachi music cool for a new generation of kids raised on rock.

On record as in Friday’s show, his trademark songs completely dispel comparisons because they make Alejandro what his father could never be -- Mexico’s urban cowboy, a cosmopolitan mariachi with a slicked-back, GQ hairstyle and a physique that suits those tight charro pants.

In the last few years, Alejandro has also gone pop, changing into tight leather pants for a few pop numbers tacked on to the end of Friday’s show. But as international crooner, he’s only routine.

In either style, he overdoes the modernism onstage with Presley-like pelvic thrusts and other sexually suggestive gestures. He also needlessly goads his fans into sing-alongs and, at one low point, leads them in a silly yelling competition between men and women.

Not that the cooperative capacity crowd seemed to mind. But such cheap tricks mask a lingering insecurity, despite the singer’s peacock strut and hammy demeanor. Alejandro should have learned from his father that a real star can occasionally drop the act and really connect with people by just being himself.