Pedro Infante, for those of you who are not Mexican, was an actor/singer who was married numerous times, slept with half the country, and had a pack of children. Still, if Mexico had royalty, he would be king. Clearly it was only a matter of time for a clever Memo Rios to conjure techno gold, and thus "Pedro Infante is dead" became the soundtrack of 1992. Kids who didn't even know who Pedro was were singing and dancing to the amazingly awful techno madness. I for one felt accomplished because I actually knew who the song was about. My Grandmama was obsessed with him and every Sunday was Infante day, so we were all beaten over the head with Infante movies in black and white. During commercial breaks she would have shots of tequila and would let us kids have sips of beer. Intoxicating.
Even though I've lived in the US for over half of my life my Father would not let me forget where I came from, and as a very thoughtful gift he gave me an Infante DVD not that long ago. Yes, I have watched it, numerous times in fact. You know you shouldn't and you know its wrong, but sometimes we all fall victim to a guilty pleasure.
Two short years after the wild success of Memo Rios's song, a very hopeful and promessing candidate for Mexican presidency came along; Colosio. Colosio was determined to change the rules. He would run around the barrios and mingle with the homeless, shake the hands of lepers and still come out without a scratch. Having golden boy status, Colosio was taking the country by storm and me being Joel had to stay abreast of the trends. I learned how to spell his name, and learned his catchy phrases. I could have been his assistant. My family was sick of my political shit. I was 11 and wanted to run away and join the Colosio revolution. Nobody gave a fuck except for my sister. I had a way of always making her believe in my madness and I figured 2 crazies was better than 1.
My dreams of political insanity came to an end in March of 1994 when Colosio was shot. The only way I can explain it is to compare it to the Kennedy assassination. The Mexiland was devastated. I think my sister cried but only because I told her to. Oh well, we were over it by the week end. However, like any good Mexican I wanted to capitalized on the tragedy and in doing so, catapulting my singing career. I ran to my room and shuffled through all my cassette tapes; there! no! shit! that one! found it! Memo Rios!
Like Memo Rios before me I took something borrowed and freshen it up. "Colosio murio!" (Colosio is dead). I took the beat and changed the lyrics. My sister decided that we would be more successful as a duet, because one delusional Cortes is not enough. She did choreography and back vocals. We debuted our act after dinner on a Saturday and the reviews were very mixed. Grandma loved it! my cousin laughed yet she didn't know who Colosio was and grandpa clapped. My aunt's husband; uncle George however did not think it was going to be a success. Having been a lawyer in Colosio's campaign I sort of see his point (now).
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