Trevi triumphant

“I know they told you terrible things about me,” Mexican singer Gloria Trevi confided to fans during her triumphant comeback concert Friday at the Gibson Amphitheatre at Universal CityWalk. “They told you I was a bad woman.”

“No!” the crowd thundered.

The audience then started a spontaneous chant, shouting its unanimous verdict on the sex scandal that has hounded Trevi, 37, since it broke in 1998, sending her into exile in Brazil and keeping her behind bars for almost five years.

“Ino-cen-te! Ino-cen-te! Ino-cen-te!” they clamored, as if to drown out lingering suspicions that continue to cloud the artist’s controversial career.

Trevi, who lost one baby in infancy, gave birth to another in prison and is now six months pregnant with her third, was overcome with emotion by the show of loyalty. She pushed her long brown hair off her radiant face and wept openly, a smile of gratitude flickering through tears of joy and relief.

She then sang “Con los Ojos Cerrados” (“With Eyes Closed”), one of her many songs about blind faith, devotion and the power of love in overcoming adversity.

Trevi’s commanding concert went beyond demonstrating to skeptics that she remains a riveting and moving performer. That much she proved even with a baby on the way (not to mention in the way), and without the smokescreen of past antics designed for shock value.

Trevi’s return after such a long absence also starkly exposes the current talent vacuum among female artists in mainstream Latin pop. It’s hard to think of another singer on the scene who connects with an audience in such an open, genuine, deeply emotional way, especially one who writes her own songs and delivers them with such conviction.

Critics who still dismiss her as dated or jaded are missing out on a powerful artist at her peak, still rebellious and defiant but wiser and more focused. Plus, Trevi is singing better than ever. Backed by a young, eight-piece band, her voice ranged dramatically from tender melodies to bluesy wails.

Trevi’s real-life story adds power and credibility to her songs of loss, desperation and holding on to hope. She has always maintained that she was falsely accused, betrayed by the girls she tried to help and blinded by love for her former manager, Sergio Andrade, who was recently found guilty in Mexico of kidnap, rape and abuse of minors. When Trevi was exonerated last year of her alleged complicity in his sadistic sex cult, her detractors expressed disappointment.

But supporters were ecstatic. Their joy in her victory fueled the extraordinary outpouring of affection manifested during Friday’s concert, her first in the L.A. area in more than 10 years. The entire audience stood during the full 2 1/2-hour show, some singing every lyric to every song.

A great many of those fans were in kindergarten in the early ‘90s when hits such as “Pelo Suelto” and “Zapatos Viejos” made Trevi a star. Still, she told them in Spanish that “we have a lot in common,” reinforcing the link by liberally using their street slang during her chats to introduce every song.

“All of us at one time or another have been in a prison,” she said at one point, absent-mindedly taking off her boots. “The prison of unrequited love. The prison of a dull job. The prison of an unhappy home.”

She then launched into one of her signature songs of youthful rebellion, “Hoy Me Ire de Casa” (“I’m Leaving Home Today”), in which she vows to run down the street barefoot, daring anybody to catch her.

Friday’s show was tame compared to the wild old days when Trevi disrobed male fans onstage or lunged into the crowd. The baby has grounded her, literally and figuratively. Being pregnant made her think twice about taking the risks that earned her the nickname La Atrevida, the Daring One. (It also forced her to postpone remaining dates of her Trevolution tour until the fall.)

Not that she failed to surprise. For her finale, and her fourth costume change, Trevi emerged wearing just a glittery black bra on top, exposing her bulging tummy and the tattoo near her navel. It didn’t seem like a gimmick. Just another way of letting fans see her as a whole woman, and feel close to her.

By then, the audience was delirious.

Near the end, she sang “En Medio de la Tempestad” (“In the Middle of the Storm”), the song of survival from her powerful new album, “Como Nace el Universo” (“How the Universe Is Born”). Evoking apocalyptic images, she vows in the song to stay steady and true, whatever may come.

“Those who don’t love me don’t really know me,” Trevi said before leaving. “But I don’t care. They’ll love me tomorrow. There’s always tomorrow.”