For a special club appearance to help Ricky Martin usher in Sound Loaded , his second English-language album, New York City's Irving Plaza was as packed as the posterior of Ricky's trousers. If there's been any ebb in Martin's star-power in the year-and-a-half since his eponymous English-language debut, it certainly wasn't evident this particular evening. Martin is a master of the moment, as his single-song Grammy appearances attest. His five-song set at Irving, backed by a powerhouse ensemble (which included a seven-piece band, three-piece horn section and two backing vocalists) was that sketch on a broader canvas; something of an extended musical sugar rush. A handful of tele-performances (including the madhouse scene in Rockefeller Center, when Martin played The Today Show) in support of Ricky Martin , found Ricky's vocal chops a bit thin. It must have been road wear, because this night he was in fine voice. But of course, voice is only a small bite of the bon bon. With nary a ballad in sight, Martin seems acutely aware of his strengths as a performer. Marc Anthony will always own bragging rights on that particular format. And that contrast should hopefully put to rest comparisons between the two singers. Anthony is a fragile flower of a performer. His vulnerability makes him the heartthrob one most wants to coddle. Martin, on the other hand, is solid as a rock. He's the guy you want in a snapshot with you -- the one you show off to slackjawed friends. His chiseled features are so picture-perfect that photos of Martin can suck the personality out of him. Thus he shakes his bon bon. He swivels, he pivots, he shakes, he shimmies, he grins, he twitches and myriad other gestures and movements. And he's really fucking good at it. If the kids swoon for Anthony, they bleat like lambs at the slaughterhouse for Martin. It can be a bit much to take in: being a guy at a Martin show must be akin to the feeling Charlton Heston had among Dr. Zauis and his simian brethren. Stranger in a strange land indeed. But it's also a live scene that rivals most any in rock & roll history for the sheer visceral, visual excitement that Martin can stir. When Martin and his band hit a groove (which was often this particular night) there's a whole lotta shaking booty; more booty than Blackbeard's hull. It's due in part to Martin's band, who know how to brew a funky groove, but it's also the sight of Martin's bizarre fusion of ass-shake and pirouette while decked out in a black shirt/jacket with an upturned collar that hearkened another hip-swiveler in Jailhouse Rock. Oh yeah . . . the music. The new material fared quite well. "She Bangs" might not have caused the same pre-release tidal wave of Latin pop frenzy that "Livin' La Vida Loca" did two summers ago, but it's a worthy brass-n-guitar-driven successor, with a wicked stop-time that serves as something of a calm before another wave of the chorus storms into the mix. Likewise, "Loaded" and "Amor" serve up an irresistible slice of fat-ass bass lines, with wailing brass and roaring backing vox. And three songs in, Ricky decided to put the new album on hold for a moment and reach for yesterday's cup. Even three years after knocking 'em dead at the Grammy Awards, "Cup of Life" is still a live dynamo. The tune exudes a cultural exuberance that (hopefully) will keep it from being relegated to the scrap-heap of good-anthems-gone-bad via arena apathy, a la the Queen stadium duology ("We Will Rock You," "We Are the Champions") and "Rock & Roll, Part Two." With its waving arms and call and responses, it's a natural to be sucked into sport (it was, after all, initially a World Cup anthem), but it's worthy of protection. "Let's go back in time," Martin teased by way of introducing the set-closing "Maria" (from 1995's A Medio Vivir ), "but not 'Vida Loca.'" It was a bold choice, seeing as his audience was never placed below a simmer at any point during the evening; dropping "La Vida Loca" might have been dangerous. And for those who think that song defined Martin's brand of fiery Latin pop, "Maria" is a terrific reminder that he was a superstar long before he began to record en Ingles. After Martin's work was done, and after an extended instrumental outro, the crowd seemed sated, if not exhausted. It was a mere five songs, but relentless in its energy. We'll have to wait until next week to see if Ricky Martin's first week of sales (the yardstick for measuring success these days) matches the hysteria of his popularity surge last year. But his was an audience as thrilled by his work of today as it was of the songs from yesteryear. "La Vida Loca" is an albatross he can deal with at a later date. Martin's catalog has an energy to it that goes beyond the notion of hits; it's about riding his wave, and, for the time being, it doesn't seem that anyone (at least not in New York) is searching for a beach with bigger swells. And as the 900 or so in attendance left, there was no feeling that the absence of "La Vida Loca," was akin to getting salt-water up one's nose. And whether or not Martin becomes the Latin equivalent of Tommy Tutone is irrelevant. (He's already triumphed over flash-in-the-pandom after Menudo). Martin is more than a singer -- the sonic and visual components of the package need be considered together, as Martin is best seen as well as heard. "Sound loaded" really just touches on his cultural appeal.
That Ricky just won't slow down. An effervescent new album finds the hardest-working hip shaker in show business still giving it his all.
It's no fun being a one-hit wonder. Just ask Starland Vocal Band, Kajagoogoo or Ugly Kid Joe--if you can find them. That's why last year's Latin rock poster boy Ricky Martin is working extra hard to establish himself as more than just a bonbon-shaking phenomenon with his second English-language album, "Sound Loaded." It's no easy task, since Martin's 1999 release went seven-times platinum in the United States, sold 15 million copies worldwide and, as his record company Columbia boasts, "detonated the Latin rock explosion." But Martin is a master of career and persona changes. He started as a teen in the Puerto Rican boy band Menudo and went on to become a Latin soap opera star, a successful solo singer and a Broadway performer--and that's all before the Puerto Rican native tapped America's newfound need to cha-cha-cha. "I'm not the same Ricky that recorded 'Livin' la Vida Loca' two years ago," says the new Martin, who's going for a more relaxed look this time round. Stretched out on a couch in a Manhattan recording studio, the 28-year-old's hair is now longer and tousled rather than tidy and short, and he's wearing preweathered blue jeans and rugged cowboy boots rather than snug club wear. "I've changed because of the people that I've met and the lessons that I've learned. 'Sound Loaded' is where I'm emotionally at today."
Perhaps those emotions are too deep for the naked ear to hear. Most of Martin's new songs still feel as vapidly inviting as last year's "Shake Your Bon-Bon," and we have longtime Martin collaborators Robi Rosa and Desmond Child to thank for that (check out "Are You in It for Love?": "My sweet mamacita, you've gone to my head like too many margaritas"). They're still populated with femme fatales who "look like a flower but sting like a bee" and women who've "got one thing on their mind" ("She Bangs" is slated to be this year's "La Vida Loca"). But musically, "Sound Loaded" is different. It can samba one moment, shimmy to a Monkees-style pop chorus the next or writhe to exotic Middle Eastern melodies. It's likely the effect of Rosa, who's the daring side to Ricky's more middle-of-the-road tastes (though "Sound Loaded" still pays tribute to Ricky's penchant for pleading ballads). Overall, there is a decidedly more Latin flavor to this album, thanks to a big-band horn section, salsa-happy rhythms and tropical percussion.
"I definitely wanted to go back to my roots with this album," says Martin, who's drinking a cappuccino and smoking. The congenial singer's laid-back demeanor is at odds with his current wired state. He jumps from subject to subject and constantly readjusts his position on the sofa. "I used to work with a lot of Anglo influences because before I started listening to salsa, it was all about rock in my house: Boston, Journey, Cheap Trick and Led Zeppelin. But my mother got sick of the electric guitar and said 'Enough is enough! Do you know salsa or tropical? That's your sound. That's who you are'."
Rosa, also a former member of Menudo, talked Martin into experimenting with more Latin sounds on his fourth album, 1998's "Vuelve." It worked: Ricky loosened up, changing his image from soap-opera smooth to salsero saucy. America finally tripped upon Martin's sex appeal during a 1999 Grammy performance of the album's single "La Copa de la Vida," and unofficially elected him the year's favorite pinup boy before even hearing his U.S. debut. "I think my work is very sensual," says Martin through a constant smile--the kind that's usually accompanied by a Miss America crown and mechanical wave. "But if you look at my culture, we perform music that's completely sensual. Everybody is free--dancing, shaking their hips. So if I shake my bonbon, that's who I am. I'm an entertainer in front of the audience. Think whatever you want of me, do whatever you want with me."
Audiences have had their way with this pliable public figure from the beginning. At 7, Martin was already doing TV commercials in his native Puerto Rico, and he went on to join the people-pleasing Menudo at 12. He stayed with the group throughout high school. "A lot of people ask if I missed out on a normal childhood," says Martin, who moved to New York a year after he quit Menudo. From there, he landed a role in Broadway's "Les Miserables" and some recurrent appearances on "General Hospital." "But what's normal? Sure, there were times I would call my mother and say, 'I don't want to do this anymore'--I was 13, in the middle of a Brazilian jungle doing a concert--'I'm scared, I'm afraid. I need my brothers. I need a hug.' Still, I'd do it all over again if I had to."
Things haven't slowed down for Martin, who prefers not to concentrate on the rush of his current fame or, he says, his head will go "Bzzt, buzzt--you know, short out." Example: he made "Sound Loaded" while still touring for his previous album. Each night, he would fly to a studio in Miami to record, then fly off to the next tour date the following day. "I've been working nonstop since I was 12," says Martin with that ever-pleasant smile. "I'll have time to rest eventually. I know I'll find my Sabbath year somewhere along the way, and I'll do nothing for a while. But right now, I have the acceptance of the media. I have the acceptance of the audience. It would be unthinkable if I didn't do this now. This is what I'm here for. It's my mission." And a mission Martin always chooses to accept.
